#i say slight because it's not full blown but its there

[heyhilana]

Hi. I don't know if your taking requests atm but I love your work and was wondering if I could request. Here me out - javier pena x reader. Enemies to lovers trope. Something like they work together, have a fight and wake up in each others bodies the next day. They try to embarrass each other and make things worse. Deep down they both like each other but are so stubborn they don't want to admit their feelings for one another but eventually they do and change back to normal. Sorry if that's confusing. If you can't write it that's all good :) just thought I'd ask. Thanks again.

Hi lovely 😊 Thank you for your request, and I’m sorry that this took me a little while to get to as I've been a little busy. I love the idea, and I tweaked it slightly as I didn’t know exactly what you meant when you said change back to normal so I hope that’s okay! Also, I would’ve made this strictly hate fuck but Javi...he’s just too tender in his scenes to do a hate fuck fully LMAO like we all know that infamous scene where he pulls that girl’s hair and brings her flush to him so my point stands. But, hugs and love and as always, drink water. 💚

-

Summary: Two unlikely and rather animosity filled partners could accurately describe you and Javi. But after a shitshow of a meeting with the bosses, tensions are pulling at the strings that create a crescendo that’s undeniable in a random office you decide to walk into. But it’s the aftermath from the next day that threatens everything of detachment and realization.

A/N: Hi, lovelies! Just to remind you all, requests are open; if and when I need to close them, I will update my masterlist to say they are closed. There is more in my masterlist about who and what I’ll write about for notes. But beyond that, this was super fun for me to write, and I got to rechallenge myself. Also, thank you so much for 1k followers! I never thought I would reach that with my inconsistency, but it means the world to me that you guys enjoy my works and you want to support me :)) But for now, I hope you enjoy reading this! :)

Pairing: Javier Peña x !f reader (enemies/coworkers to lovers)

Warnings: (What can I say? I love a little spice) Hair pulling, spanking, rough grips, orgasm denial, foul language, f and m oral receiving, cum shot on ass, unprotected because this was unexpected hate fuck (but wrap it up), a little bit of degrading, but that's all I can label.

Word Count: 6.1k (You know what it be LMAO)

“You’re an asshole.” You spat, walking out of the boardroom and turning sharply on your heel down the hall.

Asshole was an understatement. Infuriating, jerk, jackass, arrogant, intolerable, the list could go on. Javier Peña, somehow your new partner when you were sent down here, and you would’ve chosen anyone else over him. If it meant peaceful, level-headed conversations, you would’ve even taken the secretary to be your partner. Being at his throat on an everyday basis was draining, lighting fires in you every time he got under your skin.

“I could say the same about you.” Catching up to you and jaw tightening, his presence was something you wanted to shake, but you couldn’t.

“You do it every day.” A dry laugh echoed from you as you walked into the empty office, turning on the lights.

“That’s because you give me a reason to.” You half sat on the desk as he leaned against it in the doorway. How could he be so calm while your blood was boiling, the tipping mark fading into the distance.

“Oh I give you a reason when you get your ass handed to you most days.” You hissed, venom laced in your tone as you folded your arms.

“Did we go to the same meeting because you got your ass handed to you as well in there.” You wanted to forget it all. Crosby and Noonan taking turns tearing into you both over negligence and overall stupidity. A waste of 15 minutes when you could’ve been home, far away from him, since he walked further into the room.

“That’s because your fuck-up got us here.” You tried to keep your voice down as you heard your superiors leaving the building. When you both heard the elevator door open and close, you knew there was no one else there besides you two.

“My fuck-up? It was you who didn’t trust my informant.”

“Because she lies more than she tells the truth! And why would I trust any girl who you’ve been fucking more than talking to.” He narrowed his eyes at you and walked closer, this being the closest you could tolerate since you could feel something brewing in you that you couldn’t place your finger on.

“What I do is my business. I don’t let it cloud my judgment.” He looked down at you, and you kept eye contact, the glare intensifying as you cocked your head slightly.

“You sure about that?”

