#but i don’t think i’m ever going to be able to read it all the way through again because it is teeth grinding

[bindeds]

𐔌  ✦₊  PRINCESS TREATMENT  𝜗𝜚 . WRIOTHESLEY  𑁤

⭑ — the duke shows you unending generosity when you visit your inmate father often and long past visiting hours due to your long shifts at work. Your father blows up at you again and wriothesley is more worried than he should be. As he walks you back to the surface, you find out why. 

wc. 8.5k cw.   nsfw 18+ , fem reader ,  hints of reader having a toxic family , reader’s father doesn’t trust wrio , reader probably has daddy issues , pent up wrio , soft wrio , fwb , wrio being courteous as hell , nicknames used: good girl, princess

៳ note.   I haven’t played genshin in years so I’m probably going to get something wrong despite my research (wasn’t sure if transport in fontaine was 24/7 and if submarines/boats are used often or easily accessible), apologies in advance. And also, I think this is a very specific flavor of wrio I have barely seen others write so I hope you enjoy anyhow. I actually have more headcanons abt this fic so if you want a part 2 lmk! :D oh shit I’ve been working on this for a week straight too and I didn’t proofread it so AGH sorry for many mistakes! (p.s. I take requests too!) here’s the ao3 link if you prefer to read on there <3

“Agh, forget it. You know what? Since you’re always coming back here, you ought to know one thing; that duke? He’s bad news.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line. Your grip on the phone against your ear tightened.

You frowned at your father from across the clear plastic between you both, refusing to look at him properly as you lowered your head. 

You sighed, shutting your eyes for a moment. “What’s wrong with the duke?”

“He’s corrupt, I’m telling you. He favors some prisoners over others. Everyone will tell you he’s just but he’s not!” Your father hissed, the microphone dulling the low noises he made. 

“Dad. Why are we even—” you sighed again, this time pressing your fingers on your temples, and part of you thinks maybe this was your subconscious shielding you from him since you refused to leave yourself. “First of all, I am always here way past visiting hours. Who do you think allows that?”

Your father grumbled something under his breath, probably a curse—but it was hard for you to care.

“Second of all, we’re always dodging the topic. Why don’t you ever want to talk about our fam—”

“I’ve told you a million times!”

You flinched away from the metal desk, your father practically baring his teeth at you with wild eyes that seemed to set his complexion on fire.

“Alright, that’s enough,” a guard from behind him chimed in, clutching your father firmly by the elbows and upper arms. He scowled at you before turning back to where the guard was leading him.

When your name was called you nearly jumped out of your seat, both your hands clutching the thick-wired telephone to your chest.

“Hey, you okay?” 

The Duke gave you a once over and returned to your eyes. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, looking into his eyes felt too revealing.

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied as you returned the phone to its hook and curtly stood up. 

“Don’t apologize.”

You gave him a puzzled look, but he wasn’t looking as he escorted you down the halls and towards the lifts. “No, I insist. I keep staying past the visiting hours despite knowing them well—”

“Yes, and, you work for over twelve hours nearly everyday. I don’t think I want you getting up at four in the morning just to be able to visit either.”

The duke clenched his jaw just then. Your hands grew clammy. Other than his legs, he barely moved at all. His muscles were ice and his veins were held in place with coats of steel. 

You remembered you had told him the reason for your late night visits early on, but his response stunned you to the point of being unable to get your thoughts right. He had thought about your situation much more than you thought he would. Though, come to think of it, the visits after you told him this, he’s always by the entrance of the visiting room just to give you a small nod of permittance. A nod you came to appreciate, and eventually miss when he stopped coming by. 

“Why did you stop by today?”

He looked at you this time, silent for a moment. The lift doors dinged open, and he gestured for you to enter before him. 

“Your father has been … irritable these past few days—”

“Oh, shit I am so sorry for him—”

“Hey, don’t apologize for your old man’s behavior. You’re the last person who should be apologizing.”

There it is again. That … look he has on you. The gaze he put on you weighed heavier than you could carry. Though, you couldn’t understand what about it made your knees melt. You nodded slowly. When you swallowed, your heartbeat reverberated in your ears. 

Even if he was tense, your demeanor would make things worse. You knew you were making a bigger deal out of this than you should have been; you hadn’t entirely dodged the topic of the duke of Meropide purely for family’s sake. The duke … was difficult. Though, not that he was causing you any sort of trouble. Evidently, it was quite the opposite.

“Anyway, I have my men observe him closely whenever you visit. Got the memo that he was already starting to blow a fuse a few minutes before he yelled at you.”

The lift arrived at the entrance floor and you exited rigidly, your mind unable to juggle basic motor control and the bewilderment of the situation.

He continued to walk you through to the exit of the fortress.

“Thank you, Your Grace. But I hate to have troubled you.”

“I’m the one who should be worried about troubling you,” he corrected. “Your father doesn’t come close to the worst convicts here. And yet, he’s one of the most difficult to manage. Prisoners who have committed the most heinous crimes are more amiable with me than your father has been, and he’s been here longer than some of said prisoners. Now, you visit him twice or even thrice a week, I don’t want him to cause trouble for you too. Especially with how often you visit? He should be—”

He clenched his jaw again, much more conscientiously this time, turning away for a second. 

“ … What?” You walked slightly in front of him as you tried to catch his expression. 

“No, that was … way out of line.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder—though, with how careful you were, it was really just your fingertips.

“Please, I want to hear it,” you said, almost in a mutter. “I know my dad is an asshole.”

The duke gave you a soft smile that seemed to muddle the edges of his pond blue irises. This was a gaze you were unfamiliar with, across all the kinds he’s given you, you knew, just from the shift in the air alone—this was somehow different.

“He’s lucky to have a daughter who visits him despite … well,” the duke chuffed ruefully. “Himself.”

You parted your lips to say something.

“But besides that—I got word he was talking about me again, and he gets worked up whenever I’m brought up so I rushed over. In any case, it’s late. Later than usual; I’m trying to see if I can get you home safe.”

With all the things he’d just said swimming in your mind, it was hard to think about rest or even getting home. It was a long travel, and having someone else worry—the Duke of Meropide, no less—was unbecoming.

He clenched his jaw again and for some reason, you hooked onto that to start. 

You held him back by the arm, stopping in the middle of a room. “Your Grace … listen, I just—I see that you’re tense and it’s embarrassing that I’ve made you worry about me to this degree. I can handle the commute home. Again, I’m sorry to be such a bother for the fortress and—”

“Please, you’re not … you’re not a bother.”

“Then … what am I?” 

“ … I’m sorry?”

“You had your guards update you on what goes on with my father when I visit. You’re always giving me extra time and now you’re helping me with transport. I mean, you even …”

He cocked a brow. Wriothesley’s shoe clicked loudly against the floor as he took a step closer.

“Go on.” He tilted his head ever so slightly, his hair falling over his face at an angle that seemed to accentuate his jaw. 

Shit.

This was all a mistake. Surely. 

But for some reason, mustering the words to apologize tied knots in your stomach.

“Maybe you were just being nice,” you murmured. He was so close now, and you had to crane your neck just to look at him, which didn’t last long at all. “I’m sorry Your Grace, I didn’t mean to—”

“No no, no need for that now,” he interjected in a tranquil tone. “I want to know what you mean.”

Your heart could crack your ribs open for how hard it shook against its bars. 

The Duke was difficult, absolutely—but not in the way he treated you. 

He was difficult because he seemed to display a certain kind of softness unexercised with anyone else. 

Something you now realized you clung onto for ammunition to your wild desires.

“No, I’m afraid I am the one who’s out of line this time, Your Grace. I was going to imply something completely absurd.”

“Are you put off by it?” 

You shook your head, almost like a knee jerk reaction.

“Definitely not. You’ve been nothing but kind towards me,” you insisted without hesitance.

“Okay. Then what’s on your mind?”

The silence of the fortress laid heavy on the floor, quickly rising up to your chest. The dust whispered of the gaps between your unspoken words. Both of you might have known just what hung in the air between you but without your explicit validation, external factors could easily be to blame for tension that spanned two or more months. You both were busy, working adults. And you both were mature, of course. Tension is and can realistically be caused by work stress. However …

With the way he had never once broken eye contact with you, always hanging by the cusp of your response, your approval … it gets to your skin.

“I could be imagining things …”

“You’re not,” Wriothesley chimed in. “I want to hear it.”

Your name left his lips like a breath of cold air in winter. Sentence after sentence, word after word—it was all but one start after the other. You tried to recall the last time he said your name, but you came up with one moment only; the day you first visited the fortress of Meropide.

“I can’t help but think you’ve taken a liking to me,” you confessed quickly. “Which, of course I am more than thankful for.”

“‘Taken a liking’ … that’s one way to phrase it,” the duke scratched the side of his neck with the opposite hand, angling his jaw away for better access. A small grin rose to his lips. “I would like to think I’d use more … direct vocabulary but I understand this is a delicate situation.”

You clutched onto the sides of your pants, wiping the sweat off your palms.

He noticed, however, his eyes following the movement of your hands then giving you a discerning look. 

His adam’s apple bobbed slowly before he spoke up. 

“If things were simple, I would have you tell me yourself what exactly it is that you want. But sadly, they’re not, and that’s mostly to do with me so I apologize,” Wriothesley began rigidly. “You were right about me being tense. But it’s not about … you.”

Silence drifted at the tail of his sentence as you waited for him to say more.

“Okay …”

“Well, actually … it is, but it’s not because of anything bad you’ve done. It’s …” 

When he struggled to choke up the words, he cleared his throat and tried again. 

“Can I be frank with you?” He asked with a lowered head. “The truth is rather indecent, but you deserve it regardless. Nothing has to change between us, you have my word.”

You nodded eagerly.

“Good.

 “You’ve been visiting very often within the last few months and every time I come down to see you I … don’t know how exactly to put this. I see moments when you’re trying to reason with your father who’s just—excuse my impertinence—beyond talking to, and the patience you have, the ability to be gentle in moments where he threatens you, to still care for him like that, it’s … it’s … too much for me. The reason I allowed you to stay here so late was because you’re the only outsider who came here and didn’t act like they owned the place. Besides the fact that you already know I allow you past visiting hours, this was another reason I stopped coming down to supervise. It was bad for me to think about you like that. I rarely come up to the surface as is, and even when I do, it’s usually still for matters regarding work. I know I don’t have any time for any relationships beyond friends and, well, I haven’t had much time to … let off steam either.”

Your heart was just about ready to splatter itself all over the walls of Meropide at this moment, rattling violently in your chest you could barely hold yourself up, even if you were only standing.

This was a fever dream, surely. 

You parted your lips again but he stopped you before you could speak.

“Please, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t want to involve someone I barely know with my petty inconveniences. And I don’t mean to imply that I only ever think of you crudely, I just—”

“Stop. Don’t say anything else.”

“No I must insist—”

You caught his lips chastely, tiptoeing as you pulled him in by his tie. 

His hands wrapped around your waist almost as quickly as you had taken him, slightly pushing against you to roughen the kiss.

You nearly chased his lips when he pulled away eventually. His eyes were lost in the haze of what had just happened but he blinked a few times and refocused himself on you.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, and the words left him lazily like they were dangling off of your kiss.

“Yes. I’m fucking tired—of life, of my dad, my family, my job, and I have thought about you a lot more than I’d like to admit. And I know we barely know each other, but fuck you’ve been so so fucking nice an-and you’re so fucking hot with your handcuffs, your tie, your vest, your everything. Oh, archons and the fucking—worrying about my commute home was my last straw. I can barely breathe around you. Please,” you confessed listlessly, your head spinning as you held him tighter. This caused him to tighten his grip around you, too.

Wriothesley grinned. “While I enjoy it, you don’t have to beg. Not for this.”

