#i hope it is clear that i know this is not that deep

[jasminumdew]

Sylus (werewolf)

Notes: I loveee primal play, it was so fun writing this. I actually finished this about 10 days ago, but a big typhoon went through my place and cut out all power, water, and Internet for a few days, I decided to wait until there was Wi-Fi connection, didn’t think it would be this long. But everything’s fine now, hope you guys enjoy this ^^

Warnings: MDNI, he says “kitten” 3-4 times, pure smut, primal play, chasing through the wood, squirting x2, oral (fem received), piv, knotting, overstimulated

Wc: 1,7k

Event host: @nanamiscocksleeve

Summary: Being in a relationship with a werewolf comes with indulging in his instinct to hunt, and you’re more than happy to being his prey. With this being your first time in this scene, you and Sylus have planned out everything beforehand, he insisted on making sure you’re comfortable and won’t get hurt. It’s simple. You run and he chases after, then when he catches you, you need to act as if you don’t know him, and just unfortunately bump into a werewolf and fight back when that monster tries to mate with you. Sounds hot and easy enough. Ready? Run!

You’re out of breath. Barely a few minutes in this cat and mouse game and you’re already exhausted. You curse under your breath how you should’ve exercised more often for this. But how common it is to be chased in the wood by a werewolf? Your legs were screaming for a break for 10 minutes now. Or was it more? You don’t have any concept of time now, being alone in the dark cold wood, surrounded by darkness and relying solely on the faint light from the moon.

You can hear hardly hear anything besides the sounds of your heavy breath, your legs thumping on the dry grass, and the occasional howl of the beast chasing after you. You don’t know if he is still watching you in the shadow or that you’ve successfully cut your track. But the chances are thin, werewolf are famous for their extraordinary hearing and smelling ability. There’s no way you’ll be able to escape this wood without his canine mark deep into your flesh. Running away from him seems like a really bad idea now that you’re realizing it. Making yourself a small and easy prey to the mighty predator, who gets off on the high adrenaline of this little chasing game. It’s not like you can go back and make a different choice. So you run fast, completely oblivious to where you’re heading to, playing the dangerous game with no way out.

No matter how carefully you planned things out, it still didn’t prepare you for how intense it actually is, deep in the wood with no flashlight in hand, eyes hardly adjusted when everywhere looks just the same. Sylus knows this place in the back of his hand, you know he won’t let anything bad happen and you can trust him with your life, but your heart still beating like a drum, loud and clear in your ears.

Your whole body was burning, demanding for a rest. You hide yourself low, under the thick bush near an old white oak tree. You press your hands on the chest, forcing yourself to keep your breathing and heartbeat to quiet down. You heard an echo caw of a crow nearby, other than those, it’s all too quiet. Strangely so. You peak your head to watch out for any sign that he’s approach closer. Then you hear it, the sounds of a huge beast searching for its sweet prey, too big to hide his presence. You know for a fact that you can only hear him if he chooses to let you, you’re completely in his control. He doesn’t rush, just slowly goes through the surrounding, playing a little mind game with his prey, making her always on guard and overstimulated by fear.

The sudden grunting from behind your neck sends chill down your spine. Your body’s complete frozen, as if you think if you don’t move and keep your breathing even, you’ll disappear from his vision. But you understand it’s the only chance you get before being his meal tonight. Your legs quickly move but to no avail, you couldn’t even run away a few steps before being pushed to the ground on your back, making you yelp from pain. Under the moonlight, a massive wolf lays itself on top of you, heavy weight knocks the remaining air out of your lungs.

His red eyes staring deep into yours, it reminds you of the fresh color of blood, and you, being the center of those, will soon be swallowed whole by it. What looks like a huge wolf shifts into a more human-like one, returning to a hairless body, still bigger than any man you’ve encountered, with his hair the same shade as the pale moon that’s now shining down on his silhouette. Your cheeks and ears turn bright red, observing his naked body, prominent abs and full muscles. Focus focus focus. You chant in your head like casting some kind of spell. You try your best to fight back, pushing his jaw away from your face, biting his hand, kicking him, only to get laugh at. “Come on, struggle a little more for me, kitten”. His deep voice sends a wave of arousal deep to your core, scratches an itch deep down inside you that you tried to hide. “Shut up” you snap, your legs pull to your chest, kicking his belly with your whole strength. His hands grab your ankles with ease, letting your thighs rest on his broad shoulders. Then before you have the time to react, he pushes up your top to your wrists, tying your poor shirt like a bow to keep you from squirming. “There, all nice and pretty. Wrapped like a present for me huh?”, he smirks, kissing your inner thighs through your leggings.

“Let me go you disgusting pervert!”

He doesn’t faze by your words, but instead, his hands find their way to your waistband, pulling it down to your ankles. He hums in amusement with a clear view of your core soaking wet, your pretty clit clenching as if begging for some friction. “Are you sure I’m the pervert here, sweetheart?” he teases, before kissing his way down from your belly, to your inner thighs, then he dives right in, devouring you without mercy. He’s such a messy eater, slurping and sucking on your bundle of nerves so eagerly like he’s gone for days without anything in his stomach. You cry out the sweetest moans, can’t move away from his tongue abusing your sensitive bud, his hands have your thighs in a dead grip, refusing to let go even when you’re twitching and sniffling. You cum hard in his mouth, squirting like a small fountain and he slurps it all in with a satisfying hum.

You let out a shaky breath when his mouth finally left your pussy, drenching in the mixture of your shared fluids. But the relief doesn’t stay for long when you notice his rock-hard cock in his hand, the tip has an angry red shade and his knot swells uncomfortably, waiting to be buried deep inside your wall. He pushes through your first ring with a throaty grunt. You’re always tighter after your first orgasm. Sucking on your neck right on top of his mating bite mark, his cock touches all sweet spots of yours, making you squeeze down on him unconsciously. His red eyes never leave yours, capturing your every expression, every gasp and moan, how your soul seems to be sucked out of your body every time his tip brushes through her cervix.

Your wetness makes it all too easy for his knot to slip in than usual, but he still feeds his knot to you slowly to let you adjust to his size. Your cunt’s so overstimulated with his knot keeps pushing in and out, brushing through your small beans. “Please...” you cry out, wishing your hands were untied so you can reach down and rub it until you reach your peak.

“Hmm? What’s that?” he asks, not even bothering to mask the smugness in his voice.

“Touch me” you plead, gasping for air when he grinds on it more. He turns his head, looking clueless, “But I am touching you, darling? Be more specific and I might give it to you”

Ughh you want to slap his face so badly. He knows what you want and chooses to be mean about it when you crave him so much. His touch feels so good, the only thing you need now is to cum on his thick, veiny cock and squeezing his knot until he burst inside you.

“I need you to rub my clit, I want to cum so bad, please please please I beg you” you whine, clenching down on him oh so sweetly to make him pleased. “Good girl” he chuckles, massaging your sweet spot with his thumb, you whine in pleasure, arching your back. Taking all of his knot, he bites down on your neck, grinding into your G-spot so hard you can see stars. His grinding turns sloppy, he kisses you when you cum together, and that to you was the most heavenly feeling ever.

When you can catch your breath, his thumb moves again, drawing tight circles around your poor clit. “No, please, I can’t anymore” you cry out. He coos, “Yes you can, give me one more, kitten”. His tongue swirls around your nipple before sucking it in, playing with the other with his free hand. A tight knot unravels too fast, you didn’t get to warn him before squirting again, making a mess on his abdomen and thighs. You can feel him twitching inside, the warm fluid paints your wall white again.

He rolls over, careful not to hurt you with his knot, and lets you lie on top of him. He frees your hands from your now creasy shirt and strokes your cheek. “How was it?”. You rest your head on his shoulder, answer sleepily. “I really enjoyed it. Though my legs probably won’t be able to move tomorrow after all those running…and banging” you giggle, breathing in your mate’s scent. Then, suddenly remember something, your head jerks up. “Did you use Mephisto to cheat, Sy? I heard a crow with a very annoying voice, guess you’re not that good at hunting”.

He pinches your cheek, “Are you underestimating my ability? I don’t need assistance when your sweet scent leads me straight to your hiding place”. You yelp, holding your sore cheek and glaring at him. “That’s not fair. I’ll rub all kinds of smells on me next time so you’ll be distracted and I can win for once”. His answer makes your body tingle. “That won’t work because I can recognize my mate’s scent no matter what. Besides, you love it when I win, don’t you kitten?”

You huff in annoyance, hiding your grin in his chest. It won’t be long until his cock starts twitching again, better rest while you can, you have a long long night ahead.

[joelmillermylove]

The familiar stranger Pt.1

dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel Miller your dads best friend can’t control himself around you anymore, he makes a move and things heat up. Warning: Smutty themes, age gap (reader in her mid 20s, Joel in his late 40s). Forbidden love, sexual tension. Word count: 2,915 A/N: I’m so proud of this one🥹 Hope everyone loves it as much as I do! Part 2 coming soon!

The summer heat was relentless, pressing down on you with an almost physical weight as you sat on the front porch of your father’s house, the squeak of the rocking chair the only sound in the heavy air. The air conditioner hummed softly inside, but out here, it was still and quiet, save for the occasional call of a bird in the distance.

You lifted the bottle of cold beer to your lips, savoring the brief relief from the heat as the cool glass pressed against your skin. It was a Saturday afternoon like any other, lazy and unhurried, until the sound of tires crunching on the gravel drive pulled your attention. A familiar beat-up truck came into view, dust kicking up as it rolled to a stop.

Joel.

He stepped out of the truck with a heavy grunt, his broad shoulders tensed as if already bracing for whatever task your father had roped him into this time. His plaid shirt clung to him in the heat, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the strong forearms you couldn’t help but notice. It was impossible not to. Joel Miller wasn’t the kind of man who blended into the background—he took up space, his presence commanding without even trying.

For as long as you could remember, Joel had been a constant in your life. He was your father’s best friend, the one who helped out around the house when your dad needed an extra hand, the one who was there for every barbecue, every fishing trip, every birthday. He had always been there—solid, reliable, a fixture in your world.

And yet, lately, something had shifted.

It wasn’t him, not exactly. Joel was the same as ever—gruff, quiet, protective in that silent way of his. But you had changed. You weren’t the little girl he used to tease about your pigtails and scraped knees. You weren’t the teenager who had asked him to teach you how to change a tire just so you could feel like you knew something about the world.

You were an adult now, and the way you looked at Joel had shifted into something you didn’t fully understand. Something you weren’t entirely comfortable with.

He looked up, his eyes catching yours as he slammed the truck door shut. There was a moment, a beat too long where neither of you looked away, and you felt your heart stutter in your chest. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze, something that made your skin prickle with an awareness you hadn’t asked for.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice that familiar low rumble that always seemed to settle somewhere deep in your chest. “Your dad home?”

You shook your head, clearing your throat to push past the tightness. “Ran into town for a few things. Should be back in a bit.”

Joel nodded, glancing around before stepping onto the porch. He moved with the kind of ease that came with years of knowing exactly where everything was—your father’s house was as much his as it was your family’s, it seemed. He dropped into the chair beside yours with a groan, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

Silence settled between you, comfortable but heavy in a way it hadn’t been before. You tried to focus on anything else—the way the sun filtered through the trees, the faint rustle of the breeze—but your eyes kept drifting back to Joel. To the lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his hand rested on his thigh, strong and steady.

“How’s work?” you asked, if only to break the silence that felt like it might swallow you whole.

He shrugged, taking a swig of his own beer. “Busy. Always busy.”

You nodded, not really sure what else to say. Joel wasn’t one for small talk, and in truth, you weren’t either. But something in the air felt thick, weighted, like there was something unsaid hovering just beneath the surface. Something that had been building for weeks now, maybe longer.

“You been alright?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer, more careful than you were used to hearing from him.

You blinked, taken off guard by the question. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He turned his head, looking at you fully now, and there was that same intensity in his gaze that made your pulse quicken. “Dunno. You just seem…different lately.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond to that. Because you were different, weren’t you? You couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, the lines had started to blur. The way you looked at Joel wasn’t the way a daughter looked at her father’s best friend anymore. And that scared you, more than you wanted to admit.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, but even to your ears, it sounded weak.

Joel’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away, setting his beer down on the porch railing. “Good,” he muttered, almost as if to himself. “That’s good.”

The silence stretched out again, and this time it was unbearable. You stood, needing to move, to get away from the sudden weight of the moment.

“I should go inside, see if Dad needs help when he gets back,” you said, more of an excuse than anything else.

Joel’s hand reached out, fingers brushing lightly against your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a shock through you all the same. You froze, looking down at his hand, then back up at his face.

“Wait,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur that thrummed through the air between you.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. The world seemed to narrow to just this—just the space between you, the heat of his touch, the way his eyes searched yours as if looking for something he wasn’t sure he wanted to find.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved. But in that stillness, in that silence, something shifted. Something irrevocable.

Joel’s fingers lingered on your wrist just a second too long before he pulled away. It was subtle, but it was enough to leave you reeling, the warmth of his touch burning into your skin as if it had branded you. You stood there, frozen, caught between a hundred different feelings that made no sense, each one pulling you in a different direction.

You wanted to ask him what that meant—what that touch meant. But you didn’t trust yourself to say the right thing. You didn’t trust your voice not to tremble. So instead, you muttered something about needing to grab a glass of water and hurried into the house, the screen door slamming shut behind you.

Inside, the cool air did little to calm the storm raging in your chest. You leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to catch your breath. The beat of your heart was loud, too loud, and your thoughts were a mess—Joel’s touch, the way he had looked at you, the weight of the moment that had passed between you like a live wire.

What the hell was that?

You didn’t want to think about it. But how could you not? There had always been something about Joel—something you couldn’t quite put into words. He wasn’t just your father’s best friend anymore, not to you. He hadn’t been for a long time.

You ran the tap and splashed cold water on your face, hoping it might snap you out of the thoughts swirling in your head. The water dripped down your neck, cool but not nearly enough to shake the feeling that had settled deep inside you.

Joel was still outside. You could see him through the window, his elbows resting on his knees as he sat on the porch, his head bent forward. From here, he looked tired—more tired than you were used to seeing him. He always had that quiet strength, that sense of reliability, but today, it felt like there was a heaviness in him you hadn’t noticed before.

You sighed and turned away from the window, trying to distance yourself from the pull you felt toward him. But it was impossible to ignore.

Just as you were about to retreat to your room, you heard the front door creak open behind you. You didn’t turn around right away, didn’t want to face him, not after what had just happened. But his voice reached you before anything else did, low and soft.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

You nodded quickly, pretending to busy yourself with drying your hands. “Yeah, just needed a minute.”

A long pause filled the space between you before Joel’s footsteps sounded softly against the kitchen floor. You felt him before you saw him, the presence of him behind you like a magnetic force you couldn’t escape. He didn’t say anything right away, and that only made the tension thicker.

When you finally turned to face him, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your throat go dry. His hands were in his pockets, but his body was tense, as if he was holding himself back.

“You seem… off,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I—”

“No.” You cut him off too quickly, shaking your head. “No, you didn’t do anything.”

His brow furrowed slightly, unconvinced. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you lied, though you weren’t sure of anything anymore. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue because you knew that both of you were aware of what was left unsaid.

Joel’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again. “You know, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

Your breath hitched at the closeness of him, the gentleness of his tone. The Joel you knew wasn’t this soft, wasn’t this careful. And it was that softness, that care, that made your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I—” You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “It’s nothing, Joel. Really.”

But he didn’t back off. His eyes searched yours, his brow still furrowed in concern, but there was something else there, something that made your stomach twist in a way that both terrified and thrilled you. You’d never seen him look at you like that before. And it made it impossible to breathe.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Joel exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Damn it, kid,” he muttered, and for the first time, there was something raw in his voice—something that made your chest tighten.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” you blurted, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “I’m not.”

Joel’s eyes snapped to yours, and the tension in the room shifted again. This time, it was darker, more dangerous. He didn’t move, but the way he looked at you now wasn’t the way a man looked at someone he thought of as a kid. It was the way a man looked at something he knew he shouldn’t want.

But the worst part was that you wanted him to look at you that way. You’d wanted it for longer than you cared to admit, and now that it was happening, you didn’t know how to handle it.

“I know that,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Trust me, I know.”

He stepped closer and your pulse quickened. He wasn’t touching you yet, but the space between you was chargerd, like a live wire about to spark. You could feel his eyes on you, lingering in a way that sent heat coursing through your body, pooling low in your belly.

“This isn’t….” His voice was rough, as if the words were difficult to push out. “This isn’t a good idea”.

But he didn’t stop moving towards you and you didn’t back away, You should have. You knew you should have.

This was Joel, your dads best friend. There were lines you weren’t supposed to cross. But the way he was looking at you, the way his breath hitched when he got closer, it made it impossible to think clearly.

“I know” you whispered, but your body betrayed you, leaning toward him, drawn in like you were powerless to stop it. 

His hand came up, hesitating for just a moment before his fingers brushed your arm, trailing a path of heat as he slid them up towards your shoulder. The touch was light, barley there, but it was enough to make you shiver, your breath catching in your throat.

“Damn it” he muttered and before you could react he closed the distance between you his body pressing against yours, pinning you against the counter. His hand gripped your was it, firm and possessive, like he had been holding back for too long and couldn’t anymore.

The sudden closeness stole the air from your lungs and for a moment neither of you moved. His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and ragged as it ghosted over your lips. Your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it, feel it, the way your chest rose and fell with every shallow breath.

“You’re so beautiful” he murmured, his grip on you tightened, his hand sliding around to the small of your back, pulling you even closer.

All you could do was stand there, caught in the heat of the moment, in the way his body felt pressed against yours, in the way your body ached for more.

Slowly you lifted your hands to his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, smelling his intoxicating cologne. His breath hitched at your touch and that small sound, that tiny moment of weakness made your pulse race. You wanted more, needed more.

“Joel…” you whispered again, but this time it wasn’t a warning. it was a plea. 

His eyes darkened, is jaw clenched tight as he stared down at you, like he was on the verge of something dangerous, something he couldn’t take back. His thumb brushed your cheek, his touch gentle despite the storm of emotions raging between you.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into darlin” he said voice hoarse, almost broken. But his eyes flicked to your lips and you could feel the tension rising, the air between you crackling with need.

“I know what exactly what im doing Joel” you breathed, your fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.

That was all it took.

With a loud growl, Joels mouth crashed against yours and it was like a dam breaking. This kiss was hungry, desperate, as if both of you had been holding back for too long and couldn’t bear it anymore. His hands roamed over your body, rough and urgent, as if he needed to feel every inch of you beneath his touch.

You gasped into his mouth, your hands sliding up to wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer, deeper. His tongue parted your lips, the taste of him overwhelming your senses as he kissed you like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough,

Every touch, every kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you and you arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the heat and weight of him. His hands slid under your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“You feel so damn good sweetheart” he groaned against your lips, his voice rough and desperate as he kissed his way down your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp.

Your head tilted back, giving him more access as he moved lower, his mouth hot against the sensitive skin of your neck. Every brush of his lips, every scrape of his teeth made you dizzy, made you ache for more.

But just as quickly as it had started, Joel pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with wild, dark eyes.

“Wait…” his voice strained, his forehead resting against yours again as he struggled to catch his breath. “We shouldn’t do this” 

You were both breathless, your bodies still pressed together, the heat between you palpable, overwhelming.

“I don’t care” you whispered, your hands still clutching his shirt, unwilling to let him go.

“Fuck” he says under his breath, his fingers digging into your waist was like he was fighting a battle with himself, torn between what he knew was right and what his body wanted.

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to give in. His lips hovered dangerously close to yours again, his breath hot against your skin. But then, with groan of frustration, he pulled away, stepping back as if putting distance between you was the only way to keep himself from losing control completely.

“I can’t” he said, voice tight, like it hurt to say the words. “Not like this”

You stood there, chest heaving, heart racing, the taste of him still on your lips, your body aching from the sudden loss of contact.

And then, without another word, Joel turned and walked out, leaving you alone in the kitchen, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

You leaned against the counter, your head spinning, your body still humming with the memory of his touch. 

Things had gone too far. There was no going back now and that was okay with you.

[flemingsfreckles]

Drunk Dial Pt. 3

Read the rest of the series here

Warnings: mentions of sex, illusions to sex, cursing, verbal argument, basically Jessie and R yelling at each other for the majority of this chapter

WC: 3.4k

A/N: this is the end of this little series, i have a feeling some of you won’t be too happy with this being where i leave it, but this is sort of a left up to your interpretation ending… don’t forget some of you voted for this ;) (unknowingly, but you did)

You stood looking at yourself in the bathroom off of Haley’s bedroom. Across your body, a sleep shirt from some college, not one you attended and it wasn’t the familiar UCLA logo you had grown to know. On your bottom a pair of sleep shorts you didn’t recognize either. You had just woken up but you were ready to go home, you didn’t need to stay here, you felt out of place being here. That’s when you see your phone light up, Jessie’s face across it.

“Shit shit shit.” You scramble to grab your phone.

You quickly pop your head into Haley’s bedroom. “Uh, sorry, phone call, I should take this. It’s um, work.” You lied, she nodded and pointed out the door toward her living room.

Once the door is closed behind you, you take a deep breath and answer the call, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hey.” You whisper.

“Hey, why are you whispering?” Jessie’s tone immediately turned accusatory.

“Um, no reason.” You say, clearing your throat and trying to make the hush in your voice less obvious. It’s not like you could tell her where you were, she didn’t need to know the choices you made last night and how regretful you were about them this morning.

“Okay, well I’m on my way over, we need to talk. About last night, about the other night, we need to talk about all of it.”

“Um.” You frantically look around the living room, finding your sweatshirt that had been haphazardly thrown off last night, slipping it over your head. “I’m not home right now. So just give me a little bit.”

“Where are you? It’s 8 in the morning.” You could hear traffic in the background of Jessie’s call, an indication she was likely already on her way.

“No where, I can be there in like 30 minutes.” You hang up before she can ask you any more questions about your whereabouts. You open the bedroom door, Haley is now sitting up in bed, the covers pulled up around her body.

“Hey sorry, I um, I have to go, work calls.” You play it off with a smile and a shake of your cell phone.

“Oh no worries.” She waves a hand at you and gives you a polite smile.

My clothes?” You question the girl.

“Should still be out by the couch.”

“Right, thanks.” You hurry out toward the couch, grabbing the pile of clothes before heading back into the bathroom, quickly taking off the shirt and shorts you had been lent, putting your own jeans and shirt from the night before back on. You walk out of the bathroom, giving Haley another look. “I put the dirty ones in the basket.”

“Got it, thanks.” She gives you a nod. “Have a good rest of your day, I’ll text you. Good luck with, ya know, everything.”

“Thanks.” You give her a tightlipped smile before excusing yourself and heading out her bedroom door and down the hall out of her apartment. You hopped in your car, barely letting it turn on before you threw it in drive. Driving faster than you should have, you raced to your place, hoping somehow you would be able to beat Jessie there.

Your heart drops when you turn the corner toward the entryway of your building and there stands Jessie. You can see the expression on Jessie’s face turn sour, nearly a smile at the start before she examines you and she’s suddenly sporting a scowl. “So I guess that date must have been better than you lead on.” Jessie states as she looks you up and down once you’re a few feet from her.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Are you sure? You clearly went to see someone after you left me.” She gestures to your clothing, you suddenly wish you had spare clothes in the car, or you had worn Haley’s clothes home, you could’ve played it off that you had bought new ones, that Jessie just hasn’t seen them before. But you were wearing the clothes she had touched and seen last night, she knew. “I have a feeling it was her. You left me, for her, for someone you barely know.”

“Jessie, that’s not what happened.” You notice your voice raising, trying to defend yourself in an unfortunate situation.

“You sure? Because that’s how it feels and that’s what it fucking looks like.” Jessie raises her voice right back at you, something she had hardly done when the two of you were together, occasionally during an argument but the Canadian held her temper and emotions close most of the time. She waved a hand up and down reminding you that you were in fact still in your clothes from last night.