“What the fuck are you implying since I’m not the one who slept my way up here.” A low blow. Rumors had traveled with you the moment you arrived. The only woman who was qualified for the job, every man was against you for supposedly taking their spot when they didn’t earn it. You worked just like everyone else did, and he was only doing it to get under your skin.

“Don’t you fucking believe that I slept my way up here when you sleep your way into information that leads to fuckups.” Deflection at its finest with him, but you weren’t having it. You were going to leave, but he closed that gap between you, his legs right on yours, and you sat more on the desk. His hands were on the desk, and he was dangerously close to you, your heart pounding out of anger and curiosity about what he would do.

“I don’t let a fuck get in the way of my job. You may be new here, but this is how it goes.” His eyes had never looked so dark before, and you were unsure of why you couldn’t break eye contact with him. Infuriating, yet the pool of desire had grown significantly when you moved your legs.

“You know what? Fuck you.” You spat at him. You could tell he was taken aback by your boldness, but he remained firm where he stood.

“Fuck you.” He enunciated those words, but when you saw the flicker down to your lips ever so slightly, you felt that small stoke of the flame reach new heights.

That first brush on your lips that turned into heady, almost feral kisses was nothing that you could expect. How did he manage to have impossibly soft lips, the odd taste of whiskey that made you drunk over him. The nibble on your bottom lip, the groan that did nothing to quell your desire except intensify it. How his hands rose up your arms to pull off your suit jacket, and his fingertips brushed your exposed collarbone. You helped him with taking off the jacket, discarding it on the desk, and kicking off your heels. He pulled off his jacket and threw it somewhere as you were unbuttoning his shirt as fast as you could.

“Someone’s excited,” He mumbled against your lips, unbuttoning the last button for you and taking it off. “This what you wanted?”

��Don’t let that ego of yours get any bigger,” You mumbled back, and he nibbled on your lip in retaliation. “You’re gonna tease me now?” You pulled back to pull off your blouse, moving it on the table again before you went to unclasp your bra in the front. He stopped you, doing it himself and watching your breasts fall, which made him groan.

“You’re the one teasing me.” He countered before his lips were back on yours with more ferocity that you didn’t think was possible. His hands traveled to your breasts, and yours went up and down his body, feeling him and finally understanding why those women would throw themselves at him. Why he was so confident because he felt amazing. Sure, his arrogance got under your skin, but now you wanted him skin-to-skin with you. You moaned in his mouth when he was playing with your nipples, to which he smiled against your lips. Damn him and all the reactions he could get out of you. Fuck him, you repeated in your head, but your body was begging for him to explore you. He left your lips and kissed down your jaw and to your throat, leaving chaste kisses until that one made you whine. The laugh that followed left you embarrassed and more turned on than you wanted to admit.

“I knew you were a little noisy but whining? Something finally coming out of that mouth of yours that I like.” With that glint in his eye from the window, you could see that he enjoyed all of it. Finally having you after months of being at your throat.

“Shut up already.” You feigned annoyance, but he saw right through you.

“Be careful what you ask for.” You couldn’t come up with a retort once he put his mouth on your nipple, his tongue twirling around it, sucking, flicking it. His other hand massaged your other breast, and you instinctively opened your legs more to let him slide in between you. Even with not being a fan of nipple sucking, he made it hot. You looked down at him and saw he was looking at you, eyes a little low, but his gaze never wavering. You put your hand in his hair and tangled in it, gripping a little when he sucked harder.

“Please don’t stop,” You whined further, grinding on the desk to get some friction. He shifted his mouth to your other breast to give it the attention it deserved, and his hands traveled down to your pants, unbuttoning them without a second thought. He pulled at the hem of them, you moved your hand out of his hair, and put your feet back on the floor to get out of them with him stopping with your breasts to catch his breath. He pulled your pants and panties down for you and kissed your hips, then your thighs, your calves, and when you kicked your pants off he put you back on the desk. You leaned back a little as he put your legs on his shoulders, kneeling before you. You gripped the desk for balance as he got close to your dripping pussy, that smile on his face something that would be imprinted in your mind for a lifetime.