He drew the smallest circles on the small of your back, and there was something else he wanted to say. But judging from his averted gaze, it wasn’t easy. Though, to be fair—none of what was just exchanged was easy either. Your heartbeat still reverberated throughout your whole body, still wavering at the fact that you had literally just initiated a kiss with the Duke of Meropide.

“I need to warn you, I mean all of what I said. I can’t give you the relationship you deserve—any guy would be lucky to have you, but that comes with the responsibility of treating you right, and I can’t give you all of my undivided attention for where I am in life right now. But what I can do my best on is, well …” he cocked his head to the side. 

“Giving you the best fucking night of your life.”

That was all you needed to hear. 

“Where’s your office?”

“My office? Don’t you want to head home to …?”

“I need you so bad, Your Grace. I don’t know if I can wait until we get to my place.” You clung onto him like a lifeline, it was almost embarrassing—except, for every muscle flexed to have him closer, he reeled you in even more. 

Wriothesley huffed, giving you a small smile and that stupid gaze you couldn’t help but see every time you blink or close your eyes.

“You don’t know what you do to me when you say that.”

. . .

It took distraction, much distraction on the smallest of sounds, the faintest of smells just to keep your hands off of the duke as you both were back in the elevator, side by side. You would have laughed at the larger physical distance between you if you had seen this from third person, but the lift was charged with a silence that both of you felt was impenetrable and the sweat from your palms was being washed away by a cold breeze. 

It almost suffocated you to have waited this long—even if it had only been a minute or two. And you had already taken off your shoes by the time you arrived at the top of the stairs to his office. You thought you would tackle him then and there, but alas, the urge to be the civilized being you were taught to be reined just one point higher than your urge to take him all at once. After all, wouldn’t it be that much more enticing to see how exactly he wants to have you?

He caught you almost immediately by the lips, just as you had previously with him, this time his large hands almost cradling the back of your head as your hair fell between the gaps of his fingers. 

His other hand was busy taking your hips flush against his, and holy shit, there was a bulge larger than you anticipated pressing against you. You lost yourself in the warmth his kiss brought you anyway, fingertips feeling the smooth texture of his vest and the cold metal of his chain.

A tight grip on your waist caused you to yelp and suddenly, Wriothesley carried you by the ass and placed you down on the edge of his desk. His arms cornered you around him, and you continued to kiss him again—though this time, he lightly nipped at your bottom lip for permission which you gladly granted. 

Your arms floated then landed like petals on a pond upon his shoulders, hands like paper around his neck.

Much like him, his tongue was eager; while his hands crept up your shoulder blades only to begin its slow trek down, his tongue touched every surface you allowed in your mouth, brushing your tongue against his. 

Fuck, at this angle your legs were wide open and wrapped loosely around him while his tent pressed intimately against you. 

You hummed, trying to suppress the soft noise that burned from the depths of your lungs, fueled by months of illicit fantasies that dripped into your disposition towards him—and finally, it seems, his dam broke with the help of your nudging. 

It began to pulsate against him, but you didn’t think he could tell from how he seemed to need you tangled in his arms this instant, how each inhale he took was only luring him deeper into the promise he had made to you for tonight.

You angled your jaw away when he bit your neck and sucked and kissed the pillowy ache away. You whined as he had done so, lightly kicking the back of his leg with your heel.

“Oh, come now princess. Don’t tell me you’re impatient now when you’ve waited months for this,” he rasped against your neck, his hot breath sending chills down your arms. 

“I told you I need you. I need you so fucking bad, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley held you tightly in his arms as he grinded in one, slow stroke against the gap between your legs which made him groan, and you held back your own noise.

“Don’t tempt me, please don’t tempt me. I wanna treat you well, take you softly—but you’re making it impossible not to fuck you right now without restraint whatsoever,” he hissed between kisses down your jaw. 

“But …” you whimpered. You couldn’t muster the strength to finish your sentence as you had already melted in his firm arms long ago.

He’s right; he was undeniably pent up, hands arm chest and arms shaking and twitching every now and then with what seemed to be the urge to just have you as he mentioned. But even after all his kindness, all his patience—he still had more to give, unwilling to crumple you for his pleasure. 

“But?” 

He fiddled with the button of your pants with one hand, and just like that it was undone. 

The zipping sound cut through your thoughts and the breeze blew past your exposed skin. 

His eyes, heavy and brimming with intent concealed from you, locked with your own as he lowered himself painstakingly before you. His fingers barely brushed your skin when he peeled your clothes off your legs, sinking lower and lower. His actions hypnotized you on him, on the lines of his clothes, his curves—the way he looked up at you as the dim light of his office glistened by the edges of his shadows. 

All this time spent having to look up at him had caused this moment to flutter within both your lungs and mind. The many looks he’d given you, one after the other, each of different unnamable qualities that always left you unable to think of the decent thing to say. But this? 

He looked at you not only as if you were something to be worshiped; he gazed upon you as if he’d known you all his life, and now has rediscovered you, getting the opportunity to refine his memory of how the light traversed your features as he bathed in the grace of your eyes.

“You’re even more enchanting from down here.”

His wide-eyed stare seemed to have caught the tip of this tongue as he cleared his throat.

“You can call me Wriothesley,” he concluded with a rough exhale and a nod. “If you’d like.”

He sustained his gaze on you, waiting for a response. 

“Yes, I would like that very much,” you said. “Amongst calling you other things, too.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, and it was the kind of smile you could hear in someone’s tone; when they speak, you don’t have to look to know they have a smile that completes their tender expression. 

“Mhmm.”

“Like what?” He had you boxed in with his ropy arms rooted on either side of you. He blocked out the light from your view, bronze shadows rose like thin sheets on both of you. 

“Please me and maybe you’ll find out,” you chuckled and played with his tie between your fingers. 

He let out a weakened huff as he lowered his head. He looked up at you at that angle then shook his head. 

“To think I have learned of proper self restraint,” Wriothesley muttered. “This is self restraint. You test me in ways that have me failing before I even get to touch you.”

He pressed his middle finger between your clothed folds before you could quip back, causing you to gasp and cling onto him for support. He brought himself closer to you and snickered wryly. 

“Cute. Impressive, even. Now, what if I …”

His hand slipped into your underwear and his finger rubbed more intimately against your slit. It was almost completely submerged between your folds. 

You let out a hint of a moan, and with him hunched over you as you hugged him, you were right by his ear. Your mouth hung open but you still had control over the sounds rising in your throat, and you would let none of them pass over your tongue.

With his entire finger between your folds, his shoulder moved with each swipe that only grew vigorous by the second. 

“C’mon …” he said in a low voice. “You gotta give me something, princess. Now I know you like what I’m doing. You’re shaking so much I’m scared you’ll break.”

Something you haven’t even noticed—but it made you bunch his clothing in your fist. 

This time, he rubbed circles into that nub, his other fingers resting over your folds but pressing anxiously every now and then. You bit your lip, even squeaking once or twice at how he sparked your nerves alive between your legs.  

“No dice?” He asked again. He exhaled audibly through his nose. “Alright.”

He draped his arm around to the opposite shoulder, laying your back delicately on his desk. With your hair splayed out, a halo formed with the ring of light waxed around your head. 

His middle finger slipped into your cunt and you whimpered as a crease formed in your brow and you tightened around him—both your entrance and your arms.

“That’s it, atta girl,” he praised too sweetly for a rust-wrought voice. “Mm, you’re spilling for me. Why, I’m honored.”

“Sh-shut up,” you gritted out of embarrassment.

He littered kisses along your neck, deciding that lying like this with you was more warm than any stance with better access, because he kept his arm around you even when you assumed it to be cumbersome. 

“Do you really want me to?”

He curled his finger into that sopping, textured wall that made you cry out.

You shook your head.

“Use your words, princess.”

“Fuck—why-ngh!—why do you c-call me that?” You barely managed the sentence out.

“Let’s see,” he grunted, beginning to pump his finger in and out of you, the cold silver of his glove hitting you in time with the noises you made. “Staying far past Meropide’s visiting hours, monitoring your fathers’ behavior days before, during and after your visits which means all the time just to make sure he at least treats you with the bare minimum of respect any decent human being deserves, escorting you to and from the entrance every time you visit and supervising the visiting room but really only having my eyes on you—of course, I say this all to express my pleasure to serve you. Be reminded of just how gorgeous you are every time you walk down these halls.”

“Your Grace!” You squealed, feeling something coil in your stomach. 

He must’ve felt you squeeze around his finger because he chuckled.

“‘More’, you say? Gladly.”

His ring finger plunged into you, and it gave so easily with how much you gushed from your entrance. Your cry climbed higher in pitch as he curled both his fingers repeatedly, watching you squirm and squeeze beneath him. 

“You okay?” He asked, and he had asked the same way—if not a little breathier—than he had when he saw you in the visiting room that night. 

“Yes,” you exhaled. His face was only an inch or two away from yours. 

“Tell me if it hurts or if you want to stop, yeah?” 

You nodded.

“I’m just trying to warm you up to it. Believe me, I’d put it in right now if I knew it wouldn’t hurt you.”

You reached up to cup his cheeks. They’re softer than you imagined they’d ever be for the Duke of a renowned prison who barely goes outside.

“What are you … are you saying th—”

“Don’t worry about that now. I’ll take care of you.”

His pumping resumed in and out of you, his strokes spanning longer this time with his fingers almost completely exiting you this time around. You threw your head back, unable to bear looking him directly in the eye with how you were already being driven off a wet cliff to incoherence, and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

With how much he seeked a full view of your complexion without directly asking, there was no way he didn’t know he was rubbing against that spongey wall with every languid yet firm stroke into you. 

“Oh, we can’t forget this, can we?”

He pressed his thumb on your clit, keeping a steady pace that matched the fingers thrusting in and out of you. 

Your legs jolted in a shock of a new layer of pleasure, both your cunt and nub retracting to the stimulation his fingers treated you to.

Your muscles staggered, a growing ache making them give out and drop dead.

With his fingers still stretching you out overtime, he lifted your leg by the back of your knee.

Feeling him do that, his clothes running past your chilled skin, his grip a silent plea to have you wrapped around him accompanied by a softer kiss by your ear—your stomach coiled and flexed without much control and your cunt throbbed.

“Rest your legs on my back for me,” he grunted, his fingers stretching the boundaries of your walls faster as that silver hitting your entrance would start to bruise. You did as you were told, crying out all the same and in messy succession. He kissed your temple. “Good girl.”

His fingers juddered in and out of you making you shake to its command.

“Y-Your Grace—gonna—please—”

“Sh, sh sh—you’ve been so good for me. You deserve this and so much more,” Wriothesley praised airily. “Come on. Let go.”

He had nearly rearranged your insides from his fingers alone, and upon his command, you came all over him, pouring and pouring—even as he was slowing down, you kept coming.

He kissed you again without warning, this time his tongue making sloppy brushes against your own. He tilted his head to have more of you, your arms weak yet slithering around his shoulders.

His fingers left you, and even then it seemed your cunt was still trying to push your juices out. 

When he pulled away, he licked up what was left of you on his fingers and wiped away the access that stained his gloves.

“Shit, I’m sorry about your gloves.”

He peeled the tip of the black dressing wrapped around his wrist area. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll just clean them when—”

“Don’t take them off.”

You placed a hand over your mouth the instant those words left you, eyes widened and breath hitched. Even he had snapped in your direction.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

He cocked a brow at you as he reworked the dressing on his gloves. 

“As you wish, princess.”

Fucking hell, you think you just came again just from the petname alone.

As he had just begun to walk around to the other side of his desk, you sat up swiftly with pain writhing all over—mainly on your stomach and thighs. 