“Can we do this inside?” You look around at the pedestrian traffic that is passing by the two of you. A couple giving you looks as the two of you argued.

“Sure.” Jessie says, rolling her eyes but following you silently as you open the door to your building and walk to the elevator. The ride up is quiet, as is the walk down the hallway. Once inside your apartment you find your way to the dining room, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“So we should talk about what happened, all of it.” You say, a twinge in annoyance in your voice.

“Where do you want to start?” Jessie says, propping herself against the wall, her arms crossed across her chest.

the way she stood, arms crossed in defense as if you were the only one in the wrong here, pissed you off. “Oh I don’t know Jessie. Maybe the part where you hid the fact that I told you my feelings when I was drunk? Or how when I left the next morning you told me you weren’t in love with me anymore, only for you drunkenly invited me out last night only to drop the bomb on me that you do in fact still love me? Or how you were trying to get me to take you home and fuck you last night? We have options Jessie, where do you want to start?”

“Where do I want to start?” She stares back at you, raising her voice slightly. “You’re the one who broke the no contact that we had agreed on in the first place calling me after you got stood up! You’re the one who hid these feelings and were too scared to tell me all this time. Then you confess them while you’re drunk, leaving me in a weird spot. I didn’t know what to do. Not to mention your little “gift” you gave me. I’m sorry for calling you yesterday if that’s what you want to hear. But coming yesterday and then pawning me off to Arnold was a shitty move.”

“I didn’t pawn you off, jez Jessie, I wanted to make sure you were safe! You were drunk, it wasn’t the right time for us to talk, or sort this out.” You throw your hands up at her, fists clenched in frustration.

“But it was the time for you to go fuck some girl you hardly know?!” Her cheeks were starting to turn the familiar red that you used to tease her for, you always thought she looked adorable with the slight blush, only now that blush that was caused by compliments or teasing comments was now being caused by the way she yelled at you.

“I didn’t fuck her!” You scream back, your hand coming down to hit the table. You had never yelled at Jessie like this, not when you argued or fought, not when you broke up, never.

Jessie scoffs, “I find that hard to believe.” She’s still defensive in her tone but it’s quieter, almost as if she’s scared.

You immediately drop the anger from your voice. “Jessie I didn’t. I wasn’t in a good mood last night when I left the bar, I panicked, and I called her because I needed someone. I got to her place, and when she let me in, we watched a movie and talked and I broke down about you to her. I was hysterical, I didn’t know what to do.”

That was the truth. You had been embarrassed about it, you showed up to Haley’s door. You knew she was likely expecting sex, that you had called her for a late night hook up. Instead what she got was you at her doorstep, asking to talk.

You started off by apologizing for wasting her time on your date earlier that day. You told her you weren’t ready to commit to anything, and you should’ve realized that before trying to date again. She had been understanding, not making you feel any worse for what had happened. The two of you agreed friendship could be the path you take instead. The more you two talked the more you told her. You told her about Jessie, your past and your current feelings. She offered as good of advice as she could and when you cried about it, she comforted you, offering you to stay the night due to how late it was. You took her up on the offer for the couch, and also for the pair of old shorts and shirt to sleep in. You thought nothing of it, no one would know, it wouldn’t be a problem. You hadn’t expected Jessie to call you bright and early the next morning demanding to see you instantly.

“But you spent the night, you were there this morning, that’s why you were whispering.”

“On the couch! I spent the night on the couch!” You exclaim. “Jessie, I don’t know how to prove it, nothing happened between her and I, we didn’t even kiss. She was being a friend, that’s all I see myself being with her.”

“I find that so hard to believe!”

“We didn’t do anything, nothing!”

“Fine, let’s say you didn’t fuck her, did you go with the intention of fucking her? Did you plan to use her to get over me, to get me out of your head?”

Her question catches you off guard. “I-” you stutter, unsure of what to say and unsure of what your answer even should be. The truth was, you didn’t know. Maybe some tiny bit of you thought maybe you’d get laid, maybe some bit of you just wanted attention, the comfort of another body on yours, some part of you wanted someone to rant to, complain to. You just wanted someone.

Jessie clicks her tongue as you struggle to find the right words. “That’s all I need to know.” She nods slowly before starting to turn away from you.

“No Jessie, wait!” You stand up fast, knocking your chair out from behind you, creating a loud crash that has Jessie turning back to see what had happened. You leave the chair, climbing over it to make your way closer to her.

“No, because clearly you don’t know what you want, I can’t get involved with you again if you don’t know what you want.” She says walking away and towards the door.

“I know what I want.” You say as you walk after her, you couldn’t let her walk out of that door on you, you couldn’t lose her for a second time. You reach your hand out, catching hers stopping her in her tracks. She shakes her hand from your grip.

“I’m leaving.” Her hand turns the doorknob and as she steps out she turns back. “Call me once you have your head on straight and can actually talk with me.”

Being beyond frustrated your anger comes back and you shout at her as you watch her head down the hallway. “Fuck you Jessie, you invited yourself over, no warning, nothing, what if I wasn’t ready to talk?!”

She doesn’t answer, she doesn’t even turn back, doesn’t lift her head. She ignores you. The door to the stairs is swung open and her figure quickly disappears as she leaves out of your building.

“Fuck.” It wasn’t going to fix anything but shouting made it hurt less for the time being, so did the swift kick you gave to the door as you closed it.

That was your chance. That was your chance and you fucked it up.

You sent the rest of the afternoon spiraling, unsure of what to say, what to do, nothing felt right. You had cried, your eyes and head both still throbbing as a result. You spent a fair amount of time staring off at the wall, feeling numb to your surroundings. It wouldn’t change anything, you had the opportunity and you failed to win her back. When you tucked yourself into bed early, you tried everything in your power but to think of that brown eyes girl.

But you couldn’t get her out of your mind, she was in every thought, every emotion you had.

“This is so stupid.” The same words you had mumbled to yourself as you got out of your warm bed you repeated to yourself as you started walking. You were walking down the streets of Portland at quarter to midnight, not your brightest idea but you couldn’t stop thinking about her. You should’ve driven, probably safer and faster, but walking cleared your head and that’s what you needed, a clear head.

You walked yourself all the way to the doorstep of Jessie’s townhome, banging on the door. Raising your fist again to knock the door swings open and you nearly punch the Canadian.

“Sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is raspy, a little deep, you realize you’ve probably woken her from a sleep. She steps onto the porch closing the door behind her.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave earlier. I should have never let you leave. I still want you Jessie, I was stupid before, so stupid to let you ever go, I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve figured something else out, I should’ve tried something else before we called it quits.” You confess to her.

“So what, are you still in love with me?” The silence between the two of you after she asked was painful, you could practically hear your own blood pumping through your body. You definitely hadn’t expected such a direct question right off the start with her, but at least you’d get straight to the point.

“Are you?” You stare blankly back at Jessie, throwing her own question in her face. The two of you stand eye to eye, neither of you answering.

“What did I tell you at the bar yesterday?” Jessie finally says.

Squinting at her you’re not sure if it’s a rhetorical question or if you should answer, you take the safer option and just reiterate what she told you drunkenly last night. “That you were, you still loved me, you were still in love with me, that you had been too scared to tell me.”

“Then there’s your answer.” Jessie says, as if you were supposed to have assumed that on your own.

The longer you stared at her face the more you felt your anger and frustration with her fade and replacing it was the overwhelming urge to complete her request from last night, push her softly inside the door, kiss her against the wall, lift her into your arms and make the blind walk to her bedroom that you knew so well, take her to bed, make her yours again. Easier said than done and you knew taking her to bed would just complicate the already confusing situation the two of you were in.

“Then you know my answer too Jess.” The nickname slips out of your mouth, it wasn’t something you had called her in a long time. “I don’t know how to prove it, but please just trust me, nothing happened between me and that girl, nothing, Jessie I love you too much to do that.”

Bringing her hand up, she lets her fingers run through her hair before she pulls at the bottom of her sleep shirt. She releases a sigh and looks at the ground.

“So what does that mean for us?” She looks up at you, her brown eyes have a small glisten to them from the moon above both of your heads. You missed her eyes. You missed how she’d wink at you across a crowded room and your stomach would flutter, how she’d look up at you when you came to the side of the pitch to say hello after a game, how she’d steal glances at you when you sat snuggled into the couch. Those eyes made you feel seen in a way no one had before.

“What do you think it means?” You knew what you wanted it to mean, but you didn’t know if she felt the same.

“God some things never change do they?” Jessie fights back a smile as she looks at you with a small shake of her head.

“What does that mean?” You feel yourself starting to get defensive, your tone changing.

“You, the indecisiveness, you could never make choices when we were together. You could never pick a movie, never could pick a board game to play, never pick a restaurant, you never wanted to be the one to make the call, you could never pick anything.”

“I picked you Jessie. And I’d still pick you, everyday.” That was the truth, that was what you had been trying to say to her all along. She was your person, she was it for you, you just hoped she’d feel the same.

“If you’re actually choosing me then do it, pick me and tell me what you want to do, don’t put this on me, make a damn decision for once.” Jessie’s tone had shifted, less angry, less frustrated, it was soft and almost needy as if she was begging you.

“I’m not saying we're dating or that we even go on dates, or hook up, or anything. I’m also not saying we will ever go back to dating, we didn’t work the first time, who’s to say we would now, but I want to try, with you because I still love you, I’ve never stopped loving you. So maybe we start with removing that no contact plan we had? We talk again, we text again, you know, baby steps?” You feel yourself hold your breath when you finish speaking, as if you’re scared you’ve made a poor choice, that she’ll be mad at your proposal.

“Baby steps.” She gives a slow nod of her head, looking you up and down. “Okay, yeah, we can do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll uh, I’ll text you then.” You can feel the happiness blossoming in your chest.

“Sounds good, get home safe.” Jessie says before turning back to her door. You practically skip down the stairs and down the street all the way back to your home, feeling elated that you might have a chance to finally fix what you had broken months ago.

Jessie turned back, resting against the door, eyes closed. She perked up at the sound of footsteps coming in her direction, straightening up and blinking her eyes quickly as she made out the figure coming toward her.

“You alright? Who was that?” Jessie’s eyes fell on the dark haired girl standing in front of her who was wearing her old grey UCLA shirt that she had always let you borrow and a pair of her boxers. Jessie didn’t know her well, she hardly remembered her name as she stood looking at the woman. The dark red hickey that she had sucked into the unknown girl’s neck just hours ago was peeking out of the collar. Jessie knew there were a lot more hiding under her shirt as well. A wave of guilt flashed through her body, she had just been trying to get even. She hadn’t realized she’d woken her by leaving the bed, she had barely heard the knocking on the door.

Jessie shook her head at the girl. “No one. Wrong house number. You can go back to bed, I’ll be there in a second.”

[faithshouseofchaos]

hi i don't think this is a real request but for franco colapinto it's kinda cliche ikr (but i believe in your writing skills so)

older reader (u don't need to specific the age) who refuse to be with franco bc she thinks it's better for him to be with someone close his age, but ofc they're in love and franco is down bad for her even though she's kinda cruel sometimes

so angst with a happy end? or at least something realistic? idk and it's up to u to add other stuff! *oh and they're from the same country or foreigners etc*

“She calls me kidz bop” — Franco colapinto x fem!reader

Word count 3.5k

Warnings — Angst, heavy makeouts allusion of smut

This isn’t as good as I thought it would be

Tagged— @crispysoup318 @meeel-things @bieberismysoulmate @dejavuontrack @barcelonaloverf1life @nominsgirl @bluebluesol @chenlesbitxh @ironmaiden1313 @chunkpiboli @kr7-i-know-what-im-doing

Franco watched as y/n stood talking to her fellow driver Something deep inside him wished that she gave him the same attention as she did the rest of them. It didn’t matter if they had feelings for each other. It also didn’t matter that she was so cruel to him and gave him nicknames like Kidz Bop, Teeny Bopper, or Rug Rat.

He didn’t mind the teasing or the nicknames, he could take it. He’s used to being teased by others but not by the one he’s falling for, and he didn’t want to admit it but a part of him knew he was slowly concluding that he loved her. Franco leaned against the garage wall, staring at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

He continued to observe y/n’s body language. The way she stood with her arms crossed, the way she laughed at the other driver’s jokes, even the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was maddening.

Franco clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his frustration. He wanted to speak to her but he was uncertain of what to say. As he watched her, he noticed she was glancing his way. A small smile crept onto his lips as he realized that she was looking his way. He felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of hope and nervousness. He took a deep breath, summoning his courage, and finally stepped forward.

As he approached, he could feel her eyes on him, studying him. He tried to act casually, his hands still in his pockets, but he couldn’t help the way his heart was racing. He cleared his throat, “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

Y/n turned her attention away from her co-drivers and looked at Franco, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, what do you want?”

Franco swallowed hard, trying to ignore the coolness in her voice. He took a step closer, not caring that they had an audience, “Can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

Y/n nodded, gesturing for him to follow her out of the garage. Once they were alone in a secluded area, she turned to him with her arms crossed. “What's on your mind, kidz bop?”

Franco took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nickname. He knew it was her way of keeping him at arm’s length, but it stung nonetheless. He looked into her eyes, gathering his courage. “I wanted to talk to you about us…”

Y/n’s expression remained neutral, but he could see a flicker of something in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, “What about us?”

Franco rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “Well, I just wanted to know…if there’s ever a chance for us?”

Y/n let out a snort, “A chance? Kidz bop, you’re way too young for me. You need to find someone your age.” Franco's heart sank at her words, but he tried to hide his disappointment. “I don’t care about age. I just want to be with you.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, very romantic. But I’m not interested in dating some kid who still has a curfew. I need someone more mature.” Franco clenched his fists in frustration, “I’m not a kid. I’m just as mature as any other driver out there.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, sure you are. I bet you still have a teddy bear in your bed and your mom still picks out your outfits.” Franco's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he tried to maintain his composure. He couldn’t deny that he had a teddy bear, but he certainly hadn’t asked his mom for fashion advice since he was 12.

“I’m a grown man,” he protested, “Just because I’m a rookie doesn’t mean I’m immature.” Y/n leaned against the wall, still looking unimpressed. “Oh? Prove it then, Teeny Bopper. Show me how mature you are.”

Franco was determined to show her that he wasn’t just some naïve rookie. He took a step closer to her, his heart pounding. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden confidence. “Alright, I’m listening. Go ahead and impress me, rug rat.” Franco took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He was suddenly keenly aware of how close they were standing to each other. He could smell her perfume, a soft, musky scent that made his head spin.

He looked into her eyes, unflinching. “I’ll prove it by showing you that I’m serious about this. I’m not just some kid who doesn’t know what he wants. I know what I want, and it’s you.” Y/n’s expression softened just a bit. She was impressed by his directness, but still unconvinced. “You’re young, Franco. You don’t know what you want. You just think you do.”

Franco took another step closer to her. “I may be young, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m done with being treated like a kid. I know what I want, and I’m not going to give up until I get it.” Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his words, but she tried to maintain her cool facade. “You’re not going to give up, huh? You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

Franco smirked, feeling a rush of confidence. “I can be when I want something. And I want you.”

He took another step forward, closing the gap between them. He was now standing so close to her that he could feel the heat of her body. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as he stepped closer. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and she had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. But she held her ground, refusing to let him see how her resolve was starting to crumble.

“You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into, kidz bop,” she teased, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice just before she walked away from him. Franco watched her walk away, a mix of frustration and determination coursing through his veins. He knew he had gotten to her this time, he had seen the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

He wasn’t going to give up, not until he had proven to her that he was serious. He was in love with her, and he wasn’t going to let her brush him off like some naive rookie.

Once again Franco found himself watching and observing y/n and this time was brought out of his thoughts by a large hand clapping him on the shoulder “You good there Franco?” Charles asked. Franco looked over at him and then back at y/n whose eyebrows were bunched up together and her lips in a thin tight line.

“Yeah I’m good,” Franco answered, looking down at his feet. Charles chuckled at Franco’s obvious lie. He followed Franco’s gaze to y/n, his smirk growing even more as he looked at her. “You have it bad don’t you?” Charles teased. Franco quickly shoved Charles’s arm off him as he gave him a nasty glare.

Charles cackled in response. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. How long are you gonna sit on your ass and not do something?” Charles said.

“There’s a reason why I haven’t,” Franco said, still stubbornly keeping his eyes on y/n.

“Which is?” Charles prompted.

“She’s too old for me,” Franco said. Charles’s jaw dropped.

“Bullshit! She’s what, 26? You’re 21! It’s not that big of an age difference, "he said.

“She thinks it is,” Franco said. Charles shook his head in disbelief at Franco’s stupidity.

“Goddamnit Franco. You’re a pretty handsome kid, why are you letting her have that much control over you? If you feel something for her then do something about it” Charles said.

Franco tore his eyes from y/n to look at Charles “There is something between us. But every time I try to talk to her about it, she shuts it down. Says that she’s too old for me and would rather I find someone my age” he confessed. Charles let out a scoff “She doesn’t mean it. She’s just running away because she doesn’t want to admit her feelings for you” he said.

Franco shook his head. “You don’t know that and besides she’s mean to me and she calls me kidz bop, teeny bopper, or rug rat.”

Charles rolled his eyes “Franco I’ve known y/n for much longer than you being mean to someone is her love language trust me the meaner she is to someone the more she cares for them. She calls me a pretty boy. She calls Fernando an old man. I've seen the way she looks at you. There’s no way she feels nothing.” Franco’s heart skipped a beat at Charles’s words.

“W-what do you mean ‘the way she looks at me’” he asked.

Charles smirked again “I mean you’re constantly in her line of sight whenever you’re in a room. Anytime she’s near you, she always seems to be hyper-aware of it. I don’t think she’s as immune to your charms as she makes herself seem.”

As much as Franco wanted to believe what Charles was telling him it was too hard. He’s seen the way y/n talks to the other drivers. They weren’t like that.

“I get that your old ass has much more relationship experience than I do. But you just don’t understand” Franco muttered, refusing to look at Charles. Charles shook his head at Franco “You’re a lot denser than I thought you were. If you’re gonna waste your opportunity with her then that’s your problem, not mine” he said before he sauntered off, leaving Franco by himself.

Franco stood there, his mind reeling from Charles's words. He couldn't shake the feeling that Charles was right about y/n. That she had feelings for him beneath all her harsh words and belittling nicknames. But he couldn't be sure.

Franco looked over to where y/n was still standing, her expression still tight and cold. He tried to muster up the courage to approach her again, but he couldn’t find the words. He was too overwhelmed by the possibility that she could feel something for him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever rejection came his way. Franco began to slowly make his way toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. With each step, he felt as though he was walking through mud, his legs refusing to cooperate.

Finally, he stood in front of her, his eyes locked on hers. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice much softer than he had intended.

She looked up at him, her eyes flickering with an unreadable expression. For a moment, he thought she was going to brush him off like she had so many times before.

“Fine. What do you want?” she asked, her voice as icy as ever. Franco swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. He had practiced all the things he wanted to say in his head, but now that he was standing in front of her, all of his words seemed to have vanished.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I just wanted to talk to you about us." "I know we're colleagues, but there's something more there, isn't there?" he said, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

She paused for a moment, her expression faltering for just a split second before her walls went back up. "Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked, feigning indifference. Franco took a small step forward, closing the space between them. He could feel the heat radiating off of her body, making him heady with desire.

"The way you look at me. The way you always watch me. I know you feel it too. You're just too scared to admit it." Her breath caught in her throat as he neared. She tried to pretend that his words did not affect her, but he could see the subtle change in her breathing, the way her body seemed to gravitate towards him.

"Scared? I'm not scared of anything, least of all you," she retorted, hoping he didn't notice the waver in her voice. "Then prove it," he said, his voice suddenly low and intense. He was so close to her now that he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her pulse fluttered in her neck.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against the softness of her skin. Her breath hitched at his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. She fought the urge to lean into his touch, to finally give in to the overwhelming amount of tension that hung in the air between them. But she forced herself to take a step back, pulling herself out of his reach. "I don't have anything to prove to you," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Franco couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that shot through him as she pulled away. He knew he was getting under her skin, but she was still fighting him.

But he had a card he hadn't played yet.

“Then why is this so hard?” he asked, his tone soft and gentle. “If we're just colleagues, then it should be easy for you to turn me down. Right?”

Inwardly, she was cursing his stubbornness. But he was right, and she was losing the battle with herself. She had been trying so hard to keep her feelings locked away, to deny the attraction that was growing hotter and hotter each day.

She tried to come up with a witty retort, but her throat was dry, and her mind was fuzzy. The way he was looking at her, the way he was so sure of himself, it was chipping away at her defenses. He took another step closer, closing the gap between them again. “Come on, admit it. This isn’t just some one-sided thing. You feel it too.”

She could feel his breath on her skin, the heat of his body so close to hers. She thought about denying it, pushing him away once more, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she did the one thing she had promised herself she wouldn’t do.

She melted.

It was as if all the tension and resistance she had built up just disappeared. She found herself leaning into him, her body drawn to his like a magnet.

She looked up at him, her eyes betraying the vulnerability and desire that she had tried so hard to hide. "Franco..." she whispered. The sound of his name on her lips sent a jolt of electricity through his body. He could see the change in her eyes, the way they darkened with emotion.

He moved closer to her, his arms closing around her waist, pulling her against him. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from her ear. "Say it. Say you want me." The heat of his body against hers combined with the huskiness of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, her body molding itself to his.

She took a shaky breath, her voice wavering. "I want you, Franco. Damn it, I want you." A rush of satisfaction and relief washed over him as he heard her words. He’d finally broken through her defenses, and now he had her exactly where he wanted her.

He pulled her even closer, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt, his fingers tracing the bare skin of her back.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that," he murmured against her neck. She let out a soft gasp as he touched her skin, her body arching into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair.

She had tried to deny it for so long, but now that she had finally given in, it was like an unstoppable force of nature. All she wanted was to be closer to him, to feel him completely. He claimed her mouth in a deep, searing kiss, his body pressing her against the wall. His hands roamed over her skin, exploring every curve and contour of her body. It felt like a dam had broken, and all the pent-up desire that had been building between them was suddenly unleashed.

She returned his kiss with equal fervor, her tongue tangling with his. She ran her hands along his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt.

She wanted more, so much more. She was drowning in the sensation of him, losing herself in the heat and the passion of their embrace. Franco pressed himself against her, trapping her between the wall and his body. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin.

He could feel her coming undone, her body growing more and more pliant against his. He could tell that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and it was driving him insane. She let out a desperate gasp as he found a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ear, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly. She couldn't think straight, her mind fuzzy with desire. The only thing that existed at that moment was the feel of his body against hers, the taste of his skin, and the way his hands sent sparks of pleasure dancing over her skin.

He continued to explore her body, his hands drifting down her sides, his fingertips tracing the edge of her waistband. He dipped his head lower, his lips trailing along her collarbone, then down her chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses on her skin. She whimpered and shivered beneath his touch, her body becoming a raw nerve of sensation. Her hips rocked against his, seeking more contact, more friction. She felt like she was on fire, burning up from the inside out.

He could feel her body reacting to his every touch, the way her hips moved against his, the way her hands clutched at his hair, pulling him closer. He could hear the soft gasps and moans escaping her lips, the sound sending a flood of heat straight to his core.

He pulled away just long enough to look at her, his eyes dark and intense.

“God, I love it when you make those sounds,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The desire in his gaze, the rough rasp of his voice, it was too much for her. She reached up and pulled him back down to her, her lips crashing against his in a fierce kiss.

Her body was overwhelmed by the intensity of her desire for him, the need for him almost unbearable. He met her kiss with urgency, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her completely. He pressed himself against her, his body fitting perfectly against hers.