“Are you sore?” He reeled back towards you.

“A little. Not like I wasn’t going to be,” you jested. The duke snickered with you. 

“Naturally,” he smiled, and again you could hear it as he exhaled sharply. Smiles like that were always the ones that thrum against the strings in your chest. 

“Okay, so … how do you want to do this?” 

“Hm?”

Wriothesley strolled around to his chair and sat. 

“You could sit on my lap, but I’m not sure how comfortable you’d be,” he suggested. “Or you could sit there too, but that can’t be comfortable either.”

You got off from his desk and walked around it to join him. You turned around so that your back faced him and you sat snugly.

“Your lap is plenty comfortable,” you concluded with your hands on your knees and your thighs pressed together.

Wriothesley chuckled lowly, and your breath hitched when his hands slithered to your waist and kept sliding steadily.

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

By this time, he had pulled you closer, thick forearms wrapped around your torso as your boobs sat on top. He had buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathy kisses left in a meticulous trail.

The longer this whole thing went on, this little … agreement between you and wriothesley—the less this seemed to be letting off steam and a little more of making up for years of disregarded passion. 

But you were far from complaining. In fact if you could have it your way … oh, you’d send the duke running out the door.

“I want you,” he murmured into your skin as if you could hear through it. “I want to see your face when you sit on it.”

Speak of the devil. 

“Oh?” You muttered. Your fingers fell between the gaps of his own, and his knuckles poked your palms. “You want to see me come undone on your cock, hm?”

“Yes, yes absolutely,” he breathed heavily against you and your shoulders tensed at the chills crossing your spine. “I want—no, need to ease you into it.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

“Uh huh. I’ve never doubted that,” he replied instantly. “But you’re not the only one.”

You grinded against him just as he said that, your ass pressing into his bulge and his lower stomach as he hunched over and groaned.

He bit into your shoulder then, and you moaned again before chuckling.

“Stand up,” he commanded for what you recalled to be the first time that night, and after all his service, who were you to deny him?

His belt had come undone and his fingers worked the zippers of his pants. You moved them away to handle it yourself. 

You teased him, though, the zipping sound buzzing through the air as you took your time over each metal tooth in the zipper. He didn’t say a word of it, even if he gripped the armrests so hard you could hear the friction. When his zipper was all the way down he shifted so you could peel his underwear back. 

Oh, fuck.

You couldn’t even estimate the length because you hadn’t quite processed the girth.

You immediately rose to your feet at the sight.

He looked up at you expectantly. Goddamn, his eyes were crystals in this light. Indecisive ones that didn’t know what to think, yet held hope, adoration and possibly something more in the large pool of light it nurses.

“Your Grace, it’s …”

He reached out for you again, and for a second there was absolutely no way the hands that fell on your waist were the very same ones that have spilled the blood of others. Not when he held you like his touch would scorch you.

“You can take it. I’ll help you.” 

He held the hem of your shirt but your hand grappled his wrist. 

“Can I … leave it on?” You asked gingerly. “I’ll remove my bra. You can touch them underneath. I just …”

“Of course.”

He let go of your shirt. You both gave each other looks you couldn’t recognize before you reached behind tk unclasp your bra.

“May I?” He spoke up after a few seconds of you fumbling with it.

You froze. 

You could just be seeing things that weren’t there, but in this moment, his gaze was … wistful, yet sanguine. A white glow poured into his irises that surely wasn’t from his office’s bad lighting.

You gave him a warm smile and lowered your head. “Sure.”

You turned around, and he prompted you to sit on his knee as his fingertip climbed your back and your bra fell to the floor within the next three seconds.

When you stood up again, his fingers brushed your inner thigh and lingered as if he wanted to draw something there, stirring up chills on your leg before two of his fingers disappeared into you again. 

You cried out as your hands clutched the edges of his chair for support. His other hand squeezed firm on your hip. 

He thrusted a few times before going, “tell me if this hurts.”

And he slipped a third finger into you. 

“Your Grace!” You cried. “Fuck.”

“Does it hurt? Should I pull out?”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “Please.”

“Please what?”

If you went on any longer like this, your legs would give out and drool would cover your chin.

“I want you.”

“You have me.” His grip squeezed tighter on your hip as his eyes narrowed on you.

“No, you.”

He caught how your eyes shifted to his erection. 

He looked back at you and nodded. When he pulled his fingers out, you would have fallen on your knees had his hands not been there to support you.

You quickly cross one leg to his other side and luckily, his chair was spacious enough for your calves to rest on either side of his thighs. You on him with his erection on your stomach. 

Seeing its length against your body …

Both of you stared at it for a second, measurements filling your heads as your thoughts ran free about how exactly this was going to go. How noisy you’d be. How noisy he’d be. 

His silken tip was a pulsing red, blending into his pale skin color as a few veins branched up from the base

“You’re … fuck …” you whispered. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked as if you both weren’t looking at the same thing between you two.

“Yeah. It’s just—intimidating, is all.” Your playful tone fell flat with the heated air you both exhaled moments ago. “But fuck, I’ll never forgive myself if you don’t make a fucking mess of me.”

“Good, because I really don’t know how much more I can take,” he added fervently. His hands wandered over your hips and dipped into your waist, careful not to squeeze in any capacity. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

That was all the encouragement you needed as you shifted closer on your knees. He held you tightly on the hips which each move you made, one hand moving to align him to your entrance. 

“Don’t rush, okay? I’ll do my best not to move until you tell me to.”

You grinned. “Stop being so nice. It just makes me wanna swallow you whole.”

You lowered yourself on him and both of you moaned out, his sounding almost like a growl. The pain clawed at the walls as you were being pried in two.

“Fuck,” he cursed sharply. If he had longer nails, they would have maimed you by now. 

And that was just the tip.

“Think you can swallow me whole still?” He quipped with his hands still holding your hips up. 

“I’m tougher than you think,” you couldn’t help but remark as you sank deeper in—his entire body steeled and another strained groan escaped him. 

The pain took its place in the backseat in this moment, his delectable reactions causing the butterflies in your stomach to jolt awake. That was something you hadn’t felt in a while; it would steer you to a higher state of mind you couldn’t recall ever being in.

It only took a few more minutes before you had indeed swallowed him whole, his tip pressing against your cervix as you shifted to get comfortable.

His hands slithered around your waist once more only to tighten against him, your torso flush against his as his eyes wandered you. Even if you still had top on, it seemed as though he was getting lost in the folds of the fabric, frequently coming back to the swell of your breasts.

“Hey.” You placed a hand on one of his bulky arms tightly slung around you.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” You tilted your head. 

There was something in the way he was holding you, a warmth that rose like steam that caressed your skin—but you weren’t sure this was that kind of scene. You wanted to say it felt out of place but somehow you only felt yourself dripping wetter at the thought of it. 

He swallowed. “Yeah. I’m more than okay, I mean—fuck just—can’t believe my dick is in you right now. You feel so good. This feels good. I can’t even begin to explain how many times this very scene has played in my head in the most inconvenient times.”

He laughed softly, and you laughed with him. 

“How many times I dreamed of fucking you like this. Having you all to myself. Thinking I’d make sure I am the best you’ll ever have.”

He pressed his nose into your clothes as it reached your sternum, his face sitting comfortably between your breasts.

“You smell like … black tea.” His comment was muffled as his eyes were closed.

“Well yeah, that’s because you always give me some when the visiting rooms get busy or if it’s raining outside,” you replied with a lighter chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. How can something be so rough and soft at the same time?

What, exactly, you were referring to when that thought flitted right by you—you didn’t care to reaccess. 

“Wriothesley?”

“Hm?”

“Please fuck me,” you said, lace and pink bow ties intertwined in your words.

“You’re ready?”

“Mhmm.”

His arms unraveled from you, and it seemed like his grip had worked knots on its own; ages passed before his hands rejoined either side of your waist. He was reluctant to part from you, even in the slightest degree as he was no longer pressed into you. 

“Be good for me, yeah?”

And with that, he lifted you up and down on him with ease. He started out at a reasonable pace, though it was one faster than you expected. Your moans spun the room once more, each at their highest when his tip hits your cervix. Pain slipped out and away with each sodden thrust in you.

One hand covered your mouth and the other rested on his shoulder—and even as he rubbed hot, liquid pleasure into you, you caught the precise moment he realized what you’d done.

“Agh—please princess. Haven’t I earned this? What else will it take for me to hear your precious voice, hm?” He hummed, pleasured groans weaving through his strained words. 

“That—mm fuck!—damned nickname again,” you cursed under your breath, causing the duke to smile. 

He slowed his pace to a near stop. “What can I say?” 

Then he pounded so hard into you, the wet slap along with your scream echoing in the safe confines office.

“You make me want to pamper you.”

He clenched his jaw as he continued to fuck you at the same pace, though this time each thrust left a sting on your ass. 

You felt as though your nerves swam and writhed in each layer of flesh beneath your skin, pleasure following the way sound follows shortly after light. The butterflies panicked in your stomach, almost tickling you with the shrouded embarrassment of the duke of Meropide seeing you this way—how you could barely keep your lips together as your jaw lost its zeal a long time ago.

“Mmm c’mon,” he encouraged as your name left his lips again as an exhalation of sampled affection. “If I don’t get to hear you, I’m going to do something I’m not sure you’ll like.”

His thrusts picked up its pace slightly, as if to try and get the noises bubbling in throat to spill. You stayed resilient, however, even shaking your head as you offered a choked whimper instead.

“Alright then.”

His grip on your hand was gentle as he moved it to his shoulder, his fingers brushing your arm as he stopped moving altogether.

You whined irritably, and of course the duke laughed it off with that low and sadly attractive voice of his. Your gut dropped at the very sound of it.

“I told you I’d do something you wouldn’t like,” he reminded, and he sounded perfectly fine, as if he didn’t have his cock buried deep in you and twitching from the lack of friction. His hand was warm and soothing over your own, the other sliding up your waist. 

“Ride me.”

“What?”

“Please, ride me,” he repeated. 

You didn’t follow his request immediately as you knew what it would entail; your entire face, fucked out and reacting to every thrust you made down on him. You couldn’t muster a reply so instead you buried your face in his neck, pressing shallow kisses on his scars.

He laughed again. “Come now, princess. I asked nicely, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t the first time,” you pouted without meaning to.

It was almost like a knee-jerk reaction when his fingers ran through your hair, kissing your head as he cooed. It felt as though his fingers left a trail of butterflies where it combed, and the nectar of his kiss seeped straight to your mind. 

“I’m sorry. I know I didn’t. But I needed to see your face,” he said. His fingers still laid in the strands of your hair. “How shall I make up for it?”

“Beg.”

And so he nodded. 

“Please,” he stressed, your name placed on the throne of his saccharine plea. “Please, ride me. I need you so, so bad—I promise I won’t be mean again. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You heard him loud and clear the first time, but part of you needed to hear him say it again. A confirmation of what it would mean if he asked this of you—what exactly it is he wanted.

And so you lifted your hips off him slowly, and even in that little bit of movement pleasure ran down his every inch where your cunt hugged. He made soft noises, ones you would keep like small souvenirs in a jar as he shut his eyes for a moment.

Then you dropped down on him, moans shared between the both of you as yours reigned louder.

"I love hearing you moan, fuck," he cursed.

You repeated what you'd done, this time getting faster as the feeling of him filling you grew as addicting as it was pleasurable. Seeing him restrain his sounds and bite his lip was more than a reward for doing as he asked. You wanted him all the way in, even if it bruised your cervix—and his chivalry had only impassioned the carnal thoughts spinning in your mind, chained to the wall as you couldn't have done anything about it without seeming downright sick. 

That is, until now.

Oh, to think he'd been pent up before this, and now you're the only one who can bring him brain-hazing pleasure in this moment. Your fingers clawed at his clothes, legs cramping but the hot pleasure burned brighter in you than anything else. 

"I want to fuck you," he moaned. "I want to see you, hear you, make you feel good—please let me fuck you over the table—ngh—please.”

"How bad?" You panted as you refused to stop.

"What?" He perked up.

"How bad do you want me?"

He wasted no time in wrapping himself around you again, sweat on sweat as he laid you back on his desk, careful not to let your head fall. 

"I hope this answers your question," he whispered in your ear before he backed away to gaze at you again. He had naturally pulled out a little from the movement, but he didn't mind—he wrapped your lips in a heated kiss once more, his tongue a little more gentle this time as he pushes in and you gasped in his mouth. 

More wet slaps ensued as his thrusts grew needy. He drew out slowly only to jerk back in and nearly choke your body in bursts of pleasure, your nerves tingling again as those coils reformed in your gut. They were going to give out. It was approaching sloppily and even your mouth went limp when you tried to pull away. 

You tapped his jaw, and he pulled away instead, with the fog in his half-lidded eyes you could hardly say it was any easier for him than it was for you.

"I'm c-close.”

"Me too," he panted as he straightened his back, hands finding purchase back on your waist. “You’re so pretty like this.” 

Your tailbone had already begun to ache, remnants of your body ache plaguing the rest of you.

His finger wounded up back beneath your folds, and dancing with your clit as you screamed again. Shit, it was approaching before you could catch up to it. Your hands flew to his wrist out of instinct and your knuckles turned white in an instant, but your grip was wind to him.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you erupted, quickly falling off that cliff as you clenched around him and caused him to moan. 

“Fuck! I’m coming!”

He pounded quicker into you, your waist bruised in his grip as your ass stinged a bright red—he pulled out just in time for his cum to spill on the desk and floors. 

Your body went limp. Your clit still pulsed, and both you and the duke panted for a few moments. 

It took a while before the daze of the orgasm cleared, and some of your thoughts had come back coherent to you again.

The first one that took you by the throat was that you had just had sex with the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, the warden of a highly-regarded prison, a man known to be intimidating and a force you should never cross. 

“Hey, hey hey—you okay?” 

Wriothesley rushed to your side when you sat up and winced. His hold on your arm would have hurt if it wasn’t out of concern and the failed attempt to support you on time.

“Yeah, just cramping. I’ll be fine.” You dropped onto the floor, whipping around to find your pants. He didn’t let go of your forearm nor let his eyes leave your face—you didn’t fight it.

“I was thinking of offering to let you rest, but I realize you start work early tomorrow,” he said as he cleaned himself off, then fixed the belt and fasteners on his pants. “I’ll send you home.”

You turned back to him. “What?”

“I’ll see if I can get us private transport so it’s quicker.”

Your other hand fell over his arm. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

“I was the one who brought you back here, so I’ll get you back safely.”

“And if I invited you over?” You raised a brow at him.

He paused for a few seconds as shock reached his gaze. His eyes examined each of your own as if to wonder just how serious you were. 

“I’d go back to the Fortress on my own.” Wriothesley cleared his throat when he handed you your pants. 

“That’s hardly fair,” you scoffed as you rested your sore ass against his desk to put on your clothes. 

“I have never said this about ‘fair’ before, but I think I’m okay with that,” he grinned. You frowned.

“Wriothesley.”

He said your name back to you in a laugh.

“You don’t have to do … all this for me. You’re a very busy man.”

“Indeed, so I’d better hurry and make sure you get home safe and quick.” He tucked some of your hair behind your ear, and for a moment his eyes seemed to draw your features, the way light met your eyes or how your lips crumpled in a certain way when you were in thought or observing something intently.

Just like you had been now, with him. 

You gave up at his persistence, simply shaking your head and then gathering your things before leaving his office with him. 

The fact of the matter is that despite the coils that had broken loose in your gut just a while ago, your pores rippled with goosebumps at the brush of his fingertips down your shoulder when he followed so close behind you. He closed the door behind him and his touch had fled just as soon as it had arrived. 

“Did you mean what you said?” He started, “when you said you’d … invite me over.”

“Mmm, why do you ask?” You teased.

“Because if your word is true we’d stop when the Fortress of Meropide meets the surface.”

note. don’t ask me why I have a backstory for reader and more ideas for this fic oml. Idk why I am rotting sm over this. Tysm for reading!

taglist: @mun-in-rain @neverlandlostchild @mmmairon

[pedroscurls]

welcome to broadway (one-shot)

summary: it's the anniversary of oklahoma! and with it being your first broadway show, hugh takes you under his wing to show you the ropes. along the way, you realize that you've developed feelings for him. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 5.4k warnings: dry humping, suggestive smut (sorry - didn't go explicit in this one!), light dirty talk (this also isn't proofread, so apologies for any typos!!!) a/n: to the anon and @sir-thisisadndserver who both requested a story about broadway, i hope you both enjoyed this!!! (ugh, i wish i could watch the music man in good quality bc he just looks so good in it. but also, hugh in oklahoma! has done things to me... my god, his voice, the curls, just everything.) i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman! this is purely fictional.

THE TABLE READ

You can’t believe it. Lead role of Oklahoma for their anniversary showing. Twenty five years later and while mostly everyone came back except the role of Laurey, you were the only odd one out. You knew what this play entailed, knew exactly how it would end. You also knew that you’d be playing alongside Hugh Jackman, who was reprising his role as Curly. 

You’re excited, yet nervous. Hugh Jackman not only was an amazing movie and television actor, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t watch most (if not all) of his shows on Broadway. His sheer talent truly captivated, yet intimidated you. You don’t know how you will be able to act “normal” around him. He isn’t just talented, but he’s also incredibly attractive. Anyone with eyes would be able to see that. 

You’re the first one seated at the table and notice Hugh is set to sit next to you. You keep your eyes focused on the pages in front of you, trying to calm your nerves and get yourself ready to be in character. You can hear people come in, excitement and laughter filtering the room. You take a deep breath and stand up to introduce yourself. You’re taken aback by how welcoming everyone is and it puts you at ease, your nerves slowly beginning to die down. Everyone’s excitement is infectious, making you feel immensely thankful to be part of this cast. 

Your back is turned to the door, talking to one of the cast members that you don’t realize Hugh Jackman has finally arrived. He’s greeting everyone with a large grin and waves and you don’t notice. Not until you feel a soft touch in the middle of your back. Slowly, you turn around and look up, eyes slightly going wide as you stare up at him. 

He’s staring down at you with such a large smile that it literally makes you feel weak in the knees. Yeah, you don’t know how you’re going to get through this play without fawning over him, especially since your character – Laurey – tries to hide her feelings for Curly for the majority of the play. 

“Hello there,” he says softly, hand extending out for you to take. “I don’t think we’ve gotten the chance to meet yet. I’m Hugh.”

You bite your lower lip and extend your own hand, gently sliding it into his and shaking it slowly. “Hi,” you smile shyly and tell him your name. “It’s an honor to share the stage with you. I’ve been a huge fan.” 

Hugh chuckles, his hand soft and light with yours. He releases your hand and keeps his eyes solely focused on you. “I’m a huge fan as well,” he admits. “I’m glad you get to be my Laurey.” 

My Laurey. You feel your heart rate beat ten times faster, heat rising in your cheeks. “And you, my Curly.” 

He lets out a quiet chuckle, hands moving to his pockets. Hugh finds your energy and presence very calming and despite this being your first ever time on Broadway, he has to commend you for being professional. Though, he can see the excitement that flickers in your eyes. He knows that look, has even donned that same look every time he got on stage. “So, I hear this is your first time?” 

“On Broadway, yeah. Do I seem too nervous?” you laugh, biting your lower lip. “Because if I do, it’s because I am. I’m trying to keep it cool, but to be in a room with all of you? I just can’t believe it. I don’t want to mess up.” 

Hugh’s eyes softened. “Eh, we’re just a group of people who love to perform, including you. We’re all gonna make mistakes along the way, even on opening night, but as long as you’re having fun, that’s all that matters.”

You’ve heard stories of Hugh – how he puts people at ease, looks out for everyone in the cast and crew, and right now, you’re experiencing it firsthand. You suddenly feel your nerves disappear under his gaze and for once since finding out that you’d be playing the lead role of Laurey, you feel immense excitement. You’ve never been one to be shy on stage, but knowing that you’d be the new person in this cast instilled anxiety in you. They’ve done this before. They’ve played these same roles. And ultimately, you didn’t want to disappoint any of them.

“Thank you,” you finally reply. “I didn’t realize I needed to hear that.” 

“Well, if you never need more reassurance, I’m your man.” he winks. 

The theater director calls everyone’s attention, making a short speech at how it’s great to be back and how amazing of a show you were all going to have. You look around the room, seeing the smiles on everyone’s faces before you finally look up at Hugh. You’re surprised because he’s already looking down at you, giving you a reassuring nod as you feel his hand brush against yours. 

The subtle action grounds you, settles the nerves that begin to build in the pit of your stomach. You feel a sudden calmness wash over you as you take a deep breath, pulling your gaze away from him when you hear your name being called. 

“And we have our Laurey,” your theater director says, everyone clapping and cheering for you. “Welcome,” he says with a grin. “We’re lucky to have you.” 

You smile in his direction, nodding at everyone else in the room. “Glad to be part of this amazing cast,” you reply, everyone continuing to clap before it begins to slow down. 

“And our Curly,” the theater director continues, nodding towards the man standing next to you. “We’re all so excited that you’re here to reprise your role. It’s gonna be a great show.”

Once the theater director finishes his speech, everyone in the room takes their respective seats. Hugh pulls out your chair for you and you smile up at him, sitting down as he pushes it in for you. 

“Thank you,” you tell him.

“Anytime,” he winks. 

—

Throughout the table read, you finally feel at ease, comfortable in your element as you change your accent to reflect your character’s. Hugh changes his own and how lucky of you to get a front seat of his skill and talent. He turns to you, saying his lines at the beginning of the play. “On'y she talked so mean to me a while back, Aunt Eller, I'm a good mind not to take her.”

He’s staring at you with a charming smile, leaning back against his seat with his eyes staring into yours. 

You then say your line, rolling your eyes with your arms crossed over your chest. “Ain't said I was goin'!” 

Hugh then says his line almost immediately, “Ain't ast you!”

There’s a silence that engulfs the entire room as you two stare at each other. He’s still staring at you with a big grin and you with a frown on your face and eyes narrowed. You’re surprised at how much chemistry you already have with him, how easy it is to slip into the role of Laurey and exchange lines with him without any issue. 

As the table read continues, you can’t help but take notice of Hugh’s presence next to you. The scene where you kiss approaches and you know that it isn’t going to happen here, today, but to know that you will eventually have to kiss him makes you nervous, but also very excited. 

By the time the table read ends, a few hours have passed and everyone claps. The theater director dismisses all of you, saying that rehearsals will begin next week. You begin to pack your things before you feel Hugh gently reach a hand out to rest over your forearm. 

“You did great,” he says. “And to think you were nervous?” 

“I was,” you laugh quietly. “But I guess you helped ease my nerves.”

“I did, huh?” he smiles proudly. “Well, I suppose I should say you’re welcome.” 

You shake your head, standing up from the table and seeing him follow suit. “I was wondering–”

“Do you think we should–” 

You both say simultaneously, both letting out a quiet laugh. “You first,” you tell him, gazing up at him. 

Hugh smiles, bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck nervously. “Would you be okay with exchanging numbers? We can go over lines sometime when we’re not in rehearsal to get more practice in.”

You’re trying to contain your excitement, trying to remain calm and collected, so you give him a nod and then reach for your phone. “I was thinking the same thing. Here,” you hand him your phone and see him give you his. “Maybe we can meet up for coffee later this week?” 