He let his hands slide down to her thighs, lifting her so her legs wrapped around his waist, pinning her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him, her body flush against his. She could feel every muscle, every contour, every inch of him. She couldn't get enough, she wanted to be even closer.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him tight against her, her tongue exploring his mouth with feverish desperation. He pressed himself harder against her, his body desperate to get even closer to hers. He let his hands slide up to her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to mark her as his. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck to him, her body arching into his touch. A soft moan escaped her lips as he licked and sucked at her skin, his stubble sending sparks of pleasure dancing across her nerve endings. He found a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear, and he lingered there, his lips and tongue working her into a frenzy. He could feel her responding to his touch, her body trembling against his, moans and gasps escaping from her lips.

He nipped and sucked at her skin, leaving a trail of red marks down her neck and collarbone. She was completely undone, her mind consumed with nothing but him and the pleasure he was causing her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body writhing against his.

Each flick of his tongue and each press of his lips sent shockwaves of ecstasy through her body, stoking the fire that burned within her. He pulled back slightly, taking in the sight of her - flushed and breathless, completely at his mercy. He wanted to claim her completely, to make her his in every way possible.

He lowered her down just a little bit, his body still pressed close to hers, and he looked into her eyes, his gaze intense and hungry. She gazed up at him, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. Her hair was tousled, and her shirt wrinkled where his hands had been. She looked wrecked already and they'd barely even started.

She met his gaze, her own just as hungry and intense. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, and nothing was going to stop them now.

[rosemariiaa]

~Echoes Of You~

pairing- Paige x Azzi

a/n: cute little song fic because we all missed those, and yes i have delivered fluff 💌

song: Pink in the Night - my love Mitski

theme- fluff

Enjoy!!!

Paige can’t sleep again.

She lies in her bed, staring at the ceiling as the pink glow of her nightlight washes over the room. It’s late, probably too late to still be awake, but she’s not in the mood to close her eyes. Not when her mind’s too full of her. She bites her lip, annoyed with herself, the way her thoughts keep circling back to Azzi. It’s been happening more often lately, and she hates it.

“I glow pink in the night in my room,”

Paige thinks, frustrated. It’s stupid how much she’s let this feeling grow—like she’s been blossoming alone over someone she shouldn’t even be thinking about. They’re teammates, just friends. Paige had drawn the line a long time ago, but somehow, Azzi had crossed it without even knowing.

“And I hear my heart breaking tonight.”

She shifts on her bed, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest. The silence in the room makes it worse. Her heart beats so loud, she swears she can hear it cracking. “Do you hear it too?” Of course, Azzi can’t hear it. She’s probably fast asleep in her own room, not knowing that Paige is losing sleep over her. God, this is so stupid.

Paige gets up, hoping to clear her head. She pads down the hallway, not bothering to turn on the lights. When she reaches the living room, she freezes.

Azzi is already there.

Sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up, Azzi’s face is illuminated by the soft glow of the TV screen, but the sound is muted. It’s almost eerie, seeing her there like this, alone and silent. Paige’s breath catches in her throat. She should turn back. She should leave.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she stands awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to say or do. Azzi notices her after a moment, turning her head slightly. “Couldn’t sleep either?” she asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige shrugs, her body tense. “Yeah. Something like that.”

The silence stretches between them, heavy with everything unsaid. Paige moves to sit on the other side of the couch, careful to keep her distance. But it doesn’t matter. Azzi’s presence is enough to make her chest tighten. It’s stupid, but she wants to reach out, to close the gap, to say something that would break this unbearable tension. She doesn’t.

Instead, she just watches Azzi, stealing glances when she thinks she won’t notice.

“I could stare at your back all day.”

The thought hits Paige out of nowhere, and she has to bite her tongue to keep from saying it out loud. Azzi’s back is turned slightly, her posture relaxed in a way that makes Paige feel anything but calm. There’s something about the way Azzi carries herself that drives her crazy—not in an obvious, in-your-face way, but in the subtle things. The way her curls fall over her shoulders, the way her lips twitch when she’s deep in thought. Paige feels like an idiot for noticing these things.

Azzi shifts, turning to face her fully now, and Paige’s eyes snap away like she’s been caught. “You okay?” Azzi’s voice is soft, but there’s something in her tone that makes Paige’s stomach churn. It’s like she knows. Or maybe Paige is just paranoid.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Paige lies. She’s not fine. She hasn’t been fine in weeks, but she’s not about to admit that, especially not to Azzi.

They sit in silence for what feels like forever, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. Paige’s mind keeps replaying the same memories over and over again. That one night, 2 years ago at Azzi’s grandparents lake. The way Azzi had looked at her, how close they’d been. They’d kissed, but it hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t felt right.

“I know I’ve kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right.”

She wonders if Azzi remembers it too, or if it was just another fleeting moment for her. Paige curses herself for not doing more, for not saying what she really wanted to say back then. She swallows hard, the words lodged in her throat.

“Paige…” Azzi’s voice pulls her back to the present, and there’s something different in it now—something hesitant. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Paige freezes. Her mind blanks for a second, panic setting in. Has she been that obvious? She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Azzi’s eyes are on her, waiting for an answer, and Paige feels like she’s suffocating under the weight of it all.

“I… I don’t know,” Paige finally manages to say, but it’s a weak excuse, and she knows it.

Azzi shifts closer, her gaze never leaving Paige’s face. “That’s not true,” she whispers. “You know exactly why.”

“And I hear my heart breaking tonight.”

Paige’s heart is pounding now, louder than ever. She wants to deny it, to brush it off, but the look in Azzi’s eyes stops her cold. There’s no more hiding. No more pretending.

Without thinking, Paige reaches out, her hand brushing Azzi’s cheek. The touch is hesitant, unsure, but when Azzi leans into it, Paige feels a surge of emotion she can’t control. “I’m sorry,” Paige whispers, her voice breaking. “I didn’t do it right before. Can I… can I try again?”

Azzi’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she nods, her eyes softening. Paige leans in slowly, her heart racing, but this time, when their lips meet, it feels right. It feels like everything she’s been wanting to say but couldn’t. The kiss is soft, slow, filled with all the things they never said.

When they finally pull apart, Azzi rests her forehead against Paige’s. “We’ll get it right this time,” Azzi whispers.

“Try again, and again, and again.”

They don’t need to say anything else. The silence between them feels different now—lighter, filled with possibility. Paige knows they’ll keep trying, keep figuring it out together. And this time, they won’t be alone.

[holylulusworld]

Sewer rat (2)

Summary: He broke your heart. Now he must pay for it.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Mobster!Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, scared reader, Bucky is scary as shit, mentions of a breakup

Sewer Rat (1)

Sewer rat masterlist

Prey. That’s what you are to James Buchanan Barnes. Well, at least you’re not a sewer rat to him. As long as your information is useful to him, you’re safe.

For how long, you don’t know. He’s, just like Tony, a cold-hearted man unable to feel compassion or love. Sadly, you realized too late that Tony Stark could never love you.

“Let me get this straight. Tony threw you out with nothing but a towel. Still, you got this.” Bucky holds up the little black book. “How did you manage to steal his black book in only a towel?”

“My bathrobe,” your voice cracks, and you drop your gaze. “Did you not wonder why I fought tooth and nail to get my bathrobe, not a pretty dress or at least shoes?” You lift your head to look Bucky straight in the eyes. “The moment Tony Stark stepped into my life, I knew it was too good to be true. Whirlwind romances and men fulfilling your every wish always come with a catch.”

“You hid the black book in the bathrobe, didn’t you?” Steve smirks. He’s impressed you thought about hiding something so valuable for hard times.

“In the first months, I was on cloud number nine, but the façade crumbled. I slowly realized that Tony is not the man he loves to pretend he is. I didn’t think he’d treat me like he did last night.”

“How did you get your hands on his black book?” Bucky is still not convinced you are telling the truth.

“He’s sleepy after—” You bite your tongue and look away. “You know, sex. I couldn’t sleep and got up to get some water. I saw his little black book and phone lying abandoned on the kitchen counter. He was so eager to fuck me in the kitchen, he forgot about it.”

Bucky clears his throat. He shudders; imagining Tony and you going at it is the last thing he wants to think about. “Go ahead, tell us everything.”

“I knew Tony had lots of these black books. He uses them for notes. I sneaked into his office and stole a new one,” you lick your lips as Bucky opens the black book to check on the first names. “That night, I copied the book, writing every contact and code word down. When I came back to the bedroom, Tony was awake. I didn’t get the chance to hide the book somewhere else but in the pocket of my bathrobe.”

“Smart girl,” Steve praises. “This probably saved your life. We are not the kind of people protecting others for free.”

“I know,” you wrinkle your nose. “If you’re not useful, you can rot in hell.” You chuckle humorlessly. “I’m not delusional nor blinded by my undying love for Tony. He showed his true colors, and all I got left is the little book in your hands and all the things I memorized to help you bring his business down.”

“I will check on the information. If you tried to trick me, the things Tony said and did to you will be a pleasant memory.” Bucky’s features darken for a moment. “Steve, ensure she gets food and show her the way to the guestroom.”

“Please come with me.” Steve holds his hand for you. You look at his large hand but refuse to take it. So far, they haven’t proven to be better than Tony. “Alright.” Steve shows his palms. “You don’t trust me. That’s fair. We don’t trust you either.”

Slowly getting up, take a deep breath. Bucky is still reading the names in the little black book. You only hope he won’t betray you too after you hand the only leverage you hold over Tony.

���The information is gold,” Jake grins while explaining every little detail he found out about the people on Tony Stark’s payroll. “He pays cops, politicians, civil servants, and prostitutes,” he laughs. “Man, even taxi driver. That man seems to be obsessed with staying informed.”

“We will start with the less powerful people. The taxi driver he pays,” Bucky points at a name in the black book. “We will talk to him first. Make sure he knows if he fucks with me, he’ll die.”

“Got it, boss,” Rumlow hums. “Do you want him in one piece, or can I rough him up a little?” He smirks at Bucky.

“We don’t want him to shit his pants yet. Bucky wants to talk to him, not scare the shit out of him. Maybe it’s enough to offer more money than Stark to him,” Steve huffs when Rumlow gets a knife out, grinning. “No violence before we tell you so.”

You’re starving. Until now, you didn’t know you were hungry. It’s been hours since Tony kicked you out of his house and life. It feels odd to give in to a primal need while your heart still lies in shambles, shattered on the ground.

“Good, isn’t it?” Bucky sits down on a chair at the kitchen counter next to you. He looks at the sandwich his cook made for you. “I hope they made something you’ll like for you.”

“I’m not picky,” you murmur before taking another bite. Bucky’s presence in the kitchen can mean two things. Your information is valuable to him, or he wants to kick you out too.

“You know,” he leans closer to steal a pickle from your plate. “I saw you at one of his parties a few months back. You helped a waitress pick up glasses after another guest bumped into her. I knew that you were different at that moment.”

“People are rude; the world too. This doesn’t mean I have to be rude too,” you sniff. “Maybe when it comes to Stark. He deserves to catch hell.”

“That guy,” Bucky steals another pickle from your plate. “Your friend. Do you think he was involved in this shitshow? I mean, he comes back to town to marry and wants to meet up with you out of a sudden.”

“If you already know all the answers, why ask questions?” You muse. “I guess he was paid to get me in trouble. I just don’t know who is behind this conspiracy and why anyone wanted Tony and me apart.”

“We will find out,” he says, eyeing the second half of your sandwich. “Your information was correct. So far. We will see if you are as valuable as you believe you are.”

“I’m not, but this,” you tip your forehead. “I memorized every shady deal and name. Whatever you want to know about his organization.”

“Jake, my smart little tech nerd, is working on finding out more about your friend and his involvement in all of this. If you are helping me, I’m helping you.”

“Quit pro quo, Mr. Barnes,” you reply, and hold out your hand.

“Quit pro quo, doll,” he says, and grabs your hand, making you squeak. "But,” he leans closer to whisper in your ear, “if you try to trick me or fuck me over, you’ll end up six feet under.”

Tags in reblog.

[r6eduss]

I really wish you’d make up your mind.

•Summary: Daryl comes over for a smoke, who knew things would get so deep? (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Drug use, a teeny tiny bit suggestive but no smut, mentions of abuse, Stoner!Reader, Angst.

•Word Count: 2.3k.

•Setting: The Commonwealth

•A/N: Heavily inspired by Kimdracula by deftones. I have always thought Daryl is deathly afraid of labels on relationships, so here’s me implementing that into my writing. I love writing for the commonwealth era also let’s also pretend deftones lines up with twd timeline 🫢

Tension.

Tension was always the main thing between you and Daryl. For the longest time since the farm, you two have had something—something that can’t be explained by just simple words.

The both of you have kissed before, but for some reason never have said anything of it. Most people thought you two were a couple, but you don’t know what you two are. one thing for sure, is that you love each other. Platonic or not, you both have always stuck out for each other and world knows Daryl would fight to the ends of the earth to keep you and the rest of his family alive and safe.

Though right now, you haven’t seen much of Daryl, and that’s surprising considering he was your neighbor. Everyone from Alexandria have still been settling in, and he’s been incredibly busy, so have you with your new job settlement.

Suddenly being employed in the apocalypse definitely left you stoked, but you kind of enjoyed it unlike Daryl and the others. It was a bittersweet feeling, left you thinking maybe the world still does have a chance.

With some of the hard earned money that you managed to work up, you decided to head to town looking for music. It’s always been a huge comfort for you, helping you overcome challenges you had to face even before the fall, and you hoped maybe they had some of your favorite albums. Your eyes were set on the storefront at the end of the block, and you soon approached. A sign hung above it, faded but clear. “The Record Shop” and a faint sound of music leaked through the door. On entering, hearing the door chime you’re greeted with a familiar face.

“Welcome!- Oh shit hey!” It was Princess’ shift today, and honestly it was rather refreshing to see her face, you haven’t seen really anybody else you had known.

Looking around for a moment, you take in the decorations. You soon face Princess, giving her a warm smile.

“Hey! How have you been?”

“It’s been great! It’s been great.. How about you?” She responded, excited to be speaking with you.

“I’ve been good! I’m glad things are going well for you Princess.” You were kind of lying, things weren’t really good for you.. it’s been hard adjusting to this kind of life, you’ve always felt as if the apocalypse saved you in a way.

“I’m happy for you dude! Well did you come here to buy something?”

“Yeah actually, do you guys have deftones?” You were hoping to god they did. You were in such a need to listen to your favorite album, and the last time you did was years ago.

You can see her lips curve into a small smirk, as she points to the left. “Yep! All the way to the last aisle on the left.”

You’ve never felt as happy as you felt now.

“Thanks!” You quickly pick up your feet, rushing to the aisle that Princess pointed to. Upon arrival, you quickly scan the area in attempts to find your favorite album “Saturday Night Wrist”.

All you could spot was Around the Fur and White pony as you sifted through the records, fingers brushing against the glossy covers, the album you were looking for nowhere in sight. To be honest, you were a little disappointed, until you spot that beautiful untouched record hidden behind one of the Metallica covers right next to the ones you were looking through. It was very obviously the last one in stock.

You bit your lip while smirking in happiness, grabbing the album and basking in it, the cover still haunting and beautiful just as you remembered. After about 30 seconds of reminiscing, you head to the checkout where Princess was.

“That all?”

“Yep!”

“That’s 30!”

You hand her a 20 and a 10, and she proceeds to print out your receipt. “It was so good seeing you! And hey, don’t be a stranger!” She hands you what you came there for, and waves you off with a grin. You politely tell her goodnight and make your way to your apartment.

A few days ago you had asked Daryl and Judith if you could borrow that record player he had bought for her, since you were planning on buying some music. Of course they agreed, so you knew exactly what you were doing when you got home.

Just as you got to your destination, you spotted Daryl walking up to his own apartment, quickly taking notice of you. “Hey Daryl.” You already felt a bit tense, Daryl looked incredibly exhausted.

“Hey.”

Well this was kind of awkward, you greeted him but didn’t really know how to continue the conversation, until an idea sprang through you. “I uh, finally bought some music. Wanna join me in listening and have a smoke?” He seems like he could use a get away, and you have just the remedies to relax him.

You watched as he looks down at the floor, biting the inside of his lip before responding while slightly nodding his head. “Yea, Yea sure. Ya stayin’ up?” He started to swirl his thumbs together, you always thought it was really cute when he did that.

“Yeah, for a bit. C’mon I’m so excited to unwrap this.” You used your key to unlock your apartment door and enter, leaving the door open for Daryl as he quickly proceeds behind you.

He closes the door behind you both, locking it and following you to your room. It was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of candles around. “Hold this.” You hand Daryl the vinyl, before walking over to your drawer, pulling out rolling paper, an herb grinder, a lighter, and some weed. “Sorry, give me a second to do this, then we can put the album on the record player.” He nods, and goes to sit down on the corner of your neatly folded bed.

You go about crushing the marijuana, feeling the uncomfortableness of the situation seep into you. You and Daryl haven’t seen each other in weeks, now all of a sudden you invited him in for a smoke?

The silence starts becoming painfully sharp, so you begin at your poor attempts at starting conversation. “So how have you been settling in?” He looks up, staring at your figure then at your face, watching your movements as you proceed to add the cannabis onto the rolling paper. “I’ve been ‘Ight.” Wow. Was he normally this bland?

“Hm, that’s good. How are the kids?” Please Daryl, give a response that you can actually open a conversation to.. “They been good. Judith is doin’ better than her whole class.”

Finally, something worth answering. Your heart warms up for a moment, remembering that the kids are finally getting a real experience of what school is. You and Daryl are both incredibly thankful that the children are going to have a chance at a semi normal childhood.

“I’m not surprised at all.. Judith is so smart.” You finished up rolling the joint, sealing it with a lick. You turn to face the man you’ve grown to love, passing it to him while taking the record out of his hands, pulling out the vinyl from its frame and heading to where the record player is. This entire situation has got you feeling excited, being able to finally listen to one thing you missed before the dead rose, and doing it with your favorite person. You carefully place it onto the record player, moving the tonearm and playing it.

The first song that played was Hole in the Earth, and it gave you a type of skin crawling sensation that you just couldn’t explain.

Turning to Daryl, you take back the joint and light it. If you weren’t so focused on what you were doing, you would’ve noticed how he was staring at you, admiring everything you were doing, noticing how you felt when the music started playing, and being so entranced with how your hips swayed.

You took your first hit, soon after passing it to Daryl so he can also take a draw. He grabs the joint but he doesn’t bring it to his lips right away. He keeps his gaze on your face, looking you over before taking a deep inhale. He lets the smoke slowly spill from his mouth, while carefully making sure to blow it away from you. He passes it back to you, still maintaining eye contact. The tension was overbearing, and by the way he was looking at you, it was almost impossible not to feel flutters in your stomach.

The slow, moody guitar riff filling the space between you both accompanied with the scent of burning sage lingering in the air mixing with the sharp tang of weed, was making the tension rise all the more. You took a slow drag from the joint, eyes never leaving his, exhaling lazily and letting the smoke swirl between the two of you.

“You okay?” You ask, your voice light and teasing, catching the twitch of nerves in him. Daryl gave a small grunt, nodding and shifting his weight, his gaze flickering between your lips and the joint. He wasn’t used to moments like this—quiet, intimate.

You smiled gently, a little sly, while slowly leaning closer, feeling buzzed while the drug does its job. “Wanna shotgun it?”

Daryl swallowed hard. He wasn’t expecting something so bold, it’s not like you. But the idea of your lips so close, sharing the smoke between you, sent a ripple of emotion through him. So he gave you a nod, wanting more of this confident side of you.

You took another slow hit, eyes smoldering as you leaned in, lips barely parting. “Come here.” You whispered.

Daryl hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning forward, feeling the heat of your breath as you exhaled into his mouth, smoke filling his lungs. All he could focus on was how close you were, the smell of your hair, and how beautiful you looked.

Before either of you could stop, the moment stretched, and your lips hovered near his. There was a beat, then two, before instinct took over. You closed the gap, pressing your mouth softly against his. Daryl was left caught off guard, still kissing you back.

The music throbbed around you as the kiss deepened, a mixture of nerves and heat rising. The joint, forgotten and placed onto the ashtray as Daryl’s hand found its way on your back, pulling you closer.

The kiss lingered longer than either of you expected. Your lips were soft and tasted of marijuana. He found himself sinking into the warmth of the moment, the aroma that had been hanging between you dissolving into something he wasn’t sure how to handle. His hands, rough and scarred, tightened around your waist, but there was a gentleness in the way he held you that surprised even him.

You kissed him slowly, as if you had all the time in the world, and Daryl could feel something stir inside him, something unfamiliar, almost unsettling. It wasn’t the impulsive thrill of survival, or the adrenaline of his attempts to protect himself from his father, it was something softer. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of the warmth spreading through his chest, the vulnerability.

You pulled back just a little, breath still warm on his lips, and your forehead resting lightly against his. You smiled, eyes searching his to try and figure him out.

Suddenly, it hit him.

He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t built for it. The closeness, the intimacy, the unspoken understanding in the way you looked at him. He was a man of instinct, not one for quiet moments that left him raw and uncertain. He wasn’t sure what he expected when your lips first met, but this— whatever this was, was way more than he could handle.

Daryl blinked, pulling back a few inches, breaking the connection between you. His hand, still on your waist, fell away, as if it had become too heavy to hold them there any longer.

“I— I cant.” He muttered, the words rough, barely forming in his throat. He stood up abruptly, moving his wavy locs from his face, stepping back as if the space between you could somehow shield him from the feelings creeping up inside him.

You looked up at him, confused. “What are we Daryl?” He can’t just kiss you then walk away? What was this?

“I don’t know.” He responded low, looking at the ground, anywhere but your face. You could hear your favorite song begin to play on the record player, this is not how you would’ve wanted to enjoy it for the first time in years.

“I should get goin’” he mumbled, already heading for the door.

You didn’t stop him, instead, feeling the tears swell up in your eyes, you responded with a simple “okay”.

He paused at the door, his hand resting at the handle. He could hear the sadness in your voice, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. If he did, he might see something in your eyes that would make it even harder to walk away.

“I’ll see ya ‘round,” he muttered, before leaving your room and heading for your front door, exiting your apartment. You began to cry, feeling confused and angry, sitting alone in your room listening to your song, comforting you, just like it did before the fall. As Daryl was still processing it all, the night air hit him, clearing his mind a bit but not enough to shake this unfamiliar weight in his chest.

He wasn’t sure what had just happened, all he knew was that it was too much, too real, and it scared him. He wasn’t the type to let anyone in, and yet, in that small dim lit room, he had felt something that had shook him to his core.

But for now, he pushed it down, like he always did, and walked away.

@vampiresluv

[fuctacles]

Just like Cinderella

happy bday to my Prince Charming @blasvemous M | 3.3k | crack treated seriously, meet cuteugly something, idiot4idiot, humiliation kink mentioned | Ao3

"Shit, fuck!" Steve lets himself have one last glance at his wristwatch, and of course, it instantly proves to be a mistake. 

He runs straight into someone's back, and it punches all the air out of his lungs. He's stunned for a second, and can barely hear a rushed apology. He thinks he mutters back 'No, it was my fault', and by the time he blinks back into reality and crouches to pick up his bag, the guy is gone. 

But not all of him. 

On the pavement, right under his bag, he finds a... something.

It's made of metal and intricate, and not his. He picks it up and straightens up quickly, in hopes of seeing the guy he ran into. There are a lot of people rushing about, though.

"Hey!" He picks up his pace again, hoping to spot the person he ran into. He remembers long hair and a mix of citrusy shampoo and cigarette smell. Not much else. Nobody turns their head as he runs through the morning crowd, so he stuffs the item deep into his bag and focuses on the initial goal of rushing to work. He can worry about this all later. 

On his break, he takes the thing out of his bag to take a better look. It looks well-made and could be expensive, but he has no idea what it could be. It reminds him of old egg beaters, but he doubts that's what it is. Maybe a toy? One of these educational puzzles for nerds, like a Rubik's cube? Or! It could be a replica of some sci-fi movie gadget. Like the sonic screwdriver that Dustin made.

He probably should just ask around. 

His usual go-to, the self-titled oracle and part-time scholar Robin Buckley, had no better ideas than him. She turned the thing in her fingers, cradling it delicately like an eggshell, while humming and hemming. 