Hugh smiles, typing in his number into your phone. “That’d be great. I know a perfect place.” 

You smile to yourself and type in your number before handing his phone back to him and taking your phone from him. “Perfect,” you respond, putting your phone back into your bag. “And if I get nervous at all–”

“Feel free to text me. Or call me.” Hugh finishes for you. “Like I said, I’m your man.” 

“Thanks, Curly,” you grin, changing your accent to reflect Laurey. “That’s mighty kind’a you.” 

Hugh chuckles, his eyes twinkling in the light as he smiles down at you. “Anythin’ for ya, Laurey.” 

—

REHEARSALS

The rehearsals have become more frequent as the date of opening night looms closer. You and Hugh have spent so much time together outside of rehearsals, either you coming by to his place or him coming to yours. Your relationship with him has blossomed in the span of a few months, feeling much more comfortable and confident around him. The more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself catching feelings for him. You wonder if it’s because of the nature of the role you’re playing, being the love interest of his and the fact that you both have rehearsed the kiss and dances multiple times. 

Though, you can’t help but notice the frequent texts and calls from him that have nothing to do with the play, or the way he lingers around you, some part of him always needing to touch you – on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, your hand. It all seems innocent enough, but with each touch, with each lingering gaze, you feel more and more attracted to the possibility that maybe the feelings are mutual.

Today, it’s only you and Hugh in rehearsals, practicing the dance in the dream sequence. You’ve both gone over the dance plenty of times today, both drenched in sweat. You take a short break, sitting down on the floor as your back rests against the wall. You take a long swig of water before Hugh takes a seat next to you, his side flush against yours. 

“Hey you,” he says, smiling in your direction. “You really know how to push me,” Hugh chuckles. “And I thought I was the hardest worker. You definitely make me look like I’m not doing enough,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes, gently nudging him with your shoulder. “Oh please, I’m only pushing you because you’re pushing me.” 

“What do you say?” Hugh asks. “One more rehearsal and we call it a night? Grab a bite to eat at my place?” 

“That sounds amazing,” you sigh in relief. “I’d have kept going if you hadn’t said anything.” 

Hugh chuckles, moving an arm around your shoulders as you lean into him. “You know, you can tell me to slow down. I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”

“I know,” you reply. “I just wanna prove to you and everyone else that I’m meant to be here.”

Hugh tilts his head. “You are meant to be here. You’ve got a lot of talent,” he says your name, eyes gazing into yours. “And this is just the beginning for you.” 

“Yeah, we’ll see after opening night,” you chuckle. 

“Not only are you talented,” Hugh says. “But you also love being on stage. Everyone can see it, can feel it. The audience will too. Now, get off your ass and let’s finish this dance.” He smiles, standing up and reaching out for you. 

You chuckle, taking his hands and standing up with his help. Your hands immediately dart out to rest on his shoulders, bodies flush against each other as your nose brushes against his. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For always reassuring me. I’m sure it’s exhausting.”

Hugh’s eyes never leave yours as one hand moves to rest on your lower back and the other takes your hand in his. “Not exhausting at all, baby,” he replies, his breath fanning over your lips. 

You clear your throat at the pet name, biting your lower lip as the music begins to play. You take a deep breath, trying to snap out of the trance that he put you in to focus on the dance sequence. Your gaze never leaves his as you both move across the dance floor. It was that specific moment where you were sure that he felt the same way. 

—

After rehearsals, you drive to Hugh’s place and see him step out of his car with a box of pizza. He leads you inside and walks into the kitchen, sitting at the table. You walk over to him and sit next to him, inhaling the aroma of food once he opens the box. 

“God, I feel like I can eat this whole thing,” you chuckle, taking a slice of pizza and lifting it to your lips. You’ve always felt comfortable around Hugh and you have to wonder if it’s because of him, how calm and grounded he makes you feel. You’re continuing to eat, eyes falling shut as you sway your body in the seat, just happy to be eating something. 

Hugh watches you with a loving gaze, eyes scanning your face as he stares at you. He certainly didn’t expect you to come into his life the way you did. It’s no secret that he gets along with everyone and has chemistry with every leading lady in his roles, but you… You’re a completely different story. He finds your passion to perform refreshing and your talent invigorating. Not only are you professional, but he appreciates your ability to put your all into each performance, even though it’s only rehearsal. It gets him excited to know that come opening night, everyone will know just how talented you are. 

He’s taken out of his thoughts when he sees you open your eyes, looking at him with a furrowed brow. 

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask.

Hugh smiles, eyes lowering to your lips as he sees pizza sauce at the corner of your lips. He also loves the fact that you’re not shy around him. He reaches up and wipes the pizza sauce from your lips with the pad of your thumb, staring into your eyes. “You’re a messy eater when you’re hungry.” 

The heat in your cheeks rises once again as you set the pizza slice down to grab a napkin, wiping your mouth. “You should have fed me during our break earlier.” 

Hugh chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Fair enough.” He doesn’t break the gaze, bringing the pad of his thumb to his lips and licking the pizza sauce from it. He sees your eyes dip down to his lips, hearing you quietly clear your throat as you bite your lower lip. 

“You’re cute, you know that?” Hugh blurts out, head tilting as he stares into your eyes. 

You roll your eyes and gently reach out to shove his shoulder. “Yeah right.”

Hugh chuckles, leaning forward in your space. “You are,” he whispers. “And there’s just something about you. I can’t put my finger on it…”

“Hmm…” you say quietly, eyes continuously darting to his lips. “Hugh…”

“Yeah, baby?” he says lowly. 

“Is this–” you whisper. “Is this appropriate?” 

Hugh then leans back, shrugging a shoulder. “Probably not,” he admits. “But I can’t be the only one who feels something between us…”

You look up at him, wanting to reach out for him, to pull him back closer, but you don’t. You’ve wanted him for months now, wanted this moment to happen for so long, but you couldn’t. You just didn’t know how things would change if you were both to cross that boundary… Even though you’ve both probably crossed so many lines already. 

“You aren’t,” you admit. “I want this just as badly as you, but–”

“Not yet,” he finishes for you. “After the play.”

You nod. “I just don’t know what’d happen if we do this while we’re still in production… I’ve waited for a few months, another few won’t hurt, right?”

Hugh bites his lower lip and shrugs. “Might hurt me,” he teases. “I mean, we’ve kissed already as Curly and Laurey. But I’d love to just kiss you as… As me.” 

“A kiss wouldn’t hurt,” you say quietly, slowly leaning into him. “But that’s all we can do.” 

Hugh nods and stands up from the chair to pull you up into him. The lights from the city reflect off his large windows as his hand rests on your lower back and the other on your cheek. Slowly, he leans in and brushes the tip of his nose against yours. 

“If we do this,” he whispers lowly. “There’s no going back.” 

“Fine with me,” you answer. “Now kiss me already.” 

Hugh grins and then presses his lips against yours, fingertips resting on the back of your neck. You’ve both kissed so many times already, but this time feels so much more different. Your lips move against his own, hands moving to grip his arms. Hugh walks you back into his window, feeling the glass press against your back as his hand moves from your lower back to your hip. Your lips part for him and he slides his tongue past your lips, hearing you whimper as a result. 

The kiss deepens as tongues get involved, lips moving with more urgency against one another. You’re about to bring your leg up to hook around his hip, but you stop yourself, moving your hands to his chest and slowly pulling him away. Breathless and panting. 

Hugh rests his forehead against yours, eyes remaining shut. “I’d say that was a great real first kiss,” he laughs quietly. 

“Waiting for a few more months might prove to be tough,” you admit, moving your hands into his hair and tangling your fingers into his locks. 

Hugh chuckles and pecks your lips softly, pulling back to look down at you. “Maybe we don’t go the full distance… yet.” 

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, biting your lower lip as you stare up at him with desire filled in your orbs. 

“Come on.” Hugh takes your hand and leads you to his couch, sitting down against it and pulling you down onto him. You straddle his hips, clearing your throat as you feel his manhood press against your core. You wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders as his hands rest on your hips, leaning his head up slightly to capture your lips once more. 

“This okay?” he mumbles against your lips.

“More than okay,” you answer, beginning to move your lips with his. Without hesitation, you roll your hips against his own. You’re wearing leggings and he’s wearing sweatpants and while the fabric isn’t as thick as jeans, it’s still too much clothing for you because you need to feel more. You need to feel all of him. 

Hugh groans against your lips, feeling his manhood begin to stir awake at the friction. His hands slowly move upwards, underneath your shirt as his fingertips dig into the flesh of your skin. He leans up to gently bite at your lower lip, your moan escaping your lips. 

You apply more pressure when your hips roll against his, his length hardening and straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. You feel a wetness pool between your legs, an anticipation settling into the pit of your stomach. You don’t know how you would wait another few months before fully feeling him inside of you since this sneak peek wasn’t helping. Instead, you’re yearning for more.

Hugh pulls away from the kiss only to place gentle kisses along your jawline, his hands continuing to move up your back, his fingertips brushing against your sports bra and back down to your lower back. The pressure in his pants tighten and he wants nothing more than to rip your leggings off your legs and slam into you, but he has to show some restraint.

You tilt your head slightly for him, exposing more of your neck as you feel his lips and his scruff brush against one of your many hot spots. You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Hugh,” you moan quietly. When you feel his teeth graze your skin, you have to pull back to look down at him. Your chest is heaving and you’re almost breathless. “Mmm, if we don’t stop,” you whisper. “I won’t be able to control what will happen next.” 

Hugh smirks, licking his lips slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Let me just…” Hugh gently sets you down next to him, readjusting himself in his sweatpants and the action doesn’t go unnoticed. You can see the obvious tent in his pants and his hand grasping himself to adjust his hardening length into a much more comfortable position. You can see the outline of his manhood, feeling your throat go dry at the sight. He’s long and thick and you have to peel your eyes away from him to avoid just settling yourself on your knees between his legs. 

Hugh watches you, eyes taking in your frame from top to bottom. It doesn’t help lessen the pressure in his pants because it only just makes him harder. “I’m actually going to…” he begins, pointing down to the center of his sweatpants. “I’m gonna take care of this. Will you be okay for a bit?” 

You clear your throat. The thought of being under the same roof as Hugh as he’s jerking himself off to the thought of you excites you. “Y— Yeah, I’ll be, um…” you bite your lower lip. “I’ll be here.” 

Hugh nods and then leans over to kiss your cheek, lips brushing against your ear. “If I had it my way, you’d be the one helping me take care of this.”

You shiver against his words and look up at him. “And if I had it my way, I’d drop to my knees in front of you to take care of it.”

Hugh growls, the sight of you on your knees now fully ingrained in his mind. “Great,” he chuckles. “I’m gonna keep that in mind while I…” he points towards his lower half. “While I handle this.” Hugh then stands up from the couch and excuses himself to go to the bathroom, allowing you to lie down on the couch and letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“It’s gonna be a long few months,” you mutter to yourself.

—

OPENING NIGHT

You feel the nerves begin to build as you’re all getting ready to perform for opening night. You and the rest of the cast and crew are all ready to perform, but you… You’re anxious. You’re nervous. You’re afraid that you’re going to mess up, so when Hugh rests a hand on your lower back, you look up at him with a tense look on your face. 

“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” he whispers. “Just have fun.”

You nod, feeling his hand drop from your lower back and you reach for it, giving it a tight squeeze. “Okay,” you say. “Just have fun,” you repeat. 

“Exactly. Let’s have a great show, yeah?” Hugh reassures. “And after this,” he whispers, lowering enough so that his lips hover against your ear. “We can finally go back to my place and take the next step.” 