"Looks like a tiny brace. Maybe for a york's paw? The guy could be a vet," she offers. 

"Maybe," Steve nods, not convinced at all. He doesn't want to think about a little dog with a broken paw somewhere out there, its bones unprotected. "I was thinking it could be a kitchen utensil?"

Robin puts it on the desk between them and stares at it intently. 

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Steve shrugs, embarrassed to share his idea. "Like an egg beater?"

Robin continues her loud thinking but in the end, leaves him with nothing. 

The thing weighs him down on his daily commute, waiting in the bottom of his bag for the day he finds its owner. Steve isn't even sure if he would recognize him. Them? After a week he wasn't even sure it was a guy. 

The workload doesn't give him a break either, and once Friday finally arrives, he makes a detour on his route home to grab a drink or two. After his first drink, he checks for any loose change he could put in the tip jar and his hand finds the Thing. He pulls it out with a sigh and puts on the bartop with a small clunk. As he reaches out to put what he's found in the jar, he hears a very concerning and loud choking sound. 

To his right, a long-haired guy is wheezing his lungs out, fist-punching his own sternum. Steve immediately leans over the empty stool between them and starts smacking his back to help.

"Jesus, you alright? Went down the wrong pipe?" He looks around the man, but all he sees is a glass of beer, so hopefully he didn't get a peanut lodged in his windpipe. 

The man lets out a really gross phlegmy cough, clears his throat, and takes a shuddering breath.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he wheezes out. "Just, uh, you know. Didn't expect to just turn around and see, uh, that." He spares a tiny glance at the Thing in front of Steve. 

Steve immediately brightens up, hoping to finally get an answer to his predicament. He swiftly moves to the empty seat, drink and Thing sliding along the bar with him. He sees the man wince while he's still facing forward like he's afraid to take a proper look. He takes a drink of his beer, this time slow and cautious, and Steve can see the redness spreading from his cheeks down his throat.

"You know what it is?" Steve asks hopefully, leaning closer to him. 

The man freezes, and maybe it wasn't in his best manners to just sit down next to someone without asking, but it's already happened and Steve is kind of desperate. 

He gulps down the beer, no accidents this time, but his voice is still strained, when he asks incredulously:

"You don't?! No, you know, that actually explains it. Take them damn thing off the bar for the love of Merlin."

Steve, while taken aback by the sudden shift and being ordered around by a stranger, stuffs the Thing away from peering eyes. 

"Why? What is it? Something illegal?" Fuck, why didn't he think about that? 

But the man is shaking his head.

"No, but I'm pretty sure the bartender wouldn't appreciate it."

"What is it?" Steve presses on.

The guy finally turns to him and Steve can see him in all his glory. Black leather, long hair, and a pair of truly soft brown eyes that don't match his overall vibe at all. And they stare right at him like they are trying to look straight into his soul. He's searching for something for a long, drawn-out moment, before he deflates, eyes skirting away, but he keeps facing Steve. 

"Really?" he mutters, mostly to himself. "It's a fucking cock cage, man."

"A fucking cock what?" Steve asks once he gets his voice back.

"You heard me. I'm not repeating myself," he says with a scoff, eyes falling to Steve's bag. His knee starts jumping up and down restlessly. "Where did you find it?"

But Steve had questions of his own.

"Is it like, a medical thing?" he asks. 

The looks he gets back would make him believe an alien just popped out of his forehead and started dancing Macarena. He frowns defensively.

"What? I've never seen something like this!" 

"It's a sex thing," the man responds mercifully, watching him closely. 

Now it's Steve's turn to gauge his eyes at the man. He looks briefly down at his bag like the thing could just grow tentacles and have its way with him. 

"How? Why?" he asks, mouth twisting at the images flashing in his mind. "How do you know that?"

The knee never stops jumping. If anything, it becomes more erratic. 

"Uh, I know guys who are into it." The man looks away again. 

Steve rolls his eyes. Sure. He knows a guy.

"So since you know some guys," he plays along. "Maybe they know more guys and they could ask around if anyone has lost one of these?" he suggests. "Now I want it off my hands even more."

The man scoffs, almost amused. 

"Could imagine. I could take it from you and just hand it over to them, make things easier for you," he offers, glances at him, and then shrugs.

Steve recoils at the idea.

"That? No, It's my fault the guy lost it, I wasn't looking and ran into him. I need to make sure it goes back to the right hands."

The man hums, drumming his fingers against the bar. 

"I want to be there when you ask random people if they are missing their cock cage."

Steve presses his lips together. 

"Stop saying that."

"What?" He tilts his head, looking amused. "Cock cage? Like the cock cage you have in your bag?"

"Yes. That."

He raises his hands placatingly. 

"All I'm saying is I would be embarrassed as fuck if I was the idiot who lost it. Would be hard to come forward and admit it," he says, raising his shoulders. 

Steve huffs, slumping against the bar.

"Fuck, you're right."

"I know," the man murmurs back and they quietly sip their drinks. 

"There must be places where it isn't that weird to admit it," Steve thinks out loud. He looks to his bar companion for confirmation but he's frowning at the liquor display in front of him, lost in thoughts. Steve hopes they aren't about him. The guy had a good profile and a cute nose.

"Hey." He nudges him gently with an elbow. 

"Hm?" The man turns, his frown melting away so he can raise his eyebrows curiously.

"Do you know any fetish places where I could leave a poster or something?"

The man only stares at him blankly. 

"You're gonna make posters," he states more than he asks.

"If I have to." Steve shrugs. 

"You sure you don't want me to just take it off you?"

"Nope."

"We could exchange numbers and I'll let you know when I find the owner."

Steve thinks about that. 

"You could lie, though," he points out. 

He huffs, annoyed. 

"I totally absolutely could," he agrees with a resigned nod like using logic pains him. Then, he sighs. "I could buy it off you?" he finally offers. 

Steve's taken aback.

"Why do you want it so badly?" He frowns at him.

"I just want to do you a favor, man!" He rolls his eyes. He's almost angry and 100% done with this conversation, it seems, as he downs the rest of his drink and slides off the barstool. 

"Tomorrow at ten, in front of the bookstore on John Paul. Bring your silly posters and I'll show you some kink shops and bars."

Steve blinks at him.

"That okay?" the man asks, tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. 

Hesitantly, Steve nods. 

"I guess that's my best shot. Thanks, man."

The guy nods.

"Don't mention it."

Then he turns and leaves, hands buried deep into his pockets, and Steve realizes he hasn't even asked for his name. 

He regrets not taking the guy on his offer to take the thing off him when he had the chance. Because he wouldn't be stuttering his way through explanations while his temporary companion revels in his embarrassment like it's the gods' nectar. 

At least now he knows his name is Eddie. 

Eddie pretends to be interested in the little display of nipple rings while Steve tries to convince the shop owner to hang his little poster saying "fetish gear found". The man finally yields, as do two others, thus concluding the number of sex shops in the area. 

"The bars don't open until late but we can try the Hangover before we part."

"What's that?" Steve asks, following Eddie anyway.

"Also a bar, but they serve hangover food around noon. They have the best bacon and won't tell me where they buy it from." He frowns like it's some personal feud. 

"Perfect. I can buy you lunch for helping me." Steve grins at him.

Eddie seems surprised at first but then smiles widely. 

"I won't say no to free food. This way, my good man!"

The place is a hole in the wall but really cozy. It seems like the same guy who took their order is cooking it and there's only one other person, with a coffee refill in front of them and a plate of... something unrecognizable under every possible sweet topping. 

"I gotta show this place to Robin, she'll love it," Steve comments while looking around. The inside looks like It was never fully finished or whatever purpose it served previously didn't require it. The walls are rough bricks, the windows old and probably drafty, and the only part of the floor that isn't rough cement is the dancefloor. 

But the collection of LED signs, mismatched couches, and a sunflower mural softened the rough interior. Steve will definitely come here again.

They get their own jug of coffee and Eddie pours for both of them.

"Girlfriend?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve rolls his eyes in a very tired way and Eddie almost chokes on his surprised laugh. 

"Geez okay, not a girlfriend then."

Steve chuckles dryly. 

"Nope, just my best friend. We play for different teams."

Eddie eyes him curiously but he doesn't elaborate on that. He clears his throat. 

"Well, in that case, I should tell you that all the places I've shown you today are queer-friendly."

"This included." The chef must have heard that last sentence. He places their food on the counter. "There you go, little gays, bone apéritif."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it goes," Eddie murmurs, immediately snatching a piece of bacon off his hash browns. 

"It is how it goes if you want more free coffee," says the chef as he turns around. 

"Your French is immaculate, Benjamine!" 

Steve makes an ugly snort at Eddie's terrible French accent. The man seems to be very proud of his little theatrics.

For a moment it's just the sound of forks against plates and the distant radio playing in the kitchen. Eddie finishes first, almost inhaling his food like he's a human vacuum, and pours himself more coffee. 

"You wanna go to the bars too? Later?"

Steve chews on his bite thoughtfully. 

"I think if you give me the addresses I'll be good to go on my own. You've already done so much, man."

Eddie is stunned into silence. This is not the answer he wanted. He licks his rapidly drying lips, looking for a good excuse to keep tagging along. 

"Uh, are you sure?" 

"Yeah, don't worry about it. You've wasted so much time on me today. I don't want to completely ruin your weekend." Steve smiles at him. 

"It's not a problem, really—"

"No, man, I wouldn't feel okay dragging you around." Steve shakes his head. 

"First of all, I'm dragging you around," Eddie huffs. "Second of all, it's the first time a man this pretty spent so much time with me and hasn't run for the hills. Let me have this."

Steve frowns at that information.

"You must have shit luck with men." 

"Tell me about it," Eddie murmurs into his coffee. 

"So it would be a date?" 

Eddie turns to him, eyes wide. But Steve holds his gaze.

"I mean, it would be nice." Eddie tugs on his hair nervously. "We can do the posters thing and then just have fun for the rest of the night, no?" he offers. 

"Absolutely." Steve smiles reassuringly. 

"Awesome." Eddie grins.

Steve spends hours figuring out his outfit. It's his first official date with a man, he has to look good. He therefore makes the mistake of calling his best friend. He nods along as she tells him what exactly to put on (How she has memorized his wardrobe is a question he doesn't want answered.) and then clears his throat when she takes a breath. 

"What if I don't want to attract women?"

There's a pause and then—

"My my, Steven, finally going for it?"

"You could say that."

"Where are you going? A bar? What's the vibe?"

He sighs. 

'We're kind of bar hopping, he's showing me around the area."

"Back up, back up!" she yells in his ear. "We?! You're not just going out? You have a date?"

"Yeah," Steve more breathes than says. He has a date. It's slowly dawning on him.

"Who is he?" Robin asks impatiently and he can easily imagine her curling up in her armchair for gossip. 

"His name is Eddie—"

"Okay, sounds normal."

"—he has this long, wild hair, and tattoos—"

"Okay, less normal."

"—but he is normal. A bit awkward, kind of dorky, not at all how you'd expect a guy in a leather jacket to be."

"Huh. Okay, maybe I won't find you in a ditch somewhere. I want a call when you get back, no later than tomorrow morning. At noon, I'm calling the police."

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. 

"Of course, Robbie. But can we focus on the matter at hand?"

In the end, he goes the Freddie Mercury route, with a tank top that shows off his chest hair, and tight jeans. He throws a colorful shirt over it to fight off the night chill. Eddie looks pretty much the same as earlier, though his band t-shirt looks a bit tighter. 

"Steve," he sighs instead of a proper greeting and Steve's face falls. He looks down at himself. 

"What? Is it that bad?"

"Darling, you're gonna get eaten alive. How am I supposed to fight off all of the bargoers?"

Steve laughs in surprise, feeling himself blush.

"I guess you'll just have to hold on to me."

Eddie's eyes sparkle under the setting sun. 

"Don't have to tell me twice," he says, pulling Steve inside their first location. "I saved my favorite place for last. But we can stay wherever you feel like."

Eddie stays true to his word, parading Steve around like an arm candy, their elbows hooked together. Only on their second bar does he realize something is amiss. 

"You didn't bring your posters?" he asks curiously, cocking his head. 

Steve hums next to him, sipping on the colorful drink the bartender recommended.

"Do I need them?"

Eddie's visibly taken aback by the question. He frowns at Steve. 

"Didn't you want to find the owner?"

Steve nods, unfazed. 

"Yeah, and I did."

Eddie's face blanches. He opens his mouth before closing it abruptly, his frown deepening. 

"What? When?" he asks, barely containing his panic and immensely confused. 

"Earlier today." Steve shrugs. "Haven't given it back yet, though."

"Oh, thank gods." Eddie visibly deflates. Steve raises his eyebrows at that, so he rushes to add: "It's great that you found him so fast." He forces out a smile. "Who is it? Did he know what it was?" The poster was purposefully vague so the person calling in would have to say what they'd lost. 

Steve shakes his head, raising the drink to his lips to prolong the suspense just a bit more. 

"It's you."

Eddie's brain short circuits. He's stunned for too long for his forced laugh to work. 

"Hahah, what?" 

Steve smiles at him and since he's feeling extra merciless tonight, reaches out for the man's neck. Eddie looks close to fainting but Steve doesn't relent and rubs a thumb across his jugular, observing him shiver before he pulls him in by his nape. He leans in to press his nose to Eddie's skin, fingers digging into the roots of his hair, where lingers the smell of his shampoo. Artificial lemon and cigarettes. He must have taken a shower before going out. 

"You smell just like the guy I ran into that day," Steve explains close to his skin as he traces it with the tip of his nose. Slowly, he moves away. He's a bit worried he moved too fast, but Eddie's cheeks are red and his eyes are fixed on his mouth, so he relaxes back into his seat. "And if I had any doubts, your reaction just now dispelled them all," he finishes with a smirk. 

Eddie groans, hiding in his hands.

"This is the most embarrassing date in my life and once I wore my shirt inside out."

Steve laughs but reaches out to put his hand on Eddie's knee to weaken the blow. 

"Don't worry, it's working on me."

Eddie pushes his fingers apart to peek at him. 

"Really?"

"Surprisingly, yes." Steve nods. "I hope it works out, preferably long enough so I can tell about our first meeting at the engagement party." His smile turns wide and teasing. "We'll put Cinderella to shame."

Eddie groans, but it sounds more pained this time. 

"Careful," he says heatedly. "My humiliation kink is flaring up," he says, aiming for humor, but something new wakes up in Steve and he cocks his head with a fake pout.

"Poor baby. You wanna go hide your shame somewhere more private?"

Eddie presses his lips together, breathing deeply through his nose. 

"Can we?"

Steve finishes quickly his drink and slides off his bar stool. He feels the pleasant buzz of alcohol and Eddie Eddie Eddie. He leans in for a quick, impulsive peck against his pink lips.

"Of course." He grins. "Let's go."

[how2dream]

epiphany

you and spencer are best friends. a conversation after movie night changes your relationship for the better.

pairing: spencer reid x bau fem!reader genre: fluff!!!!! tags: pet names, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, love confessions, kissing, cuddling, mid to late seasons spencer word count: ~1k

It’s late Friday evening when you finally leave the BAU and head to Spencer’s apartment for movie night. The tradition started when you first joined the team, and you hope that it will continue to last for as long as you know him. It’s something you both look forward to at the start of every week.  

When you get to his place, a sense of calm washes over you, the stress from work instantly leaving your body. You gather snacks from his kitchen and sit down on the couch, close enough to feel the warmth he radiates. This time it’s your turn to choose the movie. Neither of you are surprised when you pick a rom-com, your favorite genre to watch. Spencer pretends to be annoyed by it, but you know he secretly enjoys them. Even if he won’t ever openly admit it.

It isn’t until the end of the movie that you regret your decision. The two main characters end up confessing their love for each other after a scene filled with tension, their lips colliding in a passionate kiss. You hold your breath, your muscles tense. Spencer’s gaze is burning into the side of your head, and it makes butterflies fill your stomach. 

You’re quick to shut the TV off as soon as the credits start rolling. It’s only then that you realize how late it’s gotten after glancing at your watch, the time reading close to midnight. 

“I should probably get going,” you say quietly, still avoiding Spencer’s gaze by keeping yours focused on your lap. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out by yourself this late at night. Can you stay over, please?” he asks. 

You nod and finally look up at him, your cheeks warming at the clear concern evident in his features. “Yeah, I can stay,” you say, then frown. “I don’t have any of my things, though.” 

“That’s okay. You can wear something of mine, and I have extra toothbrushes.”

“Oh,” you breathe. “Thanks.” 

Once you’re finished getting ready for bed, you stand there in Spencer’s bedroom, biting your lip as you rock on the balls of your feet. He gives you a curious look as he slips under the covers. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Fine, I just—I think I’ll take the couch—”

“You’re not taking the couch,” Spencer cuts you off with a shake of his head. “I think there’s enough room in here for the both of us.”

You gulp. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He says your name softly, and a look of confusion crosses over his face. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, I promise.” 

A deep breath passes through your lips as you nod. With your heart feeling like it’s about to leap out of your chest, you cross the room to the other side of the bed and crawl under the covers. You lie there stiff as a board while Spencer reaches over to shut off the lamp on his bedside table, shrouding the room in darkness. You exchange soft goodnights before a comfortable silence settles over the two of you like a warm blanket. 

Not even a few seconds have passed before you speak again, unable to relax enough to fall asleep. “Spence?” 

You watch as he shifts to face you, his eyes roaming over your features once he settles again. “What’s up?”

“Do you… do you believe in love at first sight?” you ask softly. “You know, how it was for the characters in the movie?” 

He’s quiet as he takes the time to think of his answer before he responds. “No. At least, I don’t think I did before.” 

“What changed your mind?” you ask, frowning.

Spencer gazes at you for a few moments, his tongue darting out quickly to lick his lips. “You did.” 

Your mouth drops open and you stare at him, your heartbeat loud in your ears. Did he just say what you think he said? You try to formulate an articulate response, but he’s rendered your mind completely blank. All that you can come up with is a single word. 

“What?” 

A small smile curves his lips, and you’re close enough to him to notice his cheeks turning a visible shade of red even without any light to see by. “It happened the first day I met you at the BAU.” 

Your heart rolls into a never ending somersault. “Spence.” 

“Yeah?” he asks softly.

“You… you’re saying that you love me?” you manage to whisper.

He nods and reaches forward to cradle your cheek, his hand nearly encompassing the side of your face. The pads of his fingers are feather-light against your skin, warmth seeping from his palm, and you lean into his touch. “Of course I do, angel,” he says, the words filled with so much adoration that it makes your eyes water, your breath catching in your throat at the pet name. 

“I—I love you, too.”

Spencer beams, and the sight makes your heart flutter. “Can I kiss you?” he asks shyly. His voice rises an octave, something that you’ve heard so many times, but you never thought that you’d be the cause of it. 

You nod. He’s still grinning when he scoots closer to you and presses his lips to yours, kissing you like he’s a man starved and you’re his last meal. You respond instantly with just as much fervor. The two of you are breathless when you break apart, the sound of your soft pants filling the space between you. Then you start to giggle, and so does he, and it might be one of your favorite sounds in the world. When you both finally start to calm down, you’re still grinning as you gaze at each other. 

“Goodnight, Spence,” you say. 

He slips an arm around your waist and tugs you close to him so that your chests are pressed together. His legs tangle with yours, and soon you’re so entwined that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel him press a feather-light kiss your forehead. 

“Goodnight, sweet girl.”

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 17

Summary: Most of Malleus’s day is spent zoning out while bathing in sunlight. It’s always fun to see his little lizard brain occasionally spark up an idea.

(I used to have pet lizards. Loved the way their eyes convey the absolute emptiness going on in their brain.)

Malleus hasn’t blinked for the past hour. He just sits there, on the window sill, face turned towards the sunlight as he stared into the lush yard outside. From a certain angle, he almost looks forlorn, like a doll abandoned by the side of the road.

If Sebek was here, he’d certainly be fretting around Malleus, trying to snap him out whatever trance he was caught up in. And Silver would whisper his concerns into your ear, hoping you’d give him ideas as to what’s wrong with Malleus despite being his owner for longer. And Lilia, cute bat Lilia, he’d be trying to goad Malleus into playing a flying game with him just to get him moving.

You walked over, leaned against the window sill, and poked Malleus on the forehead. He didn’t so much as twitch, his eyes remain unblinking. You pushed your finger against his head and watched as he practically became a wobble doll. You let go and Malleus still body rocked back and forth until he was stable again.

Malleus was still staring off into the distance.

You snorted. “Not a thought behind those eyes, huh? Empty-headed little critter.”

Bathing in sunlight always does this to him, like the warmth of sun soothed all the chaos in his head into nothingness.

There’s nothing wrong with him, Malleus was just zoning out for the moment. He’ll be back online in a moment. It’s always entertaining to hear the way Silver describes him, like this little pet was some always caught up in some grand and mysterious scheme. A magical genius so smart that his thoughts escape everyone’s comprehension.

That’s not quite it thought. Malleus is Malleus, and he’s more the kind of pet to get stuck on one particular thought or subject for weeks on end. All pets have different phases and routines, and long-living fae pets such as Malleus were no exception. He’s just slower to get to the next phase.

You opened the window. The wind gently blew right past the both of you, guiding the falling leaves and gently caressing your curtains. You took a deep breath in, and sighed it out.

Suddenly, Malleus’s eyes snapped wide open, back stiff and wings jittery. Energetic, excited about something.

“Oh?” You lowered your head. “Did you get an idea?” Are the gears finally turning again in his brain.

You scratched at his soft belly scales and laughed when he practically launched himself out of your hand. He was practically a rocket as he shot out the window, barely more than a blur as he flew in a pattern only he knew.

This month’s obsession seems to be dizzying flight patterns. All because Malleus witnessed Lilia’s flying right after he finished eating some of Crowley’s fermented peaches.

After a round of unsteady figure eights, Malleus finished with a belly flop on the grass, as Lilia did before. He got up, cleaned himself off, and fly once more. He’s nothing if not determined, that’s for sure. Still, it’s hilarious that he spent the entire day zoning out at your house.

Sure, you were a little concerned when he first did it, but you figured it out soon enough. You did as you usually do and let the pets do their own thing.

Maybe that’s why Malleus likes to come over here often. You’ve never been much of a person that fusses. Unless they’re putting themselves in active danger, you’re not going to bother them every single second of their life.

Well, whatever the reason may be, it’s still made clear that your house is a place to zone out in. You know you do that often. And, you will admit, you love the way Malleus's eyes go all empty like that.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Back home p.5

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this part and if you've missed part 4 here it is.

Charles steps closer, his brow furrowed with concern as he gently places a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is soft, calming, but you can hear the underlying worry. Without thinking, you nod, though your heart is still racing from the encounter. The relief of having Charles step in hits you all at once, and before you know it, his arms are wrapping around you in a comforting hug.

You lean into him, grateful for his warmth and steady presence. He holds you just tight enough to make you feel safe, and you close your eyes, letting the moment calm your nerves.

As you stand there in Charles's embrace, you don’t notice Arthur approaching from across the room. But he sees you. The way Charles is holding you, the protective way his arms are wrapped around you—Arthur’s chest tightens with a mix of emotions.

That should be me, Arthur thinks, his jaw clenched as a wave of jealousy rushes through him. He’s always been the one looking out for you, keeping you close. And now, seeing his brother comforting you, it feels like something is slipping away, something he thought was only his.

He quickly crosses the room, pushing those thoughts aside as he approaches. "What happened?" Arthur's voice is tight, though he tries to mask the storm brewing inside him.

Charles lets go of you, and you take a deep breath, turning to Arthur. “Some guy wouldn’t leave me alone. Charles showed up just in time.”

Arthur’s eyes darken as he processes what you’re saying, a flash of protectiveness sparking in him. “What did he do?” he asks, his voice low and serious now. The tension is clear in his posture as he steps closer, his gaze flicking from you to where the guy had disappeared into the crowd.

You shake your head. “It’s fine. He just… wouldn’t take no for an answer. Charles handled it.”