That makes you stand straighter. You had been so focused on making sure that your performance was perfect as opening night approaches that you and Hugh hadn’t had an intense, passion-filled night since the night you had your first kiss with him. 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as he pulls away with a wink. “You know just the right things to say,” you chuckle. 

Hugh grins. “I knew that’d get you excited.” 

You feel your nerves begin to settle as the curtain begins to rise, knowing that Hugh’s character begins the play with a song Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin’. 

Throughout the play, you feel at ease once you step on stage, easily slipping into character. The back and forth banter between your character and Hugh’s are filled with a hidden and unspoken passion that you have for each other. Despite the roles you’re both playing, you can feel the tension and excitement bubbling within you as the play continues. 

Just another hour and then you and Hugh can finally have the moment you both were waiting for. 

Your first time on Broadway proves to be more than what you expected and you love it. Being on stage, under the bright lights, with a cast and crew that has the same excitement and passion as you makes you aware of the fact that this is truly where you’re meant to be. You couldn’t believe that you had questioned yourself at the beginning of all of this. 

After the scene where Laurey fires Jud, you know what’s coming. The kiss with Curly, followed by the marriage proposal. Once your lips touch Hugh’s, it’s filled with so much passion and relief. Part of you has to wonder if it’s because the characters, Curly and Laurey, finally admitting the love they have for each other, or if it’s because the end of the play is nearing. 

And it isn’t until you pull away that you see a fleeting familiarity flicker in Hugh’s eyes, a grin lining his lips. Throughout the next scenes, you’re both side by side, basked in the joy of being newlyweds and you know there’s a scene where Hugh is shirtless with suspenders. You are both backstage, getting ready for the next scene as you see him flex his arms subconsciously. 

You’ve seen him shirtless before, but right now, there’s something about the sight that makes an immediate wetness pool between your legs. When Hugh looks over at you, he gives you a wink, knowing exactly that you were just checking him out. 

Throughout the rest of the play, as it nears the end, you can’t help the excitement that bubbles within you. It isn’t until the end of the play that Hugh’s touch becomes more urgent, like he’s just as ready to leave with you. Each person with a pivotal role is introduced at the end as they bow towards the audience. 

However, it isn’t until your name is called that the entire audience’s cheers become much louder. You walk towards the edge of the stage and bow, smiling and waving as they give you a standing ovation. You look back at your cast, back at Hugh, who all are clapping for you. 

It was a perfect night and you know it’s only beginning. 

—

You and Hugh join the rest of the cast for a celebratory after party, having changed into much more comfortable clothing. You’re both at other ends of the room, but while you’re each in a conversation with someone else, your gaze is locked on one another. 

It isn’t a secret that you’re attracted to each other, but tonight, it’s completely obvious. Hugh’s eyes move along your frame slowly and under his gaze – even from afar – it excites you. You look at the time, knowing that it’s already so late and you’re ready to leave. With Hugh. 

You make your rounds, saying goodbye to everyone until you reach Hugh. He excuses himself from the person he was speaking to and meets you halfway, eyes filled with anticipation. 

“I’m heading out,” you say softly. 

“Meet at my place?” Hugh asks.

You bite your lower lip and nod. “I’ll see you there.”

Hugh then reaches out for his phone and sends you a text. You pull out your phone and see a four digit number, furrowing a brow in confusion. “What’s this?”

“The code to get into my place,” Hugh confirms. “If you get there before me, feel free to let yourself in.”

You smile to yourself and then reach up to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “It was a great night, Curly.” 

Hugh’s arm tightens around your frame as he shuts his eyes, whispering into your ear. “And it’s only just starting, Laurey.” He pulls back and kisses your cheek, lingering for a moment before he pulls away completely. “I’ll see you in a bit, baby.” 

You leave the party and make your way to your car, anticipation simmering in your depths. You drive to Hugh’s house, knowing that you’d get there before him. So, when you enter the four digit code the gave you, you see the gates open and you drive into his driveway, the garage opening up for you. 

Just a few minutes after you park, Hugh pulls in behind you. You step out of your car and look over at him, seeing him turn off the headlights once he puts his car in park. He climbs out and strides over to you, arms wrapping around your waist immediately. Without allowing you to speak, he dips down and presses his lips against yours, moving them eagerly against yours. 

“Mmm,” you whimper, feeling his hand move to your backside as he gently squeezes it into his hand. 

“Let’s go inside,” he mumbles, pulling back to look down at you. “I’ve been waiting for months for this,” Hugh chuckles. 

You nod and take his hand, following him inside his home. You don’t get far because you lead him to his living room where you push him back onto his couch and you straddle his hips like the first night you shared your first real kiss with him. 

He doesn’t waste any time in removing your shirt though, growling at the sight of you completely exposed for him, having decided on not wearing a bra. Hugh feels drunk off of you, his mind swirling with the immense thoughts and ideas of what he wants to do to you tonight. He knows he won’t get a chance to do them all in one night, but he just isn’t sure what to do first. He wants to taste you, wants to be head first between your legs. But he also wants to feel your walls wrapped around him, milking him to his own release. 

But your moans… your moans pull him out of his thoughts and he’s suddenly very aware of the look on your face. The heat in your cheeks. Your parted lips. Your breaths coming in short pants. You want this just as bad as he does and it only excites him further. 

“You did amazing tonight, baby,” Hugh says softly, hands coming up to brush against you. 

You whimper, looking deeply into his eyes. “Thank you,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering as his thumbs brush against your peaks. “Hugh…” you moan quietly. 

“I know, baby. I know… Let me take care of you.” 

Throughout that night, you barely got any sleep, but when you did, you were completely spent. Hugh had helped you reach your climax more times than you can count and that had never happened before. He was so generous, so considerate, but it was only because he yearned for the sounds that escaped your lips. Loved to see you squirm against his touch, enjoyed the sight of your eyes fluttering when he finally entered you. 

Hugh knew he wanted more. Needed more. He felt like a possessed man once he finally got that first taste of you. You unleashed something almost animalistic in him – the desire to see you come undone. The first time it happened that night, Hugh was in absolute awe. The way you arched your back, lips apart, body squirming against his mattress and a loud moan escaping your lips… it made Hugh want more of that. Want more of you. 

And he was certainly going to get it, that he was sure of.

[trippinsorrows]

without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this. 

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child. 

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.” 

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel. 

Time flies when life is good. 

“Did you get Callie’s list?” 

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!” 

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at. 

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.” 

“I like baby Moana.” 

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.” 

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.” 

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement. 

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve. 

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned. 

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach. 

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

“—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this. 

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny. 

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you. 

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.” 

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?” 

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on. 

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point. 

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm. 

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room. 

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’. 

Talk about fucking alliteration. 

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children. 

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though. 

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face. 

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine. 

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding. 

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along. 

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud. 

She lived long enough. 

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

[sencrose]

— READING BETWEEN THE LINES

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

tags: dc, noncon, fingering, forced orgasm, pwp, use of pet names (sweetheart), suguru being condescending lol

wc: 1.4k

summary: Breaking up with Suguru doesn't go as well as you had hoped.

a/n: idk what possessed me ngl! writing warmup that got out of hand ig lol. dividers by @/adornedwithlight! ao3 link here.

This is always the worst part, the anticipation of the unknown. You dragged Suguru into a private corner of the monastery, stating that you needed to talk to him about something important. Part of you hopes he won’t notice that something is clouding your mind, but another part of you knows how perceptive he can be – of shifting eyes, a nervous shake of the leg. Anything he sees can be interpreted and used against you. It’s just too much for you, to constantly live under his judgment and surveillance.

Once inside the room, you ask Suguru to sit down in an armchair in the corner, because when he’s at a lower height you can convince yourself he’s not nearly as intimidating as he actually is. He almost looks normal when you look down at him. But then his amber eyes catch yours, and you feel like a deer in headlights.

Breath, hold, let it out slowly.

“I think we should see other people,” you say, nearly hushed.

Suguru takes a moment to pause, before looking up at you with a smile. It’s not the reaction you wanted.

“You think?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, “you wouldn’t do all of this to tell me you’re thinking of doing something.”

He’s right; you don’t like that. It only makes you uneasier, inhale shakily and exhale just as unstable.

“We should see other people,” you sigh, a knot tightening in your chest. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, opting to stare down at the ornate patterns on the carpet, anywhere but him.

“Where’s your spirit?” he asks, pouting and high-pitched, as if he’s talking down to a child, “you sound horribly unconvincing.”

You were foolish to ever think you would have an advantage against Suguru in a war of words. He’s always a few steps ahead of you, quick to retort any thought that takes days for you to mold and craft. Still, you do your best. This would be the last time anyways.

“W-we should see other people,” you repeat, attempting to sound resolute only for your voice to betray you, wavering like a tree branch in a windstorm.

“We both see plenty of people here,” he says, leaning back into the chair to sink into the fabric, his posture even more relaxed than before, “I don’t see why you dragged me in here to say this.”

For the first time, frustration overwhelms your nerves, swirls in your chest and manifests into something loud and impulsive.

“Suguru, I’m breaking up with you,” you blurt out. 

An uneasy silence permeates through the room, and you feel the need to smother it. Unfortunately, any semblance of a coherent thought, much less a sentence, eludes you.

“Tell me what you really want.” Suguru says, the first to break it. You start to think the silence was better.

“I am.”

“No, you aren’t. I know you aren’t,” he says so matter-of-factly you’re close to believing him, “say it again.” Suguru shifts in the seat until he’s leaning forward, hands intertwined and planted in his lap.

“N-No, you’re just messing with me,” you say, backing away from him.

“That should be my line,” he sighs, standing from his seat. He takes a step towards you and your heart trembles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just-”

“Nothing’s wrong but you want to break up?” he interrupts, crossing his arms as he glares at you.

“No, I mean-” you fumble your words, unsure how to mitigate the situation. Suguru takes another step towards you, and you take another one back.

“Mean what?” The corners of his lips upturn, and you both know he has you cornered.

You stand there, finally at a loss for words. Even if you were able to articulate your thoughts, you know that Suguru would twist them in his favor. 

“See? You don’t even know what you want,” he says, condescension dripping from his words before he softens his tone into something gentler. The way you would speak to a wounded animal. “But it’s okay, because I do.”

Suguru takes the opportunity to close the distance, taking your hand into his and pulling you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and you writhe under his touch, desperately pushing him away. But all you get is an arm latched around your waist, the sensation of your bodies pressed together in a suffocating heat. His lips finally part from yours, and you rush to turn your face away from his.

“Suguru, please stop,” you whimper.

“Why? You’ll just lie again,” he answers, his hand reaching for your chin to turn you towards him, “don’t you know how much that hurts me?” he asks, voice too sweet to be genuine.

You do your best to keep your eyes away from him, the only form of protest you can afford right now. He’s unphased by it, releasing his grip on your chin to lift the hem of your skirt and trace the undeniable wet spot on your underwear.

“And it seems like your body is more honest than your words,” he whispers dangerously low in your ear, as if it’s a dirty secret he had the privilege of uncovering. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction but you don’t have much of a choice. 

He pulls your underwear down, lets it fall unceremoniously onto the floor. Before long, his fingers find your clit and you wince at the contact. You bite down on your lips when he starts drawing lazy circles, not wanting to give him any more ammunition to use against you. 

“You don’t actually want to leave, do you?” he whispers sweetly, and it makes your breath catch for all the wrong reasons. His fingers slowly but surely pick up the pace, and it gets harder to choke back your moans. You attempt to maneuver yourself away from his touch, but that only makes him press himself harder against you, tightening his grip against your waist. 

“You’re just misbehaving because I haven’t given you enough attention, right? Then I’ll give you all the attention you want.”