Arthur’s expression softens as he looks at you, his concern overshadowing the jealousy he feels toward his brother. Gently, he reaches out, his hand brushing your arm as he steps even closer. “Are you okay?”

His touch is different from Charles’s—more familiar, warmer in a way that makes you feel safe, like you’ve been here a thousand times before. You smile softly, trying to ease his worry. “Yeah, I’m okay now.”

But inside, Arthur’s thoughts are far from calm. Charles is always swooping in, isn’t he? he thinks, though he hides it well. He wants to be the one you turn to, the one you feel safe with—not his brother. The jealousy gnaws at him, but seeing you shaken like this, his priority is making sure you’re alright.

“Let’s get out of here,” Arthur suggests, his tone gentle but firm, still not quite able to shake the possessiveness he feels. He looks over at Charles, who nods in agreement.

The three of you leave the party together, Arthur keeping you close by his side. He glances over at Charles, who walks on the other side of you, and for a brief moment, he catches his brother’s eye. There’s a silent understanding between them—both of them are here for you, but Arthur can’t help but feel that old rivalry flaring up again, just beneath the surface.

As you step outside into the cool night air, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. Arthur stays close, his hand on your back, while Charles walks quietly beside you. They’re both there, looking out for you, but in Arthur’s mind, there’s only one person he wants to be, the one you need..

As the three of you walk out into the cool night air, the tension from the party starts to fade. The silence feels comforting, but you can sense that Arthur and Charles are still watching over you closely. You feel their presence on either side, and it’s reassuring, but also a little overwhelming—like you’re caught between them in a way you can’t quite place.

Suddenly, Charles breaks the quiet. “How about we get some ice cream?” he suggests, his voice light and easy. “Might help brighten the mood after… all that.”

You smile at the idea, grateful for the distraction. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”

Arthur, though still a bit tense, nods in agreement. “Yeah, I’m in.”

A short while later, you’re sitting outside a small ice cream shop, the three of you at a quiet table. The atmosphere is much more relaxed now, and you find yourself laughing at something Charles said about the last time he tried to cook. It’s easy, comfortable—just like old times.

As you take a bite of your ice cream, Arthur glances at Charles, his voice teasing but with an edge of curiosity. “By the way, doesn’t your girlfriend miss you right now? It’s getting pretty late.”

Charles’s expression shifts slightly, a small shadow crossing his face. He lowers his spoon, and for a moment, he hesitates. “We broke up,” he says simply, his tone more serious than it’s been all night.

You stop mid-bite, eyes widening. “Oh, Charles… I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Without thinking, you reach out and place a hand on his arm, your touch gentle.

Charles gives you a small, appreciative smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. It wasn’t working for a while now. But thanks.”

You nod, giving him a sympathetic look. “Breakups are hard, but you’ll get through it. You always do.”

Arthur watches the exchange quietly, trying to push down the flicker of jealousy that rises in him when he sees you comforting his brother. He knows you’re just being kind, but it still stings to see how easily Charles seems to pull you into his orbit. I need to be the one she turns to, Arthur thinks, but he keeps it to himself, staying focused on you.

After a moment, Charles glances at you, his expression curious but lighthearted. “So, what about you? Anyone special in your life these days?” His tone is casual, but there’s an underlying tension in the question that you don’t notice.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Nope. Just me.” You take another spoonful of ice cream, completely unaware of how both Charles and Arthur are subtly watching your every move.

What you don’t realize is that the moment you answered, both brothers held their breath, waiting for what you’d say. They both feel a strange mixture of relief and anticipation at your response, even if neither of them lets it show.

“Well,” Charles says with a playful smile, trying to keep the mood light, “that just means they haven’t met someone as great as you yet.”

Arthur chuckles, but his smile is tight. He’s glad to hear you’re single, but he also knows this changes things. There’s no competition—except between him and his brother.

You smile back at both of them, oblivious to the tension that simmers just below the surface. To you, it’s just another night with two of your closest friends, not realizing how much more it means to them.

Tag list: @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @janeh22, @victoriaholland, @abq654, @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @anaferreira-4, @larastark3107, @itgirlofthecenturysposts, @boherahpsody, @iamkaku, @jz12

[conchcronch]

Little Rabbit

Sir Crocodile x You

It’s been weeks since he’s paid you an ounce of attention. You had done everything you could think of, except one thing. You knew interrupting their meeting was going to be met with a punishment, but at least you’d have him all to yourself.

A/N: I do not know where this came from, am I a Crocodile simp now 🤷‍♀️

Kinks included: Daddy kink, impact play, slight exibitionism

You could hear the sound of the clown’s whining through the heavy doors that separated you from the boardroom. Rarely did meetings need to be hosted anywhere besides the new Guild ship, but Crocodile claimed he needed a break from the gaudy circus-inspired interior so he offered up his own ship. The three of them had been hold up there since before you were awake, having rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty and cool to the touch. You had been milling around the doors, hoping they could at the very least call for a break so you could see him but as the hours stretched on you grew impatient.

Over the past few weeks he had been so caught up in his guild work that you had barely been able to see him, you were lucky if you were able to even get a few words in before he went to bed. Sometimes you even followed him to your shared bedroom, in hopes you could bother him for the quickest of quickies. But every time he would just pull you against his bare chest and fall asleep, barely a word spoken between you two. You understood he was tired, you were conscious that he had been working extremely long hours but it seemed as though you weren’t even there. And you intended to end that here and now.

You had put on an outfit you knew he was partial to, a black silky dress the fell to your mid thigh. It had black lace along the hem, neckline and the narrow straps, it was the simplest dress you owned but something about the way the fabric hugged your wide hips always made him go crazy. You had paired it with simple black boots that sat just below your knee, a gold SC could be seen on the back of the heel but other then that they were plain. You had gone to his private bar and poured him a glass of his favourite scotch in a crystal glass, along with a glass and bottle of red wine you knew would be up to Mihawk’s standards. For the clown you brought water, hoping the two would allow the poor thing to actually drink it.

With a deep breath you pushed opened the heavy door, feeling heat begin to radiate from between your legs as soon as you saw Crocodile, who’s head whipped to look at who had the audacity to interrupt. All eyes were on you, their conversation pausing as they took you in. “I know you’re busy, but I thought I’d bring you all something to drink to tide you over until dinner is ready.” You walked first to Mihawk’s side, setting the glass down in front of him and slowly pouring the wine for him, turning the bottle as you did so to avoid it dripping when you filled the glass halfway. You could feel the other two’s eyes scan over your body when you faced Mihawk, who’s eyes were shamelessly running up and down your form. “Thank you my dear, you’re so thoughtful.” His hand caught yours as you placed the bottle on the table, bringing your hand to his lips, his gaze averting from you to Crocodile’s. “You’ve got yourself quite the woman, Crocodile.” His lips moved against your hand in a way your body could hardly handle, finally allowing your hand to slip from his when the man across the table cleared his throat.

“I also brought Buggy water, but I can just put that here.” You placed the water next to Mihawk, hazarding a look at the clown who’s head sat at the end of the table, a prominent bump above his eyes and his blue tangled tresses surrounding him. You could tell he wanted to thank you, but he kept his mouth shut, only giving you a small nod so you knew he was grateful.

You picked up the glass you had left at the head of the table, walking around so you could place it on Crocdile’s right side, making sure to bend over the table as you slid the glass across the wooden surface. You knew if he tried he could easily see the hint of your purple panties, you picked them specifically to match the vest he was currently wearing, the white lace on the sems perfectly mimicking the piping that accented his outfit. “Can I bring anything else for any of you?” You couldn’t resist touching him, your hand running from his shoulder to behind his neck where you tried to card your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck before he fidgeted, his sign for you to get your hands away. With a huff you pulled your hand away, drawing your attention back to the other two men at the table.

“I’m quite alright, but thank you little rabbit.” Mihawk’s eyes held yours, the yellow rings of his iris making it difficult to tear your gaze away, but when you felt a hand on the back of your thigh your eyes moved without question to the man next to you.

“S-sir” Slipped from your lips in a breathy tone, half startled from the unexpected touch so close to where you needed him most. You looked at him, his brow knit together in irritation. “Can I bring you anything to eat?” He shook his head, blowing a cloud of smoke at you. He moved in his chair, bringing his leg to drape over his knee and god you wanted to sit in his lap, to feel his wide chest against your back, his hook running along your inner thigh, his fingers grazing over your covered core.

“No, go away, we have more work to do.” You wanted to fight it, argue that you had some use in this meeting, you knew that would at best be met with a laugh but that was unlikely. You wanted to kiss him, to leave a lipstick stain on his cheek that could be a silent reminder that you’d be waiting for him, but you knew that would be a mistake. So you walked out, pulling the doors closed behind you, only catching the cold words of Crocodile saying “Shut up” to something Mihawk must have said but you had missed.

You were yet to know whether your plan was a success so you made your way to his office, closing the door behind you and flicking on the dim light. You curled up in the green velvet loveseat he bought specifically for you. He always liked you having a place in his rooms, somewhere that you can stay when he wants you to be near him but still be able to get work done. You picked up the book you had left there from the last night you had tried to stay up late enough to see him, not knowing he was going to go straight to bed. Tonight wouldn’t be like that, you were determined to see him, the throbbing between your legs demanded it.

Just when you were thinking you were going to go find a different set of four walls to stare at, your book barely holding your attention anymore, you heard the sound of pristine dress shoes click against the wood floorboards. You froze, your book clutched in your hands to make it seem like you were reading and not just counting down the seconds until you hoped his meeting wrapped up. The door opened and there he was. You had to push the moan down that tried to bubble up just at the sight of him, it would have shown just how down bad you really were. As he closed the door his eyes landed on you and you tried desperately to act like you didn’t notice. He didn’t say anything to you right away, walking around his desk and sitting down with a new stack of papers he must have brought from the meeting. “You think you’re real clever don’t you?” He dug through his desk drawer before pulling out his monogrammed fountain pen, beginning to sign document after document, only stopping occasionally to read over whatever was written on it.

“I was just trying to be hospitable.” You peaked over the top of your book, noticing how his eyebrow twitched.

“You’re well on your way to a punishment if you keep that up.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” You push yourself upright from the way you naturally slouched, stretching your legs out, the heels of your bare feet digging into the velvet, having taken your boots and knee highs off shortly after settling in to read. A deep chuckle falls from his lips, his shoulder shaking as he scrawls his signature on another dotted line.

“I can practically smell how wet you are from over here, but I’m not going to do anything about it until you can list off exactly what you did wrong.” The way in which he speaks to you is reminiscent of how someone might relay the weather, not as though he’s giving you instructions that only dampen your panties more.

“M-Maybe I’ll just go find Mihawk and see if he’ll help me. I am his rabbit after all.” Crocodile scoffed at your attempt to be smug, watching as you coyly crossed your ankles bringing his gaze down your pale legs to your freshly manicured toes before crawling back up to your face that you try to cover with your book that you’re clearly not actually reading. “Or maybe I’ll ask Buggy.” You allowed your eyes to flick up from the pages just in time to see the large man crunch his cigar between his molars.

“Go ahead, you’ll just come crying back to me when they can’t make you cum.” He shrugged, thumbing through the remaining papers in his pile of yet to be signed documents. The conversation died, you tried to go back to your book and he went back to his work. The sound of his ballpoint pen scratching against the paper was the only sound that filled the room. With every piece of paper he moved from his right to his left you hoped he would turn his attention to you, but he never did. You rub your thighs together looking for any kind of pressure to ease the pulsing between your legs but nothing seems to help.

”I-I shouldn’t have interrupted your meeting.” The only sign that he heard you was a short hum that you knew as an affirmative sound.

“That’s one.”

“But you’ve been in meetings all month, I thought if you had the meeting here I could come see you more, I miss you.”

“No, your cunt misses me.” You had to clench your teeth together to stop the moan from pushing out of your parted lips at the mention of your cunt which was begging to be touched.

“So what if my cunt missed you, is that not enough?”

“Your cunt misses me the second I pull out, if I came to you every time she missed me, I’d get nothing done.” The way he spoke to you, spoke about you, never failed to make your cheeks burn but as the room fell silent again, and even the smell of his cigar, a habit that a few months ago you found disgusting now makes the throb between your legs excruciating. “I shouldn’t have bent over the table in front of you.” Your words were barely loud enough for him to hear but you knew he did. You hoped that that would be enough to appease him, enough to get him to give into you but you knew by the curt nod it wasn’t.

“There’s more to the list then that, but you’re doing better.”

“This isn’t fair.” You weren’t proud of the whiny tone your voice took on, but it had been weeks since you had sex, even longer since you had touched yourself, and this was pushing you beyond your limit.

“Quit your whining, I’ve told you what you need to do to get what you want, it’s not my fault you refuse to follow basic instructions.”

“I don’t know what else I did!”

“That’s not my problem.” You could hear the irritation that was bleeding into his tone, his eyebrows knit together as he ground what little of the cigar that was left between his teeth.

“Are you mad he kissed my hand? Mad that he called me his rabbit?” You tossed your book down by your feet, swinging your legs forward so they dangled just off the ground. “Mad that I brought Buggy water, or was it just the simple fact that I was there that bothered you so much?”

“I’m not playing this game with you, if you think those are the things you did wrong then just say that.” You let out a frustrated groan as you dug the heels of your palm into your eyes. You push yourself up to your feet, walking over to his desk and standing there waiting for him to notice you. He knows you’re there, you know he does, but his lack of acknowledgement makes you want to slam your hands on his desk in anger. “Please.” You whine.

“I’ve told you what you have to do, I’m not in the mood to make compromises.”

“Can I make it up to you?”

“You can’t make up for something if you don’t know what that something is.” You wanted to leave, to turn on your heel and slam his office door behind you. You wanted to march up to your shared bedroom, shove your face into his pillow and finger fuck yourself enough times that the throbbing between your legs is replaced by the prickle of overstimulation, but you knew if you did that you would be facing an even worse punishment then this.

“Please Sir.” You watched as he slammed his hook in the desk, his gaze finally meeting yours, his dark eyes somehow even darker.

“There it is again.”

“I-I thought you liked it when I cal-“

“Enough.” He interrupted you, pushing himself to his feet finally. “First you allow him to touch you, to kiss you. Then you throw yourself at me in the middle of a meeting, when I’ve explicitly told you to never do that. You acted like a slut in front of my colleagues, you invade my office without permission, flaunting your greedy little cunt to me while I’m trying to work and now you have the audacity to beg.” He pulled the butt of his cigar out from between his teeth, stubbing it out in the ash tray on his desk. “I thought you were finally trained, then out of nowhere you act out like this.” He walked around the heavy oak desk, pausing only to drape his gray fur coat over the back of his chair before continuing around to tower over you. You try to take a step back, to put some distance between you two, reminded of the sheer power he wields over you, but he’s quick to hold you in place with his hook. “And now, after all that whining you finally get my attention and what, you try to back away from me?” He shakes his head at you, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “You know what’s coming, don’t you?” He doesn’t fight the wicked smile that spreads over his wide mouth as you shake your head, eyes wide. “Come now baby girl, it hasn’t been that long since I’ve had to punish you, you must remember”

“I-I don’t remember, really.” That was a lie, you knew exactly what was coming but you were living for this game you were playing. His aroma wrapped around you like vice, encompassing you completely in his colegn and the smell of his cigar, making your head swim.

“I guess I’ll have to remind you then, won’t I?” With a quick movement he shoved you into the densely cushioned high back of the loveseat. You quickly knocked your book on the ground, making sure it wasn’t going to get in the way of whatever was coming next. “I suppose no matter how well you train a bitch, she’ll eventually bite the hand that feeds her.” He made his way over to you, taking his time. He holds out his hand to you, palm upturned, his signal that he wanted you to remove his cufflink, a task that proved more difficult for him then he would ever admit.

You reach out, using both hands to guide the cufflink out from the French cuff before placing the small piece of gold that was shaped to into a crocodile head with tiny emerald eyes into his hand before rolling his sleeve up just above his elbow. When you were done you sat back on the chair, rubbing your thighs together as you waited for your next instructions. He brought a hand to your cheek and you braced for a swift smack, but it never came. Instead he cupped your cheek, his thumb running over your top lip, smearing the light pink lipstick onto your skin. You parted your lips, hoping he’d press his thick thumb into your mouth, but instead he slipped his hand down your face to your neck. His gaze fell to watch his hand tug gently at the golden chain that adorned your neck, it had been the first gift he gave you, something he insisted you wear at all times. It was simple, nothing overly complex or flashy, a buckle closure chainmail style gold necklace that sat at the base of your neck. Something that he often would idolly tug at, tightening the chain around your neck before releasing it. “Over the arm of the couch.” The words fell out of his mouth while he ran his hand over your neckline, the rough pads of his fingers following the fabric of your dress, toying with the thin strap before finally pulling away and stepping back.

You stood, stepping around Crocodile and laying over the arm of your loveseat. There was enough cushioning on it that it wasn’t overly uncomfortable but you knew the position wasn’t the punishment. He grabbed the hem of your dress, pulling it up and over you so it pooled just below the back of your bra, leaving your thighs, ass and lower back completely exposed. You knew when you heard the deep chuckle that he had noticed just how soaked your panties were, the sheer purple fabric leaving very little to the imagination even in the most pristine conditions, but you were confident that they were so wet the fabric was entirely see through. “Did you wear this outfit just to tempt me?” He ran a hand up the back of your thigh, grabbing the meat of your ass roughly.

“Y-yes.” You mumbled, face pressed into the velvet.

“What about these?” You felt the cool metal of his hook press right against your folds, the slick gathered there making the cool temperature of his golden hook even more noticeable. When you opened your mouth to speak, all you could do was moan, finally feeling his touch where you needed it the most.

“Yes, just for you.” He hummed approvingly, pulling his hook away from you with only a mild whine.

“Because you dressed so nicely for me, I’m feeling generous.” He ran his hand up over your ass and to your lower back, the pressure making your back arch more before he returned to your butt, grabbing the fat there. “I’m going to tell you all the things you did that pissed me off.”

“T-thank you, daddy.” He groaned at the name, you knew that was his favourite, always had been.

“And maybe next time, you’ll remember this and won’t do it again.” You nodded.

You heard the sound before you felt the sting of the first hit. The slap sound was loud enough to make you jump but he held you in place with his heavy hook that was pressing down on the small of your back. “That one’s for interrupting us.” This time you were ready for the impact, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “And that one’s for letting him touch you.” You yelped when his hand met your cheek again, the burn apparent even when his hand disappeared between hits. “And letting him kiss you.” You wanted to correct him, he kissed your hand, but you knew that would only anger him more. “This one is for touching me like that in front of my colleagues.” That one hurt. A long high pitched moan slipped from your lips as your fingers tried to find purchase on the velvet fabric beneath you. “Another for showing me these slutty panties when you knew I couldn’t touch them.” You’re sure your ass is beat red at this point, but the way he would rub a circle on the abused spot in between smacks fanned the flames of your arousal. “And this one, this one baby girl is for calling me Sir in front of them.” That one was the hardest by far, your body tensing from the impact, a yelp falling from your lips. “Do you know how hard hearing you say that made me?” He moved slightly, allowing himself to lean over you, his hook gone from your lower back and replaced with his arm hooking underneath your waist, his hand dangerously close to your cunt.

“I’m so sorry daddy, I just- I missed you so much.” Your eyes were welling with tears from the spanking but you could almost feel his erection against you.

“I know you did baby girl, I’ve missed you too. But you can’t interrupt me when I’m working.” He moved your hair to the side so he could press sloppy kisses along your shoulders. The moment his lips were on you you were a moaning mess. “You looked so pretty when you came into the room, in my favourite dress, all done up pretty for me.” You nodded “you know how much I love when you have your hair down.” Finally you felt it, his covered erection as he humped against your raised ass. “And the boots,” he groaned into the crook of your neck. “Next time you come into my office, I want you in nothing but those boots and your necklace.”

“Anything for you, daddy.” That sentance was incredibly difficult to get out between the flow of moans. “C-can you please fuck me?”

“I wish I could, baby girl.”

“Why can’t you?” You brokenly half sobbed.

“I have work to finish.” You could feel him begin to pull away, as though he just remembered the stack of paper he abandoned in order to punish you. He stood up, making sure to look at the bright red that adorned your ass before adjusting himself in his dress pants. You forced yourself off the arm of the couch, rubbing at the soon-to-be bruise that would be across your stomach, your dress falling back down as you straightened. He was walking back around his desk before you had a chance to touch him, knowing that if you could rope him into a kiss that work wasn’t going to get done tonight.

He sat heavily in his desk chair, picking his pen up against and reading over the paper he had in front of him. You stood next to the couch, balling the hem of your dress in your fists as you tried to decide what to do next. “Is it that bad?” He sighed, looking up at you while he snipped the end of fresh cigar before holding it between his teeth to light it. You nodded, rubbing your thighs together to emphasize your point. “Come here.” He pushed his chair back a bit as you walked around the desk. “You’re going to have to entertain yourself while I finish this up.” You nodded, noticing how he angled his leg out from under his desk. You knew what he was offering. At this point you were so desperate you would have taken anything, you’d hoped for his cock but you would have been content with his hook, but yet, you were left with his thigh. But you could make it work.

You straddled his thigh, grabbing his dress pants as much as you could as you rutted against him slowly, getting closer to him until you could rest your head on his shoulder. You couldn’t stop the breathy moan that slipped through your parted lips. The feeling of having anything rubbed against your folds felt heavenly, even if it was just his slender thigh clad in expressive dress pants. The smell of him was intoxicating, leaned your head against his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his bicep, thankful for his hooked hand that supported you as you rutted against him, moans and breathy whines flowing out of your mouth as easily as your slick had gathered. “How’s that feel, baby girl?” You knew it was taking all the willpower he had to keep working and not to just sit and watch you hump his leg in desperation.

“G-good, it’s good.” You pinched your eyes closed trying to focus on the high that seemed to be alluding you.

“Only good?”

“I can think of a few other things that would feel better.” You were surprised you even managed to get that sentence out between your breathy moans.

“Oh yeah, why don’t you tell me some?” You should have known he was going to say that. You could hear him scribbling his signature on paper after paper, not taking as much time to review whatever it was before signing it.

“Your fingers, your hook-“ his hook slipped from your hip and ran along your bare thigh, prematurely ending your sentence with a surprised moan. “Your your tongue, god, your face.” Something halfway between an uh huh and a groan came from beside you as you humped against his thigh, your nails digging into his arm as you tried to steady yourself now that his hook was running up and down your thigh. “Your cock.”

“Thought you almost forgot that one.” He let out a low chuckle before you heard his pen hit the desk followed by the feeling of his hand on your head. “Take that dress off, give me something to watch.” He leaned back in his chair as you pulled the silk garment over your head, tossing it beside you. Your bra was next to follow, quickly joining the dress on the ground. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his grey ones as he puffed out a cloud of smoke from the side of his mouth. “I think you’ve worked hard enough to get a little reward.” You were nodding before he was even done his sentance. “Stand up for me” Your legs were a bit shakey when you stood up off his thigh but when he offered you his hook for support it was much easier to move from his thigh to stand between his spread legs. “Let’s get these off, shall we?” He grabbed your panties and yanked them down your legs, impatience clear in his movements. You stepped out of them, kicking them in the vague direction of the rest of your clothes before you leaned into his large chest. You pulled the cigar from his mouth, placing it on the ash tray before wrapping your hands around his neck and carding them through in his longer hair.

Your lips were on his and all seemed right in the world again. It was crazy to think that you didn’t remember the last time the two of you had shared a passionate kiss like this. The silk of his vest was a nice contrast to the heat your body was radiating as his hand slid down and between your legs. “Do you know how badly I wanted to just slip my fingers between your legs when you interrupted our meeting?” His first finger slipped right in, no resistance, nothing, as though your body was begging for him. You could feel his ring slip inside, your slick gathering along the golden band. “I wanted you to stand there and take it, maybe even bend over the table so I could see your greedy little hole swallow my fingers.” He guided your head onto his shoulder, your nails digging into his neck and shoulder as you moaned against him. “Would you have liked that? If Mihawk and the clown watched you get finger fucked by me?” You nodded before a strangled yes was able to slip out. He pressed another thick finger into your hole, the squelching sound they were making as he fucked into you was bordering on pornographic, and your stream of moans wasn’t helping that image either. “Maybe they’re still here, should I call them in to watch how I can make you beg?” You shook your head, unable to get the word out. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt you so wet.” He whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your neck.