“Suguru, please, I don’t want this,” you cry, and it’s nowhere close to convincing, too high-pitched and whiny.

“We’ve got to work on your communication skills, sweetheart. They’re a hallmark of a good relationship, you know. And I only want the best with you,” he coos, almost songlike. His fingers build up to a steady pace and you feel your muscles involuntarily tighten, prepare yourself for the climax to come. 

“We can even try it now. Tell me, how does this feel?” He slips a finger in and you writhe under his grip.

“Suguru, stop!” you squeal, tears forming in your eyes, making the colors of the room blend and blur together. 

“Don’t think that’s the right answer,” he says in that patronizing tone again, and you can hear the pout in his voice. As punishment he slips in another finger, and within moments he’s bullying the spot that has you crying from pleasure like he’s done so many times before. Your fingers grip around his arm, nails digging into his skin and leaving crescent indents in his skin, but Suguru is nothing if not determined.

“I just don’t see why you’d want to leave when I do all of this for you.” The arm around your waist finally releases, only for his other hand to trace the curves of your body until it reaches your clit. He starts building the pressure again, slow circles to contrast against the rapid pace of his fingers.

Your breathing destabilizes as your muscles tense up again against your will. You know you’re getting close, which means Suguru knows as well. 

“Let it all out for me, sweetheart,” And you do, body shivering and walls clamping around his finger like a vice. The rush of heat and pleasure running through you is too much, and you fall back onto old habits, closing your eyes and moaning his name like a mantra as he guides you through your climax. Suguru only pulls himself out of you once your breathing stabilizes, when you finally come out of your postorgasmic daze and the tears start running down your cheeks.

He gently holds your face, rubbing the tears with his thumb before laying a soft kiss on your cheek.

“If this is what you wanted, you should’ve told me. Spare me the theatrics next time, okay?”

[heybrownieboy]

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: A MURDERER, A DEMON, AND AN ELEMENTAL?

POV: 2nd Person. Y/N.

— Word Count: 2K+

Author’s Note: Finally an update :). In all honesty, I’ve been struggling with getting back into writing lately— after not having time nor mental energy to in so long— but, I’ve also have felt awful going M.I.A for over two months. So, while I was working on this, I decided to break up what I do have and give you all this little update. I wanted to reassure you all that I am NOT giving up on this SMAU. At all. I will be continuing and finishing it. But for now, I hope you enjoy this. I apologize for it being short but, I promise the next chapter is much longer (once I’m able to actually put this one damn scene into words 😭).

“Do you honestly think this is a good idea?” 

You tore your eyes away from your TV—which was currently playing reruns of “Happiness”— and to the spirit siting on the couch next to you.

“What?” you asked. 

“Tonight,” Minho said. “Do you honestly think going to that shrine tonight is a good idea?” 

“Yes,” you said. 

“That caretaker is crazy, Y/N. Like completely batshit crazy."

“So I’ve heard,” you said.

“I mean it,” Minho said, exasperated. “I think he’s the one that actually killed Jisung and I.” 

Your eyes widened. “Wait what?” you asked. 

“I don’t remember a lot from that night,” he said. “Like at all. And I know you said spirits tend to forget more and more things the longer their earth bound.” 

You nodded at that. 

“But I remember some snippets of that night,” Minho said. “And I think he was there. I swear saw him for a spilt second. I was too shocked when I found…” He took a deep breath, an obvious expression of pain and grief crossing his face. “When I found Jisung’s body. So, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to my surroundings. I saw the caretaker run behind me from my peripheral vision. But, before I could react there was a rope wrapping around my throat.” 

“I thought you two were kidnapped?” you asked. 

“I think we were,” he said. “At least in a sense. Do you remember when Jeongin talked about that night he went to the mountain alone?” 

“He said he doesn’t remember the car ride there,” you said quietly. 

“Or half of his hike through the woods,” Minho finished. "Not until he heard Jisung. From what I remember, something similar happened to me.” 

“It was probably the demon controlling you,” you said. “They’re good at that. It’s like a semi-possession.” You rubbed your temples. “So I’m about to go spy on a murderer, a demon, and an elemental?”

“What do you think they’re doing up there?” Minho said.

“Honestly I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything. Everything for me with this whole thing has been guesses.” 

“Yet you’re still trying to help,” Minho said. 

“Of course I am,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because it’s dangerous and you could get hurt,” he said. “Or even die.” 

You shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve almost died.” 

“Yeah,” Minho said slowly. “What’s with that huh? How are you alive and have been to hell?” 

You winced. “It was a long time ago,” you said. “And in all honestly I don’t really like talking about it much.”

“I get that,” Minho said. “And I won’t push you to talk about something you don’t want to. Hell was the worst thing I ever experienced in my life. I mean, yeah I guess it’s Hell but, I never expected it to be like…”  He grimaced at the memories.

“Yep,” you agreed, completely understanding of what he meant. 

“I thought it was just going to be super hot.” Minho let out a humorless chuckle. “I wasn’t exactly religious before all this so, I guess I never really read up on it.”

“You could say Dante wasn’t too far off,” you said. “And I do think it’s a little different for everyone.” 

“Yeah. Sometimes Jisung and I would see different things.” 

You squinted at the spirit. “Have you seen any other spirits lately?” 

Minho tilted his head at you. “No actually,” he said. “Now that I think about it. The only one I’ve seen all week is Jisung. Why?” 

“Fucking hell,” you grumbled. You leaned against the back of your couch, head thrown back and eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m starting to think that’s what these rituals are for. Because in my twenty years of life, I’ve never gone a day without seeing a least four or five spirits. I’ve only seen three others— besides you and Jisung— in the last week. That’s it. And it been over a week since I’ve seen a demon.” 

“That’s not a good thing?” 

“God, I wish it was. But, no it’s not.” 

“Fuck,” Minho breathed. “So, what should we do? I knew this was complicated and dangerous but this? This seems next level.” 

“I don’t know…” You threw up your hands exasperated. “I feel like that’s all I’ve been saying lately. ‘I don’t know’. It’s so fucking frustrating.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Minho said softly. “You’re trying. You’re helping us even if you don’t have to. And so far you’ve done an amazing job okay?”

You have him a half hearted smile. “Thank you,” you said.

“Is there maybe any kind of research you can do on this?” he offered. “I mean, there has to be some answers out there somewhere right?” 

“Maybe,” you said. “I only have like an half an hour before Jay and Nico pick me up though. And kind of search isn’t something I have easy access too. Not to mention it’s the supernatural. Nothing is finite. There’s thousands of rituals out there. And thousands more that aren’t recorded.” You nibbled on the inside of your cheek nervously.

“You grew up in a family of Shaman right?” Minho asked. “Can’t you ask like an elder or something for help?” 

You scrunched your nose at that. “I don’t talk to most of them anymore,” you said. “But, I do have someone I could call. My aunt should be able give me some kind of advice.” 

You leaned over to grab your cell phone off the coffee table. It should be around five P.M in London right now. You scrolled to your aunt’s contact and hit call. It only took a few rings for the line to be picked up

“Y/N-ah.” 

The sound of your Aunt Bora’s gentle voice on the other side of the line immediately had you relaxing. The tension that had building up all day seemed to almost completely melt away. 

“Hi,” you said softly. “How are you?” 

“I’m doing great, honey,” your aunt said. “But what about you? It’s almost one A.M in Korea right now. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” 

“I wish I could,” you said. “But I’ve been stressed out lately and couldn’t sleep.” 

“Stressed out about school?” Bora asked. “Because you shouldn’t be. I know studying to get your nursing degree can be challenging but you’re extremely intelligent, Y/N. You’ll make an amazing nurse in the future.” 

You smiled at that. “Thank you,” you said. You let out a soft sigh. “But that’ not the reason I called you. I need advice. On the supernatural.” 

“Oh? What do you mean? What’s happening?” 

“Do you remember those two men that went missing last year?” you asked.

“Yes,” Bora said. “Lily-ah and Natty-ah knew them through friends, correct? What were their names again?” 

“Lee Minho and Han Jisung,” you said. You glanced at Minho for a second. He was the one now leaned back into the couch watching you contently. 

“Didn’t you try to help find them last year?” your aunt asked.

“I did,” you confirmed. “But I couldn’t. I didn’t find a trace of them physically or spiritually.” 

“I’ve always found that strange. It’s almost like…” 

“Someone might have been hiding them.” 

“Exactly,” Bora said. “Did you finally find them?” 

“Kind of,” you said. “It’s more like they found me. Well, technically Jeongin found me.”

“Jeongin?” 

“Their friend. Um, how do I even explain?” 

“Start from the beginning yeah?” Bora said, her voice gentle. “Tell me everything you know.” 

And so you did. You explained how Jeongin originally had come to you or “Eris” for advice because he thought his friend was haunting him. How that turned out to be correct and that Minho was in fact trying to get through to him. You explained how you saw Minho and then had the premonition about Jisung. You explained their spiritual debt and how they were tricked by those three. How they had to escape hell and how half of their soul was stolen from them.

“So,” Bora said slowly, “you’re trying to help them break their spiritual debt and move on?” 

“Yes,” you said, with a slight wavier to your voice.

“But?” 

“But that’s not all. One of the trio he made a contract with was human. A living human. Minho is pretty sure that he’s the one that murdered them.” 

“Y/N,” your aunt said lowly. “You can’t confront a murder.” 

“Oh, I’m not done though.” 

There was a few beats of silence before your aunt asked, “What do you mean?”

“In the past week or so, I’ve seen three spirits and no demons,” you said. “Only one of those spirits talked to me. And all it did was ask for the time.” 

“Asked for the time? Spirits never ask for the time. Unless…” 

“Unless they’re being summoned somewhere,” you said. “I think they’re all being summoned to that mount Minho and Jisung went missing on. By the human.” 

“You think he’s summoning them all there for something bigger,” Bora said. 

“Exactly,” you said. “He’s been preforming rituals for about two weeks. At least that we know of. “

“He’s most likely a Shaman. A very powerful one. Rituals like that? They aren’t easy. At all.” 

“I know,” you said.

“And I’m guessing there’s more,” Bora said with a soft sigh. 

“The other two being they made this contract with are supernatural. One is a demon. But the other one, neither Minho or Jisung knew what it was. They said it was different from the demon.” 

“Don’t tell me…” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s an elemental, yeah.” 

“Y/N,” your aunt said voice now taking on a firm, cold edge. “You need to stay away from elementals. They can and will kill you if you ever get in their way. Forget the murderous shaman. Elementals are not bound to the same rules as demons. Not to mention they hate humans more than demons ever have.” 

“I know,” you said. “I do but…” You took a deep breath. “I cannot not help. There’s something seriously wrong.” 

“It doesn’t matter. This is your lif—“ 

“They have wards to keep away angels,” you said cutting your aunt off. 

“What?” she asked, utter disbelief overtaking her tone.

“Minho said that the mountain is littered in wards keeping angels out,” you said. “Namely Azrael.” 

“That’s impossible.” 

“You would think. At first he thought it was just the hellhounds being kept out. They got too close to the mountain and they were repelled, But he said that Azrael has not been able to get onto the mountain at all either. That the barrier the wards created repelled him as well.” 

The other line went silent. After a few moments you began to worry that the call had disconnected. 

“Hel—“ 

“I don’t like this Y/N,” your aunt said quietly. “At all. I understand Azrael is probably the last angel you want to see since… since all of that happened. But he’s still an angel. He’s still a protector. If you go on that mountain, you have absolutely no protection. Not against the Shaman nor the elemental.”

“I realize that,” you said. “And I completely understand that. But like I said. There’s something seriously wrong happening. I think Minho and Jisung were apart of whatever plan they have going on. Not to mention they’ve been talking about Jeongin. Another human life they most likely want to take. They’ve been planning this for at least a year now, Aunt Bora. Whatever it is, it’s huge. God know how many people will eventually be dragged into this."

Your aunt let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I know there’s no way to talk you out of this.” Another sigh left her lips. “ Let me think for a few minutes. Maybe I can help.” 

You smiled. “Thank you,” you said. “So much.” 

Your aunt simply hummed. After a few minutes she began speaking again. “How were those to boys killed? Do you know? I might be able to narrow down what ritual they’re trying to get ready up for.” 

“They were strangled,” you said. You peered at Minho for a second, your eyes focusing on the wound around his neck.. “Well, honestly it looks like the rope cut into their throats. They both have these huge infected gashes.” 

“Infected?” Bora asked. 

You copied her hum from a few moments ago. “Yeah.”

“Y/N, if they were dead, how could their wounds be infected?” 

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Of Chaos And Spirits Masterlist

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©️heybrownieboy 2024

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Never Letting You Go (Jason Todd)

Summary: Jason's afraid he's going to lose you.

Warnings: Flangst, every jason x reader i post will be is ADULT!jason x reader

WC : 970ish

Read on ao3!

-

The night sky was clear for once, a rarity in Gotham. You sat on the fire escape outside your apartment, the cool metal beneath you a grounding sensation as you looked out over the city’s sprawling skyline. Despite the beauty of the moment, your thoughts were elsewhere.

Beside you sat Jason Todd, his legs stretched out in front of him, the familiar weight of his leather jacket brushing against your side. For once, there were no patrols, no dangerous missions—just the two of you. You should’ve felt at ease, but the way Jason had been acting lately was gnawing at you. He’d been quieter, more distant, like something was weighing on him, and it was starting to scare you.

You couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“Jason,” you began, glancing over at him. His face was cast in shadows, but you could still see the tension in his jaw. “What’s going on? You’ve been… different lately. I feel like you’re pulling away.”

Jason didn’t answer right away. His eyes remained on the horizon, staring at something distant, something only he could see. After a long pause, he sighed, his breath a soft puff of air in the quiet night.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally said, his voice low, rough, like he didn’t want to say the words out loud. “About us. About what we have.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden wave of anxiety washed over you. This is it, you thought. He’s going to leave. The idea of him walking away, of losing him, was too much to bear. But you steeled yourself, bracing for whatever he was about to say.

“And?” you prompted, keeping your voice steady.

Jason shifted, turning his head slightly to look at you. His blue eyes, usually so sharp and defiant, were softer now, filled with something raw and vulnerable.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The words hit you like a wave, and all the breath seemed to leave your lungs at once. You blinked, not expecting that. Of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing you expected.

“Jay…” you began, but he wasn’t finished.

“I’ve lost a lot of people,” he continued, his gaze dropping to his hands, which were clenched into fists in his lap. “I’ve had everything taken from me—my life, my family, my identity. But you… you’re the one thing I have left. The one thing that makes me feel like I’m still… me.”

You felt your chest tighten as you listened to him. Jason rarely opened up like this, and when he did, it was always hard to hear just how much pain he carried around with him. But you also knew that this—you—mattered to him more than anything else. And the thought of losing you terrified him in ways he couldn’t even begin to express.

“I’m scared, okay?” Jason said, his voice growing more desperate, more raw. “I’m scared that one day, something’s going to happen, and I’ll lose you. And I won’t be able to handle it. Not again.”

Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers lacing through his. His grip tightened immediately, like he was afraid to let go.

“Jason,” you said softly, scooting closer to him, your knee brushing his. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me.”

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “You say that now, but Gotham isn’t safe. I’m not safe. Everyone I care about—everyone I let in—ends up hurt. Or worse.”

You could hear the self-blame in his voice, the guilt that never seemed to leave him, no matter how hard he tried to outrun it. Gently, you cupped his cheek with your free hand, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you repeated, your voice firm, but filled with love. “I’m here. I’m staying. I know what kind of life this is—what it means to be with you. But I chose it. I chose you. No matter how dangerous it gets, no matter what happens out there, I’m not leaving.”

Jason closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. For a moment, you just sat there, your hand on his cheek, his fingers still gripping yours like a lifeline. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with that same vulnerability, that deep need for reassurance.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

“Don’t say that,” you said softly, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “You deserve love, Jason. You deserve happiness. And I’m not going to let you push me away just because you’re scared of losing it.”

A small, almost broken laugh escaped him, and he shook his head, the tension finally starting to ease from his shoulders. “How did I get so lucky?” he muttered, half to himself.

“You’ve always had me, Jay,” you said with a smile, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. “And you always will.”

Jason’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just held you there, like he was grounding himself in your presence. Then, slowly, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until you were pressed against his chest, his warmth surrounding you.

“I’m not letting go of you,” Jason murmured, his lips brushing your hair. “Not now. Not ever.”

“Good,” you whispered, nuzzling into his neck. “Because I’m not letting you go either.”

For the first time in a long time, Jason felt at peace. There was no fight to prepare for, no looming threat waiting to steal away the people he cared about. For once, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to lose the one thing he loved most.

And that was enough.

--

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[dovesdreaming]

Minds entwined

Summary: Cassandra is able to read someone’s mind gently but she just chose not to usually, until you. She needed to know the truth about your feelings without hurting you.

Masterlist

-

The room was dimly lit, the hum of soft machinery echoing through the space. Cassandra Nova leaned against the wall, her imposing figure cloaked in shadow, eyes gleaming with an unsettling intelligence. The Reader stood in the middle, feeling the weight of her gaze. The psychic tension was palpable, but Cassandra, for once, was holding back choosing not to pry. Yet. "You know” Cassandra said, her voice like silk, slipping between words with a dangerous ease, "I’ve never enjoyed reading a woman's mind. Something about it... unsettles me. But you” she continued, stepping forward, "You, my dear, are different”.

Your heart skipped a beat. The subtle implications behind Cassandra’s words were enough to leave anyone shaken, but it was the undertone, the invitation to explore further, that truly left you feeling exposed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you muttered, trying to avoid eye contact. You could feel Cassandra’s presence getting closer, her figure looming, a faint smile dancing on her lips. “Oh, I think you do”.

Cassandra lifted her hand, extending it toward you. It wasn’t the forceful invasion she'd used on others this time, her touch was soft, almost tender, resting just beside your temple. “Do you really think you can hide it from me? What you're feeling... towards me?”

Your breath hitched, but you remained silent, refusing to give in to the swirling thoughts Cassandra was on the verge of accessing. Cassandra’s fingertips danced along the side of your face, her other hand brushing against the back of your neck in a surprisingly gentle, comforting gesture. “I don’t need to dig deep” Cassandra purred, her tone lower now, soothing. “You’ve kept this hidden, haven't you? It must be exhausting. Let me help ease the burden..”

Cassandra’s powers slipped into your mind with a finesse rarely employed by the telepath. It wasn't the brutal extraction of thoughts she was known for, it was something delicate, warm even.

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk as she felt the truth stir within the your mind. The feelings, the quiet yearning, the unspoken attraction were all there. Gently, Cassandra let the thoughts rise to the surface, coaxing them without force, without pain. “You want me” she whispered, her lips dangerously close to your ear now, her voice almost intoxicating. “You’ve wanted me for a while. And I, darling, find that very... compelling”. You shuddered, fighting back the admission, but it was futile. Cassandra’s eyes sparkled with triumph as she probed deeper. Her hand trailed down your neck, her psychic touch drawing out the truth that you could no longer hide. “I knew it” Cassandra breathed out, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “You’re mine”.

Your heart raced, not out of fear but something far more dangerous, desire. Cassandra leaned in, her breath hot against your skin. “You could’ve just told me, you know” Cassandra teased, her hand gently tilting tour chin up. “But I have to admit, this, this is far more satisfying”. There was no cruelty in her voice this time. Only victory. And something else. Affection. The realization hit you harder than expected. Cassandra wasn't just toying with your emotions. She felt something too, didn’t she?

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” You asked, almost breathless now, your minds still connected as Cassandra held your gaze. Cassandra smiled softly. “No, my dear. I’m not. Because I like you. More than I ever expected”. For the first time, there was a softness in Cassandra’s expression, a vulnerability only you could see, her mind still swirling with the undeniable truth they both now shared. This cat and mouse game was over. And you had both won.

-

Thank you for reading!

[angelnumber27]

It’s so embarrassing and heartbreaking being in so much pain over losing someone while knowing they don’t give a fuck if you live or die. Your favorite person becoming a stranger is a special kind of hell.

[toddtakefive]

btw todd’s reluctance to join the dps because he doesn’t want to read (which is then accommodated for) and is scared to put himself out there (which is also worked through) being read as todd not wanting to go AT ALL, and thus neil making the proper accommodations (“todd anderson, who prefers not to read, will keep the minutes of the meetings”) and encouraging him to step out of the box that stifles him being seen as ‘forceful’ or like he can’t take no for an answer makes me insane with rage

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

it’s not fair that so much of my memory and cognitive function is tied up in something I cannot control or reasonably prevent

[consumer-o-content]

“Dramatic Irony Should Have Limits: Why The First Arc is the Most Infuriating Piece of Media Ever Created” - an essay on why reading the first arc makes me want to rip my hair out and roll around on the floor

[yuribalisms]

Essentially what it is all boiling down to is I have fully realized I am bad at being a person, that will always be true, and I don’t know how to handle that

[distantwave]

[fingertipsmp3]

Not to be one of those people who complains but why are the two library books I reserved 3 weeks ago (as the first person in the queue mind you. And both of them are popular books with multiple copies available) still not ready

[chibelial]

.

[scretladyspider]

demisexuality can be so hard to explain because it’s misconstrued as you just wanting to trust the other person before you have sex with them. and I get why the misconception happens. But demisexuality differs in that there isn’t sexual attraction at all before that bond forms.

I think what people have difficulty with is the idea that there are people out there who aren’t experiencing sexual attraction at all until a certain point, if ever, because we’re taught that sex, libido, and sexual attraction are all the same, both in and out of queer spaces.

And when you’re learning about asexuality and demisexuality, you may learn that people have romantic and aesthetic attraction separately from sexual attraction, and that sexual and romantic attraction aren’t necessarily intertwined, and that may challenge your worldview on sex.

But “I trust you enough to have sex with you” isn’t the same as “I’m not sexually attracted to anyone but you, and the reason I’m sexually attracted to you now after we’ve established this close bond is literally because of the bond of trust we’ve been able to form”.

It’s easy to see how those can get conflated. On the surface, if you’re unfamiliar with asexuality, they may sound the same. But it’s important to acknowledge the difference between “no sex until I trust you” and “no sexual attraction unless I trust you and maybe not even then”.

Demisexuality is housed under the asexuality spectrum. It’s part of the gray area between being allosexual and asexual. It’s part of why the definition for asexuality includes “little to no sexual attraction”. It’s a mostly asexual experience with an asterisk.

While being demisexual may have impacts on a persons sexual activity, even demisexuals have a varied relationship to the act of participating in sex. Libido and sexual attraction are not always intertwined either, which can make telling the difference tricky.

I think of sexual attraction as libido that has a compass. Since I rarely ever experience sexual attraction, but do have libido, it’s noticeable for me when that libido actually has a direction to go, rather than being a floating, nebulous, independent thing.

Remember, not everyone is demisexual. There’s a difference between waiting to have sex and not having sexual attraction at all until a certain point. This also inherently ties demisexuality to romantic attraction and relationships, and not all demisexuals are alloromantic.

But if you read what demisexuality is and think “everyone is like that” or “that’s just being a woman”, you either 1) are demisexual 2) don’t understand what it is or 3) both. And it’s okay to not know. Just as long as you’re willing to try to learn.