His thick fingers were fucking into you, the slapping was becoming louder, if that was even possible. “You’ve lasted longer than I expected.”

“You h-haven’t said I can c-u-um yet.”

“There’s my well trained girl. Are you close?” You answer him with a broken sob, and normally he would make you work for it, make you beg. But he takes pity on you, his own erection becoming irritating so in interest of progressing the night he huskily whispers “Cum for me, baby girl.” And you do. A crashing wave of pleasure washes over you. You’re sure that if he hadn’t been holding you upright you could have crumbled at his feet. His fingers kept moving instead of you, slowing down but not ready to pull out yet. When he finally does, nudging his shoulder to get your attention as he licks the digits, knowing how much you like to see him taste you in any capacity. Your eyes are glued to how his tongue moves, and he’s very aware of that fact. “Do you wanna taste yourself?” You nodded, opening your mouth so he could push his fingers inside.

The taste of your own arousal filled your mouth, and at the same time the fingers in your mouth were forcing you to your knees, pushing down with enough force on your tongue to get the message across.

You could smell his musk before your fingers were able to work the button of his pants open. As you fumbled with deft fingers you looked up at him, his big hand running through your hair, a cascade of smoke flowing from his mouth. “What I wouldn’t do to have you sit between my legs like this every guild meeting.” When his pants were open you quickly drew his cock and balls from inside, a motion that had become quite practiced after knowing Crocodile as long as you had.

With one hand wrapped around the girthy base, you pull it forward enough that you could lick a long strip to his engorged head before encircling it with your lips. “I think you can fit more of me between those pretty lips, don’t you?” The hand that was on your head started pushing you down, inch by inch you got closer to his well kept dark curls. When you got just over half of him down your throat you could feel your body begin to reject the intrusion, drool spilling from your mouth in amounts you found disgusting but he found thrilling. He knew if you ever stopped allowing yourself to be pushed down anymore you were at your limit. Instead of pushing he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you off his cock.

Your chin and lips were covered in shiny spit, your lipstick smeared and your eyeliner smudged from your tears. To him, there were few times you looked better than this. “I think you’re out of practice.” You nodded, your mind clouded by your arousal. “Let’s try again, shall we?” Again you nodded, resting your hands on either thigh, noticing the wet spot on his left thigh from where you had ground against him.

A knock at the door seemed to startle both of you, but lucky for you, Crocodile was great at problem solving, specifically when it came to how he can keep his cock in your mouth. He ushered you under his desk, pulling his chair in close so you weren’t visible. “It’s me.” A voice you instantly recognized as Mihawk’s came from the other side of the door with a second knock, if you hadn’t been as close to Crocodile you would I have missed the groan that he quickly muffled with a cough.

“Yeah yeah, come in.” The cigar was back between his teeth, the pen in his hand, as though Mihawk had just walked in on him actually working. You could hear the door open, and quiet footsteps towards you.

“Did you have a chance to look everything over?”

“Yeah, just finished.” With your limited space you couldn’t move up high enough on your knees to swallow him entirely, so you were stuck just mouthing at his shaft, licking at the drips of pre cum as they slid down from his head.

“Thank you, I didn’t realize how much it was until after the meeting.” Crocodile hummed. “Unfortunately, I have more.” You heard more paper being put down on the oak desk and a groan of irritation from the man who’s cock you wanted to choke on. There was a silence that hung in the air and you couldn’t tell what was happening, which drove you crazy. “I think you should host more of our meetings, it was a much needed change of scenery from the atrocious ship that carries our flag.” Crocodile scoffs, and you can’t tell if it’s to cover up a pleasurable sound or if it was the real reaction to the sentence. You wondered if Mihawk could pick up on the smell of sex, to you it was all you could smell.

“Why don’t we go to your ship if the only reason is a change of pace?”

“Because, unfortunately I don’t have an attractive little rabbit to bring me wine at the drop of a hat. So I believe I prefer it here”

“Too bad I don’t have a little rabbit to bring you wine either, a shame really.” You could practically picture his face, an eyebrow cocked, cigar held tightly between his teeth, his nose scrunched in disgust at the thought of Mihawk giving his property such a ill suited pet name. You continued to leave sloppy kisses to the underside of his cock, occasionally running your tongue along the crest just under his head, noticing the way it bobbed when you did.

“Where is she, I’d hate to leave without showing her how grateful I was for that wine to get me through a rather dull meeting.”

“I can pass the message along to her.” You had begun nipping at his heavy balls, your hand working his shaft without getting too close to the head, worried you might bump against the table and give yourself away.

“I’d prefer to see her myself.”

“I’m sure you would, but she’s busy.” You could hear the smirk on his face and the air grew thick with silent again. You assumed Mihawk was scanning the room, eventually noticing the pile of clothes next to Crocodile’s desk, piecing everything together rapidly. You wished you could see his expression, see how his ringed eyes widened for half a second before bringing his expression back to placid.

“I suppose I’ll leave you to it then.” The quiet footsteps retreated to the door before you heard the door close again.

Crocodile pushed his chair from the desk, giving you enough room to crawl out from your spot. Before he could try to speak you were swallowing his cock just how you had tried to before being shoved under the desk. You had barely been at it for 5 minutes and your jaw was already starting to get sore but you couldn’t stop. You stroked whatever you couldn't fit into your mouth, which was progressively getting less and less but you were interrupted by his hand pulling you up by your hair. “I don’t plan on wasting my seed in your mouth.” Which was his way of saying you were doing too good of a job.

“Did he know?” Your voice was a bit gravelly but as he pulled you upright by your hair he smiled.

“Would you like it if he had?” Your lack of an answer was all he needed. “Should I call him back to watch?” He pulled the cigar from his mouth, putting it in his ashtray again before standing up. “Get on the desk, princess. I’m gonna’ make it all up to you.” You leaned back against the edge of the desk, struggling slightly for a second before you were able to scoot back further, spreading your legs as you leaned back, being mindful of the newest stack of papers.

He dragged his hook up your stomach, circling your nipples with the curved part of his hook watching with a smirk at how you arched into his touch, catching your lip between your teeth to try and hold back your whines. He slowly stroked his cock with his other hand, watching how your chest rose and fell quickly as you tried to catch your breath but with no luck. “I bet you wish he could see you now, hm?” You tried to look away from him but he was quick to guide your face back towards him with his hook. “I bet you got so wet when he called you his little rabbit.” You shook your head weakly. “Would you prefer to be splayed out on his desk?” You shook your head again, more sure this time. “No?” His hook slid down your body again, the curved back sliding between your folds as you bucked up to chase the pressure.

“I don’t want to be with him.”

“Who do you want to be with?”

“You.” He hummed, his grip on his cock tightened and his strokes slowed to a near stop.

“And who’s cock do you want?”

“Your’s.”

“Show me how wet you are.” Holding yourself as steady as you could on one elbow you used your other hand to dive between your folds. If it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by how wet you were, your slick pooling around your worked open entrance, but you know Crocodile found you the most attractive when you were splayed open and sopping wet. You finger fucked your self for a second, trying to gather as much slick as you could before pulling your digits out, separating them so Crocodile could see your arousal webbed between them. “And who got you this wet?”

“You.” You were getting annoyed with his questions, you gaze struggling to meet his instead of looking down at his cock.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” There was irritation in his inflection, he took pressing into your chest to push you down flat against the desk.

“I-I just w-want you to fuck me.” He dragged his burning hot cock along your folds, watching it glide with extreamly ease through your slick but never pushing against your entrance, much to your frustration.

“You know giving me attitude isn’t how you get what you want, unless what you’re hoping for is more neglect.” He continued rubbing his cock between your folds, the sight of his size compared to you never ceased to concern you, despite having been fucked by him countless times you always had the concern of what if it doesn’t fit?

“Daddy please.” His hook slid down your body, wrapping around your left thigh to pull it open even more, pulling your foot up to perch on the edge of the desk for leverage. His other hand abandoned his cock to grab your right thigh and press it against your chest, giving him more control over you as he pressed his cock into you finally.

The stretch always burned, whether you hadn’t had sex in weeks or less than 24. For all Crocodile is, ruthless, greedy, cruel, he was extremely conscious of his size in comparison to yours. When you bared your teeth at the stretch he leaned over you, pausing halfway inside of you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shushing you. “You’re doing so good for me, just relax.” His voice was quiet, this tone was one reserved only for you.

“It’s b-been so long it hurt-s.” You pinched your eyes closed, feeling tears prick at the corners.

“I know princess, I know. Just relax and I’ll go real slow, we have all the time in the world.” His hand slipped between the two of you, rubbing gentle circles on your clit in hopes of getting you more wet and distracting you from the discomfort. “You’re such a good girl for daddy.” He pressed his hips into you again, slowly. You could feel every inch of him bully its way into your body until his head was pressed against your cervix, finally fully inside. “Look how good you’re doing, how’s that feel?” His forehead was pushed against your’s, his eyes glued to your expression, waiting for you to open your eyes. You could smell his smoke on his breath mixed with his expensive scent, you could feel his warm breath puff out over your face as you slowly opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was his scar, stretched over the bridge of his nose, then you finally met his grey eyes that were glued to you. “How’s it feel?” He repeated, this time a bit more stern.

“It’s getting better.” he hummed in acknowledgment.

“Suppose I should do something to distract you, what do you think?” You nodded, your doe eyes making him want to ravage you but he forced himself to hold back, admitting to himself that it had, in fact, been quite a while since you two had had sex and he knew his size was a struggle for someone half his size. “Lean back for me, baby girl.” He straightened up enough to prompt you to lay back, your hands out at your sides waiting for his next move.

With his cock still nestled inside your tight walls he leaned forward again, lips pressing kisses from your belly button to your clavicle, before branching off and trailing kisses to your nipple. You expected him to run his tongue over the hard bud, to tease you until you were writhing on the desk, but instead he sucked on it, drawing cries from your lips. He could feel you relax around him and all he wanted to do was throw your legs over his shoulders and fuck you so hard he would have to carry you everywhere with him. But he resisted. Upon instinct, hands grabbed his head keeping him close to your chest as he suckled. Your fingers carded through his slicked back hair, something you rarely ever got to do, especially not during sex. But you had been such a good girl, he would let you have this one.

“D-daddy I think-“ You got caught off by him pulling his cock out, not entirely but enough that a high pitched gasp slipped from your lips and cut your sentence off prematurely.

”What was that?” He released your nipple and pulled away from your skin, your arms opting to move to his neck rather than letting him go completely.

“I need you t-to move, p-please.” He obligated, slowly thrusting back into you, hoping you weren’t still uncomfortable but taking it slow on the off chance you were.

“How’s that feel, princess” You took a deep breath, your head lolling backwards.

”Feels so good, daddy, so good.”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?” You shook your head, your arms slipping from around his neck as he stood up straight, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder, the other dangling limply off the desk. ”Good, now I want you to do something for me.” He leisurely fucked you, enjoying how your walls no longer resisted his intrusion.

“Anything.”

“I want you to be as loud as you want, let that pesky Mihawk know whose cock you want.” You loved when he was possessive of you, you wouldn’t have been all that surprised if he called Mihawk in to watch him fuck you, and frankly, you wouldn’t have protested that in the least. ”Think you can handle that?” You nodded, a breathy yes the only thing you could really manage. The small part of your brain that wasn’t lost in the pleasure of Crocodile’s cock finally fucking into you wondered if Mihawk really was still around, if he actually would hear you. But that part of your brain wasn’t able to function for much longer once you were put into a mating press.

Your moans flowered from your open mouth like the sound of rushing water from a river. He always tried to muffle his own sound, pressing his face into your neck when he felt his own peak rapidly approaching. “Fuck princess, never felt a cunt like yours.” The desk was shaking from his strength, the stack of papers beside you was beginning to shift.

“Croc-co, fuck it f-feels so good!” You wrapped your arms around his wide back, digging your nails into the expensive silk back of his vest. He was past the point of his toying, unable to put together a sentence the only sounds coming out of his mouth were animalistic grunts into your neck.

“Gonna’ fill you up so good, do you want that baby girl, do you want me to fill that greedy little cunt of yours?” You tried to speak but every time you opened your mouth all that came out were a slew of moans. His hand slid down your thigh and found its way to your clit, his thumb rubbing it in uneven circles as his cock pressed against your cervix repeatedly. “Are you going to cum?” He lifted his head from your neck so he could see you, see your cock drunk expression as you nodded. “Ask me for it.”

“D-daddy daddy please, please let me cum, I wanna cum around your cock!” Your words were sloppy and punctuated by moans but it seemed to appease him. His thrusts changed, his pace uneven and the force was enough to knock the stack of papers off the desk, not their either of you noticed.

He came first but the feeling of warmth that spread through you as he pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit was enough to force you over the edge seconds after. Your back arched off the table, your toes pointed and tensed around his shoulders. There was no doubt in your mind that if Mihawk were still aboard he was extremely aware of what was going on in this office.

Crocodile’s thrusts slowed until eventually he stilled. You were trying to catch your breath but it seemed impossible, especially with the weight of his entire body on top of you. You wanted to move, to pull your legs off his shoulders but you didn’t want to risk him getting up and going back to work. He didn’t stay on top of you for long, eventually straightening up and looking you up and down, all while his cock was still nestled between your walls.

He reached for his cigar, bringing it to his lips and pulling hard on it, hoping some of the embers would flare to life again. He guided your legs off his shoulders, pressing a kiss to your ankles as he did so. As he pulled his cock from your cunt slowly, he watched as his cum began to work its way out of you. Idolly as he stood over you, cigar in his mouth he ran his big fingers in the milky liquid that was cascading from your fucked hole, almost trying to push it back into you.

You still were out of it, your hips bucking from overstimulation anytime he grazed your clit. “Do you feel better, baby?” He wiped his fingers on your thigh before cupping your cheek, pulling your unfocused gaze to him. You blinked a few times, trying to unblur your eyes as you nodded.

“I think I may need you to carry me to bed.” He chuckled, stepping away from you for the first time since you had come over to his desk. He picked up your discarded clothes before returning to his spot between your legs, taking a second to stuff his cock back into his slacks and do them up again. Carefully and with great care he guided you into a sitting position and helped you pull your dress over your head, leaving your panties, bra and socks on his desk before picking you up bridal style. You leaned against his chest as he carried you out of the office, the steady sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Sleep that you were quickly pulled from. “I take it the second stack of papers has yet to be looked at?” You heard the faint sound of a wine glass being placed on the board room table as you passed by the open doors. Crocodile paused in the doorway, turning to look at him for a second before smirking,

“Let me put my little rabbit to bed then I’ll go look at them.”

[blurbfics]

There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part four]

Summary: Time skip. Cassian decides Eowyn could benefit from a little extra training. a.k.a., let the slow-burn begin

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: swearing, sexual implications, male/female sparring, shy!Azriel, use of the word "ginger" to refer to Eris

Minors, do not interact.

a/n: thank you so much for accompanying me in this journey! let's figure out where this story is headed together, shall we?

part one -- part two -- part three

"I just kept hoping, I just kept hoping

the way would become clear.

I spent all this time

tryna play nice and fight my way here.

See, I've been having me a real hard time

but it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright."

Alabama Shakes, This Feeling

CASSIAN POV

He knew, from the moment he woke up, that today would be a good day.

Knew it when he woke up with his mate’s lips wrapped around his cock, knelt with her ass up from between his legs as she looked up at him, her gray eyes lit with knowing mischief as she roused him in his second favorite way of waking up (second only to his gaining of consciousness from between her thighs, a game they liked to play– how long until Cassian realizes he’s being suffocated by his mate’s pussy?)

Knew it when he went down to breakfast, to find his usual porridge, the gruel made better when his mate added those tiny dashes of cinnamon and allspice she’d been obsessing over since Eowyn began to introduce a myriad of spices she assured didn’t carry empty calories and made everything taste better.

But getting punched in the face? That solidified his assessment for the day.

The sound of bones hitting flesh was not an uncommon sound in the training ring. After all, that was what they were there to do. But the sound of Eowyn’s small but fierce fist connecting with the side of his jaw echoed through the ring with such a thunderous smack that everyone stopped what they were doing and focused only on them.

When he saw Eowyn’s wide, almost fearful eyes, the only part of her face revealed from her coverings, the only thing he could do was grin in reply. “Think you can do that again?” He challenged, moving his jaw side to side to relieve the familiar ache.

Instantly, the fear disappeared as she remembered that this was what they were here for and she had done absolutely nothing wrong.

It had been a few months since the young priestess had joined their little group of Warrior Priestesses, as he liked to call them. Although he had to admit he was rather partial to his mate and her friends, Eowyn had been quick to sneak her way into his limited list of favorite people. The girl was strong, both in character and when it came to the constant drilling they did. She was determined and always hyper-focused, never hesitating to repeat a motion or new move again and again until she got it right— did so, with little to no complaint, as well.

She was funny in a strange way, sharing that dry wit that he always came to associate with his mate, one of the reasons he believed the girls got along so well. And she was incredibly smart. He had no need to see her septganiums to know that, she simply oozed a certain sense of knowing. One had only to take a look at her deep dark eyes (in the rare and far between occasions she didn’t cover her entire head, that is) to see that shrewdness in her eye, as if she was in on a joke with the world at everyone else’s expense.

But most of all, she was fast.

The first time he’d seen her and Azriel go at it during their hand-to-hand combat sessions (as she was the odd-fae out when the females paired off to spar), he hadn’t hesitated to insert himself, practically trembling with excitement as he proposed a trade with his brother. Azriel could train with the three Valkyries, as they were honing in their sword-fighting and everyone knew that swordplay was Az’s area of expertise, while Cassian gave Wynnie a whirl, he had said, winking at the priestess whose only reply was to jut out a hip and rest a hand on it in an endearingly sassy way.

He hadn’t missed the way his brother’s jaw clenched in annoyance despite his otherwise unmoved face, as he merely nodded once, stilted, and left them to spar. He also hadn’t missed the fact that he could often feel his brother’s penetrating gaze on them whenever Cass had to physically adjust Eowyn’s elbows or whenever he landed a slightly-too-hard blow upon the young priestess (who actually took the jabs with much more grace and sportsmanship than others he knew— I’m looking at you, Rhys— he called out into the open void of his head in case the High Lord was eavesdropping).

But today of all days, Eowyn’s training had paid off. Months of hard training and half-taunting her had culminated into the perfect moment where she had landed a concise and heavy blow to his jaw, in a manner much too fast and skilled for him to catch immediately.

He had never been more proud of her.

Surprise gone, she smirked at him from under her covering, eyes glinting with mirth, “I’m about to drop you like a sack of potatoes.”

Grinning back, he got in position, wings ruffling slightly and beckoned her to try.

—

Although no one had the remotest intention of allowing any of the Valkyries near the upcoming Blood Rite, Cassian and Azriel had decided that the obstacle course from the previous year had been an invigorating and perfect team-building success.

The Valkyries, both the new and the slightly more experienced, continued their tradition at the end of each training session to attempt to cut the ribbon, not so much as the true Valkyrie rite of passage, but out of respect and tradition for their predecessors. The obstacle course had been something that was itching at Cassian’s brain again and he was looking forward to seeing what this batch of Warrior Priestesses could do.

Thus, he had dragged Azriel over to the kitchen table that same night to begin to brainstorm possible courses for the girls that didn’t overlap with what they had done before. Thankfully his brother was an endless pit of ideas, some more fatal that others, but all so concise that Cassian knew Azriel had been planning this for much longer than he thought.

Yawning behind his mug, Cassian inspected his brother before taking a sip from his lavender and chamomile tea, yet another addition to his routine influenced by Eowyn. The reminder of the young female brought a sudden idea to his mind.

“What do you think of Eowyn?” He asked his brother casually, trying to remember if he’d ever seen the pair interact beyond the basics of training.

Azriel, to his credit, didn’t choke on his own tea, exactly, but Cassian— not the most observant by nature but also not an idiot— noticed the way his brother seemed to tense, his breathing halting before painstakingly exhaling out the smallest hint of a shudder, his eyes suddenly fixed on the fruit at the center of the table.

“What… do you mean?” Azriel asked slowly.

Cassian chuckled lightly, a little confused as he looked at his brother in a way to say what do you think I mean? Just exactly what I asked.

“She punched me in the face today,” Cassian stated obviously, as if that hadn’t been the talk echoing through the mountain all day long. His brother looked up at him and blinked, face blank. 

Cassian took that as encouragement to continue, although he found himself slightly concerned at the fact that he had to spell it out for him. “She’s skilled. And she works hard, wants to work hard,” he emphasized. “I mean she hasn’t said anything to me, but I think some extra training would do her good.”

“You want her to train more?” His brother seemed to gather his composure, and although his strange behavior sparked a little tendril of interest in Cassian, he let it go for the moment.

“I want you to train her more,” Cassian corrected, placing his clasped hands on the table in a manner he’d seen Rhys do one too many times.

“Why don’t you do it?” Azriel bristled.

“Because I have courier duties with what’s-his-ginger-face.”

“And you assume I have nothing better to do with my time? Weren’t you assigned that job specifically because I was too swamped with work?”

“But all that shit with Briallyn is over and done with, and we haven’t heard a peep or anything related to Koschei in months,” he took another sip of his tea, making a mental note to send Eowyn some flowers or something. He’d quickly gotten addicted to his night tea, almost as much as the fancy roasted beans she liked to grind together and brew for him and the other girls whenever Nesta had them over for lunch. “That is, unless you want to take back your place and deal with that pompous asshole?”

Cassian thought about it. “Actually, that does sound better.”

“No,” Azriel spoke with such finality that Cassian could only stare at him. Azriel cleared his throat, “you know I can’t stand that prick.” He looked away and sighed, “alright, I’ll train her.”

“If she even wants to,” Cassian chuckled. “I know you don’t stay here as much as you used to, but you should consider coming back here if she agrees. And don’t start with that ‘I don’t want to intrude’ bullshit. Wynnie hangs around here all the time and we barely even see her.”

“That’s because she’s always in the greenhouse.”

“And how would you know that?” Cassian couldn’t help but prod, disregarding his earlier decision to leave things alone. Azriel only motioned to his shadows, eyebrow raised. Cassian continued, although with no small amount of doubt at his brother’s nonchalance. “You know, it’s actually been pretty nice having her around. Granted, she’s always talking to herself, but she’s got good taste,” he brought the tea cup up in mock salute.

“You don’t have to convince me, I already agreed to train her” Azriel rolled his eyes.

But there was more there. Cassian knew his brother, knew him better than anyone other than Rhys, who could quite literally enter his mind, and he knew there was something there, something simmering under the surface.

He only hoped no one got burned in the process.

“Alright, alright,” he raised his hands in surrender, “we’ll ask her tomorrow then.”

—

As he settled down for bed after taking a long and quite enlightening bubbly bath with his mate, he listened as she shared the details of her day with him. Nesta’s back was to him as she sat on the bed, hands expertly plaiting her hair into a long loose braid as she recounted her day, asking him about his own as they had come to do as part of their nightly routine since they solidified their mating bond.

He shrugged as he told his wife about his day, tactfully avoiding his plan to reconstruct the obstacle courses that she and the priestesses hated so much, but recounted everything else, including his idea to have Azriel train Wynnie.

He noticed, as he noticed every fluttering eyelash and breath his mate so much as took, the way she tensed up slightly, back still to him before she swung her finished braid over her shoulder and settled into her side of the bed, eyebrow raised questioningly at him.

“What?” He asked immediately, “you don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s going to complicate things, that’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned, “has she complained to you? Am I being too hard on her?” He asked, suddenly thinking back to his interactions with Eowyn and trying to decipher if she ever expressed any discomfort or displeasure by the training. But damn, it was so hard to tell without being able to see her face properly.

“No, it’s not that,” his mate assured, immediately, knowing her mate well enough to know he’d spiral into a hole and start overthinking his friendship with all the priestesses while he was at it. “It’s just that..” she trailed off slightly, gray eyes turning up to think about her words, “you know… Gwyn hasn’t spoken a word to Azriel since you let it slip that he hated the dagger she gave him-“

“I apologized for that!”

“-yes, but she hasn’t spoken to him for two months. And Azriel has barely even noticed,” she huffed. “But do you know who Az can’t seem to take his eyes off?”

He knew this. Of course, he knew this. He had felt Az’s eyes on them on more than one occasion, and he knew well that his brother seemed to have a thing for unattainable and uninterested females.

He only frowned, not needing to answer.

“And Gwyn has noticed. Of course she’s noticed, she watches him like a hawk.”

Cassian settled into bed, pulling his mate into his chest. “You think there’s something going on between Az and Wynnie?” he mumbled to her.

“No,” Nesta said immediately, settling further into the spot between his shoulder and neck that she’d claimed as her own. “Wynnie wouldn’t do that to Gwyn.”

Cassian hummed, mind turning before coming to a decision. “But we can’t meddle in their business, Nes. I think Eowyn would really benefit from more training and I can’t do it myself, otherwise I would.”

“I know,” his mate sighed sleepily, “I’m just saying it’s going to be a proper mess.”

—

After training, a session no less grueling than the rest, but not quite as backbreaking as the obstacle courses they were going to face in the next few months, he called Wynnie over after her daily attempt at cutting the ribbon.

The practice had become a staple in their daily training, and every day the priestesses would stand before the ribbon, swords raised in their preferred manner of combat and would slice the swords down with precision, if not quite the necessary finesse required to cut the ribbon clean off.

“I know, I know, ‘it’s all in the wrist,’” she huffed when she approached them. 

Despite his own suspicions that his brother held a special interest in the young priestess that went beyond a trainer/trainee status, he hadn’t truly considered why until his conversation with his mate the previous night. After his mating bond with Nesta— no, after meeting Nesta, even while she was still human— he hadn’t bothered to look at females in any other way that wasn’t purely platonic or inconsequential. 

He knew Eowyn was a rather pretty fae, of course, even despite the scars she kept well hidden, but he’d never seen her as anything other than his mate’s friend. As his friend.

She was of average height, neither too tall nor too short. Her clothes were no different from the rest of the priestesses, if perhaps only darker tones, and she often wore what he thought were skirts but were only very loose pants that allowed for unrestricted, if only heavier, movements. She also lacked the circlet and stone placed upon the center of the forehead that most, if not all, priestesses wore, even over their face coverings.

He’d seen her face only a handful of times when he "accidentally" walked in on the females having their bi-weekly lunches, and although he couldn’t pinpoint every feature exactly, not wanting to be caught staring at her, he knew she was pretty and had possibly the darkest eyes he’d ever seen.

And perhaps it was that. Her eyes. So dark and expressive and full of knowing that had his brother in a trance, for when she approached Cassian and Azriel wearing only a mask-like covering over only the bottom half of her face— her eyes shining bright from the exercise and dark hair pulled away into two braids down her back, a few stray hairs rebelling against their captivity, his brother only stared and didn’t say. A single. Word.

“So, what do you usually do after practice?” Cassian asked casually, feeling the need to ease them into a conversation that truly shouldn’t be all that difficult to have.

She gave him a weird look, one eyebrow raising slightly, “Unless I’m needed at the library, I like to go to the greenhouse while the sun is still out and tend to the plants. Then I go back to the library and work,” she looked at him questioningly, “why?”

“How would you feel about a little extra training?”

She snorted, “you’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not,” he said seriously, glancing at his brother from the corner of his eye to see if he had anything to add, but his brother’s gaze only remained fixed on the young priestess, taking in the unfamiliar sight of her dark hair. “We think you could really benefit from a few extra hours of one-on-one training and-“

“Am I doing that badly?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing, “I thought this was all just to create a routine. To destress and gain strength and all that.”

“It is” he assured immediately, “and on the contrary, you’re doing great. We can see how hard you’re working and all the effort you put in, and we just wanted to offer you some—“

“You come back to the ring sometimes. At night, when everyone’s in bed,” Azriel spoke up, if perhaps a bit softer than was normal for him. “Do you have trouble sleeping?”

If she was surprised that he knew about her late night prowling, she didn’t show it. Her dark shrewd eyes scanned his face before meeting his eyes. “Sometimes,” she replied in the same tone.

“This could help you with that, if our group training isn’t enough,” Cassian added.

She considered their words for a few seconds and crossed her arms over her chest, finally nodding slowly. “How would it work? I just stay here and train with you both for another hour or..?”

“Well, it would just be Az, mostly. Maybe if I get a day off, I could stop by for a bit” Cassian clarified, “and we can work around whatever routine works best for you. If you’re needed at the library on any day, you can just let us know and we’ll figure something out.”

“To start, would you be willing to stay for another two hours, maybe three times a week?” Azriel asked.

She considered it for a second and then sighed, “alright. I can’t say I’m looking forward to getting my ass handed to me by the Lord of Shadows, but that should work out fine.”

Cassian snorted a laugh, glancing over at his brother to see his lip barely twitch in amusement and his ears turn red. Lord of Shadows, huh? Maybe not so unattainable and uninterested, after all.

“We start tomorrow,” Azriel said, a smile barely grazing his lips, hazel eyes shining bright.

part five

disclaimer: image is not mine. i found it on pinterest :D

taglist: @lilah-asteria @a-courtof-azriel @honk4emoboyz @feyretopia @mrsjna @buttermilktea11 @bravo-delta-eccho

[heavyhitterheaux]

“Maybe next time, check your surroundings”

You and Jack were currently trying not to look at one another because you knew that it would end up with the both of you laughing when Neelam was trying to be serious about the situation that occurred a few days ago.

However, that was short lived when you two made eye contact making Neelam’s face harden.

“This is NOT funny, you two.”

“Says who?” Jack asked her as he was trying to wipe away tears from his eyes. Seeing this sent you into a fit of giggles all over again.

“I swear the two of you wake up and ask yourselves what can we do to make Neelam’s job harder today and the two of you succeed every single time, I swear.” She responded as she rubbed her temples.

“Nee, come on. It’s not that big of a deal.” You told her as you laid across Jack’s lap and she instantly rolled her eyes.

“Not a big deal? A picture of your boobs are literally on the internet from your late night backseat shenanigans.”

“So are Rihanna’s.” Jack added and you quickly nodded.

“Oh, don’t even give me that. At least she was at an EVENT. The two of you were fucking in the backseat of Jack’s car.”

“Hmm, speculation! They don’t know that!” Jack yelled and you started laughing all over again.

“Do the two of you take anything seriously?”

“Define serious for us one time. And I thought it was a pretty good shot of my boobs anyway. Besides, we know you can make this whole thing go away.”

“Not the point Y/N!”

“Hey, at least I’m with my husband and not some random guy! Now that would send people over the edge. Besides, what's a little side boob action?”

“Y/N! THEY COULD SEE THE WHOLE BOOB! BOTH OF THEM! THE PICTURE IS SO CLEAR THAT THEY CAN SEE YOUR PIERCINGS IN THE PICTURE!”

“Oh, I hope they got a good angle of me, but it’s clear that they definitely did.”

“Hey, Nee, at least we didn’t break any beds this time.” Jack told her as he pulled you onto his lap and hugged you from behind.

“I will never forgive the two of you for waking me up in the middle of the night for that complete utter nonsense. Now I see why Urban says all of the time that the two of you make him sick.”

“I just love my wife, look how pretty she is. Stop hating.”

“We all know she’s pretty and no one is hating. You two are going to have 20 kids if you don’t get a damn grip.”

“He happens to always have a good grip on my thighs when he needs to.” You commented and Jack couldn’t help but to smirk.

“ENOUGH Y/N! ENOUGH!”

“Okay, are we done here? I need to go and get my wife pregnant.” 

Neelam sighed and knew deep down that the two of you would probably do it again and knew that there was no stopping you.

“Maybe next time, check your surroundings.”

“Sure, so they can get a show.”

“Y/N THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT!”

[jsmelodies]

Cassian thought it was supposed to be simple. 

Find the witch in the woods.

Convince said witch to give him Ataraxia.

Rescue the princess from the dragon guarding her tower, with said sword, from said witch.

If only the damned witch stopped getting in his way.

Written for @nessianweek Day 5: Behind Closed Doors

Because nothing says behind closed doors like getting to know a witch in the middle of the woods with no one around.

Read here on ao3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Cassian had a long time to think on the ride back to the palace. Once he cleared the thicket of the forest, he urged Ruby to go faster, settling into an easy canter for the remainder of the journey.

The sun was just beginning to hit the tips of the castle spires when he made it to the city streets. The children paused in their playing in the streets to watch him ride through the gates.

Ruby let out a snort as he slowed them down to a walk, and he flashed his typical easygoing grin to the children. For the first time, though, that smile felt ingenuine. 

Women gave him shy smiles as he rode by, nothing like the stern look of that witch in the forest. He hadn’t even gotten her name.

You want me to find you worthy? I don’t.

Was all of this just a lie? All of the years hoping he could be something better—something greater. What if he’d just deluded himself? What if he wasn’t worthy at all?

No one paid him any mind as he rode in. He wasn’t beat up like Kallon was, so there was nothing interesting to see. Cassian approached, sliding off of Ruby with one smooth movement.

Rhys and Azriel were already done for the day, placing their dulled practice blades back on the rack and leaning against the stone of the palace wall.

“I take it you didn’t have much luck,” Az said, noticing his frustration, and the lack of a princess on his arm.

Cassian considered not telling them the truth. He considered saying that he searched the woods all day without a single trace. But, he sighed and said, “I found her.”

Rhys frowned. “What happened? Can you remember?” he asked.

“Yeah, I remember everything. I messed up and insulted her. She struck a nerve, so I…”

Azriel watched him with an arched eyebrow. “You what?”

Cassian winced, knowing how what he was about to say would sound. “I may have implied that she didn’t have a soul.” 

Azriel let out a long, long breath. “Yeah. Alright, so you fucked up pretty badly.”

Cassian slid his gaze to Rhys, who had a singular eyebrow lifted.

“How important is this to you?” Rhys asked, his voice contemplative.

“I need to make it right.”

“Yeah, if there’s any chance of you getting that sword-”

“No,” Cassian said, cutting him off. “Regardless of that. I need to make it right.”

An honorable man wouldn’t have said what he did. And if by some chance he did, then that man would apologize. Rhys’ mother ingrained that lesson into him when he was just a boy.

He hadn’t meant what he said. It was all spoken out of anger, but it wasn’t okay. 

Cassian knew what he had to do.

***

He set out again the next morning. The witch wouldn’t try to kill him, he didn’t think. At least, not after he apologized. And he would apologize.

The ride through the forest was short, and his heart beat quickly in his chest for the entirety. 

He remembered the route back to her cottage with perfect clarity. She must not have spelled him, or whatever it was she did to Kallon, because he was able to follow the same path to her cottage, that thread pulling him along faintly.

It was almost like she was waiting to see what he would do.

He took a deep breath as he reached the edge of the line of trees, attempting to clear his head before he faced her again.

His eyes fluttered shut for just a moment. He could do this.

“I’ve asked you to leave. I won’t do it again.”

Cassian was dragged out of his daze by the words, and he opened his mouth, prepared to defend his presence, when he realized they weren’t directed at him at all.

Another man stood in the clearing, hulking and in full metal armor, like he expected a fight. Unfortunately, Cassian recognized that armor. Tomas Mandray. He stood with his sword raised, ready to attack.

The witch was in her doorway, clad in the cloak from yesterday, gripping it firmly around her body. As if that cloak was her own form of armor.

The woman didn’t deserve this. It didn’t matter what Cassian’s opinions were, or anyone else’s for that matter. She deserved to exist without fear of being harmed or killed.

As a knight to the kingdom, he would ensure she could.

“Tomas. That’s enough,” Cassian said, making the last few steps into the clearing.

“What are you doing here?” Tomas asked, sneering. 

They’d never gotten along, only ever exchanging stiff pleasantries before both going on their way. He had a feeling this conversation would not even come close to being that.

“The same as you, I imagine,” Cassian said, getting off his horse. “I’m here for the sword.”

A lie. Well, partly. 

“Then you understand the witch needs to die,” Tomas said. “They’re a blight on our kingdom, and need to be killed.”

The look on Tomas’ face, however, implied that wasn’t where his intentions ended. Cassian felt the rage bubbling under his skin, that if he hadn’t shown up, the witch might have been forced to deal with that.

“You don’t need to kill her,” Cassian said. “She’s just minding her own business. Leave her be.”

“Whatever,” Tomas said, turning away from Cassian, raising his sword once more.

The witch retreated back inside a step, but it was enough for Cassian to see that she was well and truly terrified.

Before he knew it, he’d moved and his sword was at Tomas’ throat. He would kill him, one of his fellow knights, if it came down to it.

“I won’t say it again,” Cassian said with a low voice. “Leave her alone. Take one more step towards that door, Tomas, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.”

The other knight’s eyes narrowed. “Whose fucking side are you on?”

“There are no sides. I just have basic human decency.”

It turned out his intervention was unnecessary, however, because the next moment Bryaxis had jumped in between Tomas and Cassian, hissing up a storm.

Tomas took a single step back, raising an amused eyebrow. “What’s her stupid cat going to do?” he muttered to himself, aiming to kick him aside with his foot.

Somehow, Cassian knew before it happened that it had been the wrong thing to say. Bryaxis shifted into a snarling beast with long, sharp claws that curled into the ground. In a moment, his teeth were as long as Cassian’s forearm and he stalked towards Tomas, black fur bristling on his neck and back.

Bryaxis stood almost three times taller than the man, and he looked ready to tear Tomas’ head clean off of his body.

“Oh, fuck,” Tomas said.

He held his sword out with shaking hands, prepared to fight. At least, until Bryaxis roared in his face.

Then the coward ran. He dashed back towards his horse tied to the edge of the clearing, Bryaxis snapping at his heels for the first few steps.

His horse’s eyes were milky white with fear, and she reared, yanking Tomas so hard that Cassian thought his arm might be pulled out of his socket.

Tomas yanked the horse back down. “You stupid beast!” he seethed, climbing up onto her back and digging his heels into her side until she uneasily started running through the trees.

Cassian would have let out a sigh of relief, if getting rid of Tomas was the only challenge he faced. But Bryaxis turned, still in his beast form, and eyed Cassian and the sword still at attention in his hand.

Don’t mind Bryaxis. He doesn’t bite, unless you do first.

Praying that the witch had told him the truth yesterday, he dropped it, raising his arms placatingly. “I, uh, I don’t want a fight,” he said. 

Bryaxis prowled closer, his breath smelling like a rotten carcass. When was the last time the woman cleaned his teeth? Did he even allow her to clean his teeth? 

Bryaxis huffed in Cassian’s face, and heat prickled at his ears. But then Bryaxis stepped back and sat back on his haunches, letting out a small groan. Within a few seconds he shifted back into a cat, weaving through Cassian’s legs and purring once more.

It didn’t set him at ease. His heart still hammered in his chest. Now he knew what had left Kallon in such a state only a few days ago.

It was safe to say that he had no intention of getting on Bryaxis’ bad side anytime soon.

“So,” he said. “Not a cat.”

The witch hummed anxiously, her eyes on the treeline. He took a deep breath as his heart settled, then he dared to approach her in the doorway.

“Will he remember?” Cassian asked, as she watched Tomas disappear.

“No,” she said, her voice distant. “He’ll forget almost everything as soon as he’s about a mile out.”

“Bryaxis took a long time to step in,” he commented. It was a question, of sorts, of why the witch had the cat wait.

She merely sighed. “I knew him once. I wanted to see if he’d changed. Apparently, he hasn’t.”

If it was even possible, Cassian hated Tomas even more—for crimes that he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d committed yet. Something about this woman had him coming to her defense, even though he was the last person who should.

He’d insulted her, and she probably wanted nothing to do with him. Even still, he wasn’t going to leave her with the likes of Tomas, Bryaxis or no.

She was rattled, that much was clear. As much as the rest of her was an unrelenting fortress, it was her eyes that gave her away—wide as they continued to watch the spot that Tomas disappeared through, not an ounce of silver anger to be found.

He needed to get her mind off it, off him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said softly, laying a hand on her wrist. “Let’s go inside. He’s not coming back.”

It was instant, the way everything shifted. That nervousness shifted to indignation. Fear to bitterness. 

Cassian loved storms. As a boy he’d stay up listening to them rattling the windows, streaks of lightning spreading across the sky. Something about them soothed him while scaring others, and he felt safe listening to the long rolls of thunder.

And she was one, staring him down with pure electricity. She could strike him down with one single blow if she wanted.

Silver returned. There she was.

“I don’t recall extending you an invitation.” Yesterday, her words hadn’t been so distant. Short and snarky, yes, but there had been an undertone of sly amusement before he’d well and truly messed everything up. “I thought I told you to leave yesterday.”

“You did.” 

“Then why are you here?” she asked.

Cassian still didn’t know exactly what he’d say once he got here, and convinced her to listen to him. But he needed to say something.

He thought back to Tomas leaving, and the comment she made when he did.

“You said you wanted to see if Tomas had changed,” Cassian began. “So? Do you think a man can change?”

“What are you getting at, Sir Cassian?”

“It’s just Cassian.”

She let out a small huff, and asked again, “What do you want, Cassian?”

“I came to apologize,” he said. He could feel her watching, studying him with those pale blue eyes that he wanted more than a mere glimpse of. “How I spoke to you was out of line, and I’m ashamed of it. I’m sorry.”

“Anything else?” she asked. “You came all the way out here just to apologize?”

“Nothing else,” he said. “I am truly sorry.”

Her lips set into a line as she thought. The seconds ticked by, and he had the suspicion that she would tell him to leave again. Would once again call him unworthy.

But then, she did the last thing he expected. The set of her shoulders relaxed, and she gave him the tiniest dip of her chin in acceptance.

“I respect a man who can admit his mistakes.” 

She took in a breath, as if she were considering saying something else, but then she let it go. “Come inside. You’re helping me today.”

And that was that. Cassian spent the rest of the morning doing as the witch instructed, chopping and scraping and grounding until his hands were sore. He found that he didn’t mind, that it was nice to put his sword down for a little while. 

While they were cleaning up, Cassian couldn’t help but wonder. He asked the question before he could think better of it.

“What does this matter to you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why do you care who the princess marries?”

“You’re moving into dangerous territory,” she said. “Remember what happened yesterday?”

“Answer it anyway,” he said, “You know her, don’t you?”

“This is how you wish to win me over?”

“Not really, I was just curious.”

For a while, he didn’t think she’d answer. 

She handed him some mushrooms from the other side of the clearing, asking if he knew how to cook. He sighed and brought down a pan from the rack he ran into the day before, assuming the conversation was over.

The mushrooms and a few other vegetables spit and popped in the iron pan, and the witch was happy to watch as he cooked for both of them.

While his back was turned, she said, “I do know her. We grew up together.”

That hadn’t been what he was expecting her to say. He didn’t know why he imagined her growing up solely in these woods, outcast from society. Ignorance, maybe.

“You grew up in the castle?”

“You could say that.”

The answer roused a much longer list of questions, ones he didn’t think she’d be willing to answer.

Who are you, that you know the princess so closely? Why distance yourself out here? Just…why?

“Who are you?” he asked. He moved the now finished vegetables to the side, approaching her at the table. 

“No one you would know,” she said.

She loved to evade his questions, he realized. Or, possibly, there was something about opening up to him that absolutely terrified her.

“Can I look at your face?” he asked.

She didn’t seem to like the idea of that, letting out a huff and leaning back in her chair. “I think you’ve seen enough, haven’t you?”

“I don’t think I have,” he said. 

She didn’t make a sound. 

“If you’re no one that I know, it shouldn’t matter, right?”

She didn’t outright deny him. Instead, she seemed to ponder over what he said, and she stood and took hesitant steps forward until she was right in front of him.

“You can’t tell any of the others what you see,” she insisted.

He felt it in the air, how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be. He’d make sure he never gave her a reason to regret it.

“I won’t. I swear it, on my honor.”

She inhaled sharply, then gave him the slightest nod in permission.

He took the edges of her hood in his hands. Even before he brought it down, he could almost see what was underneath. But when it was down fully…

He couldn’t say a word. Not when the angles of her face were so striking, when her beauty was so absolutely devastating that Cassian thought he might crumble.

Just as he suspected, perfect, golden brown hair framed her face, and her eyes were the most enchanting shade of blue-gray. She was young, perhaps a year or two less than his twenty four. And as embarrassing as it was to admit, Cassian had a purely male reaction.

He simply couldn’t speak, unless the word was one syllable and absolutely meaningless. So he didn’t.

This woman would be his undoing. He couldn’t come back again, because who knew what strings they would pull if he did. Whose bed they might end up in, what bridges they couldn’t uncross.

No. It had to end today. As much as he hated it, it had to end today. The witch had her life, and he had his. 

He resisted the urge to reach for her, instead barely managing to keep the fabric of her cloak between his fingers.

“See? Nothing to look at,” she said, being the first to break away.

Cassian disagreed.

***

In the late afternoon he found her on the edge of the fenceline, a book in her hand while making a practiced motion with her arm.

She was speaking softly, repeating the same phrase over and over, and he could see the soft glimmer of her magic taking hold on the perimeter of the property.

Her magic—he didn’t have words to describe it. It held a silver shimmer, and when it concentrated it almost looked like silver fire.

She was warding, he realized. He didn’t know why he expected something else.

“You have defensive magic,” he said.

She paused in her incantation, and the silver fire faded in small wisps. “That surprises you?”

“If I’m speaking honestly, yes,” he said. “Witches don’t have the best reputation.”

Thankfully, she didn’t get upset by it. She merely asked him another question.

“Yet you came to my aid. Why?”

Her eyes met his, the setting sun making her hair look like molten gold. “Because I don’t know the whole story.” 

He added, “And I want to know it.”

She stood there like a queen, watching him with proud eyes and a stance that he’d seen time and time again with his fellow warriors.

He had to admit, she was striking. He’d seen a lot of beautiful women, but she surpassed mere beauty. She was everything strong and fierce and commanding, and he couldn’t for the life of him explain why he was so drawn to it.

She must have seen something true in his face, because her next words were, “Come.” 

Cassian made his way over until he was standing at her side. He stood close enough so that he could see the drawings in the book over her shoulder. Now that he was next to her, now that she let him closer, her voice turned softer. Not by much, but enough that he could tell that she was trying to connect with him in her own way, by sharing something precious to her.

“So little of what I do revolves around curses and jinxes. Most of what I do is this, and healing,” she explained.

“Do you ever perform those?” he asked.

“Would it make you think differently if I said yes?”

“I think it depends.”

She returned her attention to the book, not looking at him as she said, “I only sell those if it’s necessary.”

Cassian didn’t know what to do with that. All he had were the stories—of good men being cursed with misfortune, with no discernible cure in sight.

She went silent next to him, as if she was expecting the worst. 

Maybe she had a good reason. Maybe she deserved the benefit of the doubt. He’d assumed poorly yesterday, and that had blown up in his face, making him say things he regretted.

Today was a new day. He could choose not to believe the worst in her, and maybe she might do the same.

So he said, “Will you show me what you’re doing?”

The witch let out a soft breath, as if his lack of condemnation meant something to her. She held up the book a little closer so he could see.

“I need to draw the rune with my magic, and say the incantation,” she explained. “The drawings here are for practice. They don’t do anything.”

He looked over her shoulder, having to stop himself from reaching over and tracing her immaculate drawings with his finger.

As he pressed up against her, he resisted the urge to settle his hand on her waist. That would be entirely inappropriate. Her breath hitched as his chest brushed against her, a sound so lovely that it was pure music to his ears.

He cleared his throat. “So, you draw it in the air? And it just works?”

She chuckled. “Something like that.”

She pointed to one of the runes on the page she had open. “This one makes a shield. It’s strong enough to discourage unwanted attention from the men that show up on my doorstep.”

“I was able to walk in.”

She said without pausing, “Your attention was not unwanted.”

She could have locked him out without a second thought, after their fight yesterday. Yet she let him come back inside and apologize.

His mouth parted, then closed, but she continued on. “It’s not impenetrable, though. If any do get past it, that’s what Bryaxis is for.”

Like with Tomas.

“You’re trusting me with all of this?” was the only thing he could ask. A lesser man could sell out this information, leaving her for dead.

“I am,” she said. “Because I do think that under all that arrogance, and bravado, there is a good man. One that I don’t think would betray my confidence.” 

She turned, so that her chest was almost touching his.

Almost.

“Am I wrong?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t do that.” 

“I know,” she said simply.

Cassian shook his head. “I just don’t understand. You’re giving me the benefit of the doubt, when I have done nothing to deserve it.”

Her eyes softened. “You did the same for me,” she countered. “You put down your sword yesterday, and today, when most other knights wouldn’t hesitate to attack. That means something.” 

“That should be common courtesy.”

She shrugged. “It isn’t. It’s why I let you inside, and why I allowed you back today.”

“Your bar is exceptionally low.”

Her lips curved upwards. “Perhaps.”

She brushed a strand of her hair behind her delicate ear, and Cassian tracked the entire movement, not able to look away. “I’m sorry, too,” she said.

“For what?”

“For saying that I think you’re unworthy. I was angry, but I shouldn’t have said what I did. I believe you may be the most worthy of them all.”

Hope fluttered in his chest. “So, you’ll give me the sword?”

And just like that, it was gone—that moment of vulnerability between them dissolved. Her gaze hardened, and she turned away.

“You can’t marry her. My answer is the same.”

He remained silent.

“I know that’s why you came back. Why you…apologized to me in the first place,” she continued.

“I came back to apologize because I was wrong,” he said. “You hit a nerve, and I lashed out. But I do want to marry her.”

“You don’t know her. How can you marry a woman you don’t know?”

He didn’t have an answer to that, but he insisted, “I would be good to her.”

Her silence was a long one. “After what I’ve seen, I don’t doubt that. But my answer is no.”

She didn’t look his way again, returning to her warding. Her voice was quieter now, almost remorseful, as if she expected him to say something harsh.

He wouldn’t repeat his mistakes.

He stalked off before he could say anything he’d regret.

***

Her golden hair fell down until it tickled against his chest. She moved on top of him, naked and glistening, shaking as she took exactly what she needed from him.

The muscles of her thighs clenched around his waist as she let out a long moan, orgasming around him and slumping forward.

“Cassian,” she whispered.

He pulled her onto him, desperate to chase his own release.

“I–” he tried to say her name desperately. But it wasn’t there on his tongue, as much as he wanted it to be.

He was close. He was–

Cassian woke with a jolt, sweating as he sat up in his bed. His pulse threatened to explode in his throat, and he combed his now damp hair away from his face.

“Fuck.”

***

Before he could question what he was doing, he was saddling Ruby up yet again and making his way through the village.

Never mind that he’d sworn he wouldn’t go back. He told himself it was because there was still a chance he could change her mind. Yes. He could work with that.

The witch was tending to her garden, pulling weeds and gathering herbs into her basket when he arrived.

Her hair was pulled into a messy braid over her shoulder. He was hit with the urge to pull that braid apart, weaving her hair through his fingers as his dream came back to him in full force—the sound of her moaning on top of him, and the silver that blazed as she came around him.

Stop it.

He offered her his usual smile, and she pursed her lips in what he could tell was mock annoyance.

“You came back,” she said.

“I did.”

“My answer isn’t changing.”

“I think you’ll find I can be rather convincing.”

Play with me, he thought.

She seemed amused, if anything, and said, “I suppose we’ll see.”

They moved inside, the witch cleaning the dirt off of her hands. “You still don’t know her,” she said, pondering. “I do wonder how you intend to fix that.”

He dared to say, “And if I came to get to know you?”

She let out a huff of laughter. “Then I would say you were foolish, and to not return.” She gave him a knowing look. “But you haven’t said that, have you?”

He knew what she was truly saying. As long as they didn’t acknowledge it, she would play along. She’d let him come back.

“No,” he agreed. “I haven’t.”

But even still, her eyes glimmered. “Do try to change my mind, Sir Cassian. I’m curious to see what methods you employ.”

He almost smiled at her then, but before he could, the witch froze, looking distantly over his shoulder through the window.

He turned to see what she was looking at, but she didn’t let him.

“Don’t,” she snapped, stepping up and stopping him with a hand to his chin. It was stupid for his gut reaction to be that this was the first time she had touched him willingly. It was like he was a damn teenager all over again, desperate for any form of touch.

She was pressed fully up against his chest, her breasts pushing into him, and he blinked as he tried to pretend this was the most normal thing in the world.

Foolishly, he thought she might kiss him. But that was the lust-addled part of his brain speaking, for the witch then dragged him along and shoved him into a closet, hissing at him. 

“Do not, under any circumstances, leave this room unless I tell you to. And do not try to look.”

The door slammed in his face. He fell back into the clutter and scowled as something jammed into his arm.

She rustled around the cottage, clearly looking for something while muttering under her breath, before the cottage door opened.

There were two sets of creaking footsteps. Another feminine voice filled the room. They talked for a while, most of the conversation indiscernible, but he could pick up a word every now and then.

They were talking about a man, from what he could understand. Cassian leaned back, trying not to listen.

It didn’t work entirely. The second woman started crying, and the witch’s voice turned soothing, more so than he’d ever heard it.

“Here,” the witch said. “This will help. And if it doesn’t, you know where to find me.”

He heard the muffled sound of crying for a few more minutes, along with the occasional murmur of encouragement from the witch. Then the gentle croak of the door as the witch led the woman outside.

Once the door was closed, he heard the long, frustrated sigh that came afterwards. Then the door to the closet opened, the witch standing on the other side of it.

“You can come out.”

Cassian stumbled out of the dark closet, coughing up dust as he knocked over something wooden on the side.

The witch looked tired, her normally bright eyes dull and weary. Seeing this woman, whoever she was, had taken something from her.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“She doesn’t want anyone to know,” she said tiredly.

“She was crying. And you calmed her down.”

A muscle ticked in her jaw. 

“I know you men find this hard to believe, but I am not a monster,” she snapped at him, letting the bite leak into her tone. “Just because you all don’t have sympathy doesn’t mean I don’t, either.”

“I never thought you were,” he said honestly. After yesterday he thought they’d made some progress. But he was forced to admit that there were likely still misconceptions, on both their parts.

He didn’t know where the second half of what she said came from. But she’d been patient with him, so perhaps he could afford her the same courtesy.

“And I know it may still take some convincing, but I’m not one, either.”

He gave her a few seconds to calm down. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes while she sunk into a chair.

“No. I know you’re not,” she said, softer. “I’m sorry.”

He’d already forgiven her. 

He asked, “How did she find you here?”

“Anyone who needs me can find their way here with ease.” She waved her hand. “Magic.”

He had to admit, that made very little sense. But Cassian wasn’t a witch. He wasn’t well-versed in how their magic worked, or the intricacies of it. He was willing to learn, though.

He thought about how he’d just known where to find her, how he’d felt guided somehow. That string in his chest had brought him here, not just once, but three times.

Was that her magic? Or had it been something else? Fate, perhaps?

Cassian pushed those questions aside.

“Why does she come to you?” he asked.

The witch considered his question for a long moment before answering. “Some knights beat their wives. Take them against their will, too. Did you know that?”

That wasn’t what he was expecting her to say. He blinked.

He knew it happened. Though the knights in question never talked about it openly, for it was shameful to treat a woman like that, it did happen.

“I do.”

“You asked me yesterday if I perform curses and jinxes. I give them to the women who ask for them, and those that need them desperately. No one else.”

“And for the women who really need it, I help them escape,” she said. “Them and their children, if they need to.”

Not a soulless witch at all, he thought. He felt a lot of things then. Guilt for assuming and for his ignorance, and a newfound respect for the woman.

Her magic was beautiful. It healed and protected, which was a far cry from the stories and the warnings he had been raised on. Hell, even stepping into the clearing gave him a sense of peace that he now didn’t know how to live without.

“That’s very brave of you,” he said, his tone soft and serious.

Curiosity sparked in her gaze for the first time in this conversation. 

“What is bravery to you, Sir Cassian?” she asked.

“Just Cassian,” he said.

The corner of her mouth lifted. “Answer the question.”

Bravery was protecting those who needed it. It meant putting himself in between a beast and a child, risking himself so that others had a chance at safety.

He said as such. 

The witch gave him a small smile. “Bravery isn’t all swords and slaying beasts,” she said. “Do you understand?”

He’d never thought of any alternative. But after hearing that woman cry on the witch’s shoulder, and knowing that she was going to return to her husband…

It made him sick. He’d always known it happened, but had turned a blind eye because it simply wasn’t talked about.

Maybe there was more than one type of bravery, and more than one type of feat to be celebrated. 

What if there was more to being a hero than he thought?

For ages, he’d thought this forest was home to only monsters. But maybe not all monsters lived in the woods, and maybe not all heroes wore shining armor and lived behind palace walls.

Maybe one of those heroes was here, living among the beasts. As he looked at the witch’s face, he could see it. This woman was brave and honorable and charitable, and everything he wished to be. And she hadn’t slain a single monster in her life.

“I think I’m starting to.”

***

Her answer never changed. Not that he expected it to.

He was supposed to go rescue a princess, but this woman looked like a queen in her own right. And sometimes it was all he could do to stop himself from bowing at her feet and swearing fealty.

He found himself obsessed. There was no logical explanation for it. Cassian returned the next day, and the next, and every time the look on her face was a little less surprised. Every day, he grew a little bit less sure of his purpose. Of his destiny.

“Why do you keep coming back?” she asked. “You know my answer.”

“I don’t know.”

Because there’s something about you that keeps drawing me back. Because I can’t stay away. Because I want to know what your hair feels like between my fingers, and the way your name sounds on my tongue–

He forced himself to stop thinking about it. No. He couldn’t fall for the witch. That would be a disaster of epic proportions. He didn’t even know her name.

Never mind that he had come to love the silence of the woods, the only sound being the music of the wind darting through the trees and the babbling of the small creek across the clearing. Or that they so often fell into a gentle companionship that had Cassian staring in awe, watching her furrowed brow as she muttered spells and put together her potions.

He was merely…fascinated. And she was fascinated with him, too. That was all it was. She’d forget all about him once he fulfilled his quest, and then he’d go back, the princess in hand, and…

That unsettling feeling sunk in his stomach again. He’d never forget her. He didn’t know if he ever could.

“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked.

Her question broke him out of the cycle of his thoughts. She’d come inside from the garden carrying a basket of vegetables. He nodded, and she moved to go place the basket on the counter.

When she walked by him, though, he grabbed onto her wrist, forcing her to stop. 

“Tell me your name?” he begged.

Her gaze fell to where he held her wrist, then her gaze softened as she returned it back to his face. “My name is Nes.”

“Nes,” he said, sounding it out.

Somehow, it was perfect.

***

They stopped talking about the princess entirely. 

Cassian helped in the garden, or wherever she instructed him to. He learned that she loved music, and loved to dance when she was able. He wanted to bring her to the great hall someday to dance with her, although he didn’t say that, because he knew she would shut him out afterwards.

And she learned with great joy that he knew how to cook. She’d watch from the table, smiling softly as she pretended she focused on her notebook, but they both knew the reality of which they would not speak of.

She answered his questions. He answered hers. Slowly she opened up to him, and they both said nothing about the afternoons when she accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder while he read her books that were dirtier than he could imagine.

She listened as he told stories of him and his brothers growing up, and she smiled fondly as she spoke of her and her sisters. They had an interesting relationship, from what he could tell. She always avoided telling him any details about them, never even mentioning their names, which he found slightly odd.

She stopped asking why he was there, because internally they both knew that the answer had changed. So she didn’t ask, and he didn’t admit to anything. 

Knights came by every so often. She always shoved him in the cottage when they did, and he watched from the corner of the window as she wrapped her blue cloak around herself.

Most tried to attack on sight. Once Bryaxis shifted, only a few of them ever continued to hold up their sword. Oftentimes they went running, just as Tomas did.

Tomas was the only one that had rattled her, it seemed. He didn’t push, but she seemed grateful every time he asked if she was alright when she came back inside.

Stragglers came by sometimes, too. People who required her healing services, or a special potion or spell. Once she was drawn back to the city to help with a woman giving labor, and Cassian found himself back at the palace for the rest of the afternoon with no idea what to do with himself.

Today, Nes had him collecting larger stones from the edges of her clearing to place in her garden bed. He cupped water from the stream when he was finished, letting it wash away the sweat on his face, before heading inside.

Nes was struggling to reach a plate at the top of the cabinet.

“This damned…dish,” she muttered to herself, on the very tips of her toes, looking like she was about to fall over.

“Here, I’ll–”

He leaned into her space to grab it for her, his arms reaching high up. He pressed against the back of her body, and he felt every single curve up against his chest.

She seemed to realize the position they were in at the same time he did, slowly turning to face him.

She didn’t push him away. Instead her lips parted, barely an inch, and her hands tightened on the edge of the counter behind her.

Nes didn’t move as he pressed in closer, only a few inches away from her. He lifted her chin with his fingers.

There wasn’t a sound. In the pure serenity of the cottage, there wasn’t a single sound, save for the soft exhale from Nes as Cassian leaned even closer, and the slight rustle as the wind tapped on her glass windows.

Cassian didn’t know who closed the rest of the distance first. But before he could question what he was doing, his lips were on hers, soft and tentative as he explored. He gave in to his fantasy, bringing her golden hair between the pads of his fingers and inhaling her scent.

Honeysuckle. Loveliest when it bloomed in the secrets of the dark, sweet in its own private paradise. Somehow she bloomed out here, in a place with no light. Somehow she made it her own, made this dark corner of the world a little more lovely.

He shouldn’t be doing this. But that first brush of her lips had him deciding that he simply didn’t care. 

He didn’t care.

Whatever consequences came of this, he’d face them with honor. He couldn’t resist it anymore, this growing attraction that had turned to full blown lust and possibly even more.

Her fingers curled on the leather on top of his shoulders. He swallowed her gasp with his lips, pushing her open even further with his tongue, desperate to taste more.

Nothing mattered, if it meant he couldn’t have her at least once. Even if once was all they had. He’d selfishly let himself have a taste before their paths no longer had a reason to cross.

His hand cupped her breast, perfect and full in his palm. He pulled her up against him, letting her feel the growing desire he had for her, and her mouth parted as she let out a moan.

It was music to his ears. A symphony.

“I want you. Now, sweetheart.”

“I want–” she said, in the second between kisses, pulling him to her with anything her hands could grip. “Cassian.”

“Nes.”

She pressed her hips into him as he kissed down her neck, guiding her head back from where he held her hair with his other hand.

He brought that delicate skin of her throat between his teeth, nipping slightly, but not enough to bruise. She shuddered, exposing herself to him even further as he made his way down to her chest.

He was struck with it then. A taste never would have been enough. He would have found himself on the precipice here, time and time again, caught in a web he’d never be able to escape.

He wasn’t certain he’d ever want to escape.

“I’m taking this off,” he said. His hands circled around to the back of her gown, meaning to undo the laces. 

That was her line drawn in the sand.

Nes jolted, gasping as she broke apart from him and latching onto his wrists with her hands, seemingly remembering who they were and why, exactly, this was a bad idea.

“Wait.” Her hands tightened around his wrists. “Stop.”

He did instantly, pulling back to check on her. Her entire face was flushed, lips glistening. Her eyes were wide.

“Nes?” he asked, softer.

“I-” 

She didn’t have to tell him her heart was hammering. He could sense it, convincing himself he could feel it through her palms.

“Have you done this before?” He had to ask. Given that she didn’t invite anyone in here, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she hadn’t.

But she scowled, thankfully taking away that wide-eyed look, and said, “Of course I have.”

“Ok. Still, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry that I took liberties.”

He didn’t move a muscle as she leaned back. He monitored her every movement and facial expression, but she’d gone nearly unreadable.

Her hands still held his own with a death grip. With a blink she released them, in turn placing her shaking hands on his chest. 

“It’s getting dark,” the witch said. “You should go.”

It wasn’t getting dark. He’d stayed much longer only two days ago, only going back when the sun dipped behind the line of trees surrounding the clearing.

He didn’t want to go. 

“I should?” he asked. 

“Yes.”

He brought his hands down to her, stroking them softly. Nes tensed and moved back, and he immediately regretted it—doing something that made her uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine. You did nothing wrong. I did want it.”

She still couldn’t look at him.

“Nes,” he said, watching the shudder go through her from him saying her name. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right,” she said, her voice sounding like an echo. “Tomorrow.”

***

When Cassian arrived the next morning, the witch was waiting for him.

He’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as he thought about their kiss. The way she felt in his arms. How she said his name.

How she stepped away.

The gold of her hair once again made its way into his dreams, and he found himself being awoken by the sound of her name falling from his lips.

Nes.

Something was different today. It was quiet this morning. The chattering was merely a whisper as he left the palace. No humming filled the clearing when he arrived, and the birds didn’t chitter in the way they normally did.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say there wasn’t a soul to be found. But Nes was here, waiting for him. He knew that before he even walked inside.

He ducked his head under the doorframe to find her curled up in a chair by the window, her gaze set on the floor.

“Hi,” he said, offering an awkward smile in an attempt to break the silence.

Nes remained silent, keeping her eyes cast down, bringing her blanket tighter around her.

That uneasy feeling returned. Something was definitely wrong, he could tell. Cassian didn’t think he messed up too badly last night. She’d said she wanted it as he left. He shifted his weight to his other foot as nerves got the better of him.

“About last night—”

“The sword is on the table,” she cut in, not letting him finish. “You can take it.”

A glance confirmed her words. A large broadsword neatly sat on the table, gleaming in a way natural silver didn’t. He opened his mouth to protest, but his throat had gone dry. He couldn’t speak.

This was supposed to be what he wanted. Wasn’t it? It was why he told himself he was coming back every day, even if he knew it was a lie.

“You wanted to be worthy of a princess? Well, there’s the sword. I’ve deemed you worthy.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Silence fell. Then he said, “I don’t understand. Are we not going to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

He took a step forward. “Really?” he asked, with a soft calm. 

Nes glared at him. “I thought this was what you wanted. What other reason could you have for being here?”

Cassian stared at her incredulously. “You know that I’ve been coming here because–”

“No,” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t. I told you not to do that.”

What had she said that one time? That he would be foolish if she was the person he was coming to see. She had told him. And he’d stupidly gotten attached anyway. Tears threatened to burn in his eyes, and as he stared at the sword, he couldn’t help but wonder.

Didn’t she know? Didn’t she know how she now haunted his every thought, his every dream?

Her voice went softer, but it was still firm. “Take the sword, Cassian. Present it to the princess. You’ll have everything you’ve always wanted. You’ll have fulfilled your destiny.”

It felt wrong, leaving her. But he met her unflinching eyes one last time. Nothing softened in them. Nothing gave him any indication that she would change her mind.

“This is what you want?”

“I want you to be happy.” She swallowed, and looked away. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, Sir Cassian. Go and find it.”

“Cassian,” he said. “It’s just Cassian.”

“Right,” she said. But even as she said it, he knew. His name would never fall from her mouth again. Once he left through that door, she’d never have a reason to say it.

He didn’t want to walk through that door.

“It has been an honor, my lady,” he said quietly, before taking the sword she offered and tearing his eyes from her for the last time.

Cassian walked through the door.

[theoutcastwrites]

Belly kiss with whoever if you're up for it Ella <3

Of course! Thank you for the ask :) <3

Types of kisses list

Childe x Reader

[BELLY KISS] Love, care: a gesture of affection and protection.

The waves frothed as they doused the sands of Yaoguang Shoal in a slow, steady rhythm. An entrancing sight. It soothed you: the sound of the waves as they crashed onto the beach; the occasional squawk of the seagulls high above your head; the warm sunlight, which dried your damp skin and filled you with a tranquility you had been robbed of for so long.

Above all, your thoughts were silenced by Childe, whose head lay on your bare thighs.

Your legs were numb - had been for longer than you could count, now, but you refused to move. You doubted you would ever get the chance to be this close with him again; thus, like the greedy, greedy little thing that you were, you soaked in every bit of affection that Childe so selflessly offered.

The irony of your situation almost made you laugh. On the way to the shoal, Childe said, "it doesn't have to mean anything. We can just make this a friendly outing, yes?"

How quickly those words ceased to matter; moments later, you'd pulled him underwater to steal an illicit kiss, and he had eagerly reciprocated. You could still taste the salt on your lips. You hoped it would remain with you forever.

"Have you told anyone?"

You blinked - in confusion, at first, and then in slight disbelief. "No."

"Not even your friends?"

"No," you shook your head. "Am I supposed to?"

Childe peered at you. "Only if you want to. There's no pressure."

You eyed him for a moment. What sort of thoughts ran through his mind? He appeared much more thoughtful than usual - no longer was he the carefree, joyful Childe that you'd always known, but a quieter, softer version of himself. Was this the true him?

You wished you knew. This bond of yours never entailed something permanent. As you saw it, there was no love between you but a fervent longing for another's touch. The lines had been blurred for too long and you found it all too easy to get lost in the what-ifs - especially now. Each gift he brought awakened feelings that did not belong; each friendly outing left you wishing for something more.

Deep down, you wondered if Childe thought about it, too. About what had become of you, about what you could be.

Childe cleared his throat. "Your parents... do they live in the harbor?"

Your fingers stilled in his hair.

"Uh... No. Qingce village."

A beat of silence, and then, "it would be nice to visit, wouldn't it?"

Oh.

Suddenly unable to meet his gaze, you averted your eyes; had the sands of Yaoguang Shoal always been this interesting to stare at?

He must have known what he was doing to you - the naive hope his words evoked in you, the heat that spread to your cheeks at the mere implication. You swallowed nervously.

"Isn't it too soon?"

Childe chuckled in that charming, awkward way that you liked.

"Do you think so?" He asked. You dared to peek at him only to find that Childe was already staring at you. His eyes, gentle as the waves in the early morning, held a softness reserved just for you. Childe said, "I thought that we could..."

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest and you watched as Childe reached for your hand, still frozen in his drying hair. His touch was tender and sweet and every bit nerve-wracking - you didn't want him to ever let go.

"I thought that we could make it official," he murmured.

You opened your mouth in surprise. Every word in your head had dissipated, every thought had vanished into thin air. Childe took your stunned silence as a sign to continue.

"I'm going to leave Liyue soon and I know that it can be... difficult, to be with someone who's always away. I understand if this isn't something you want; we can be just friends if that makes things easier. But I..."

Childe swallowed, "I want to be yours. If you'll have me."

You swore your heart skipped a beat.

How could you ever say no to him? Having spent months meeting in secret, sharing sweet kisses in dark alleyways and exchanging meaningful glances in crowded rooms - how could Childe expect rejection after having cradled your heart in his hands for so long?

"I want that," you bit your lip, "I want you to be mine. It doesn't matter how long you'll be gone - I'll wait for you anyway. I promise."

You would have never said no - the wide smile on Childe's face reaffirmed that. His joy radiated off him in waves - spreading to you, making you break into a smile, too. He pulled your hand to his face, pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles.

"You really promise that?"

"Yes," you nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "I really promise."

Cheeks dusted pink, Childe turned sideways on the sand, muscles flexing with every movement. You weren't sure what to expect, at first; but then he wrapped his arms around your waist, and his lips found their way to the soft skin on your stomach. He kissed you slowly, sweetly, as if making a promise of his own, blind to the way his lips burned your skin.

You couldn't have asked for anything more.