“You sure you hate me?” Ever the one to still push your buttons, you rolled your eyes.

“I can’t fucking stand you.” Those little white lies that you both knew were meaningless as he put two fingers right near your clit and dragged it down on the slit, gathering up your slick in one go.

“You sure about that because she’s telling me otherwise.” He held up his fingers and, just like that, coated with your desire for him that you couldn’t deny without feeling foolish.

“Fuck me.” Double meaning as you knew you were in for it and you needed him to fuck you, he kissed your clit and licked gently, making you gasp.

“Gladly.” Flattening his tongue to lick up your hole, the slit, up to your clit, then sucking your clit, and you were gone. You didn’t know how loud you could get until now, hands tangled in his hair as he switched from sucking to tasting your slick near your hole, the wave of pleasure riding through your body with each passing moment. But when those same two fingers brushed at your hole, the small push before fully slotting them inside you, you forgot how good fingering could be. Curling at your spot, the pace that matched with each suck, the moans that vibrated against your clit. You were sure if there was anyone else in the building on a different floor, they would’ve heard you. But all those rumors surrounding your insufferable partner were true.

“So fucking sweet,” He moved his head up to say that and look at you, that look on your face of pure ecstasy was something he never wanted to forget. Biting your lip, eyes a little low, slightly flushed cheeks, and then trailing down your body to see the thin layer of perspiration glowing on your skin, he felt his dick twitch in his pants from that.

“J-Javi, please I-” The all too familiar feeling in your stomach, the intensity rising as he fingered you a little faster, made you clench around his fingers.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my fingers and make a mess? Déjandome usar tu coño así.” He dove back down to your clit to suck and lick just as he did before. You gripped his hair, and when he curled at that spot, you inhaled a sharp breath and let go, all the sounds you were holding back flowing out and the shutters washing over you. Riding you through it, he slowed his actions just as you stopped shaking, giving your clit a final kiss, and licking at your hole to make you jump. He then brought his fingers to his mouth and got up to show you him tasting it, the act making you clench around nothing when he pulled them out, and they were clean.

“Dulce, mami,” He mumbled before he kissed you, pulling down his pants hastily. You moved your hand down his stomach and palmed him in his boxers, surprised at his size. Even in his tight clothes, you never imagined it to feel this good, this thick. The stretch would be nothing like you imagined, making you pull away from him to get on your knees.

You pulled down his boxers and watched his dick spring up. The rosy red tip with precum leaking, the slight curve, the thickness, it was a sight for sore eyes. You looked up at him and licked your lips before kissing the tip and licking the precum to see him groan and grip the desk. You sucked the tip just enough to tease, making his jaw tighten. You enjoyed the stretch on your lips and jaw as you reached closer to the base. His hand was right at the back of your head, guiding you down nice and slow, coaxing you to take it.

“You can do it, baby. Take every inch of me.” That little praise made you go down to the base, lips touching that soft patch of hair before pulling away, spit dribbling at your lip. You spat in your hand and brought it to the tip, stroking slowly but squeezing just enough to make him hiss. He fucked himself into your tight grip, and you began to move your hand from tip to base, enjoying the way he opened up your grip with how thick he was. You sucked the tip and decided to move your hand down to his thigh to hold him in place to take him to the back of your throat.

“You feel so fucking good. Should’ve known with all that talking you do I should’ve stuffed your mouth.” His knuckles were almost white with how he gripped the desk, and you popped your lips off the tip to glare at him.

“God, you’re so infuriating.” He had a talent for getting under your skin even when you were on your knees for him.

“You’re so much worse.”

“Is this worse?” You put your lips back on the tip and looked up at him.

“N-no.” A smirk was lightly tugging at your lips when you pulled off him again.

“Aw, you’re stuttering.”

“You were doing it first,” Instead of arguing, you took him whole in one go to make him suck in a sharp breath. You kept going just like that, from tip to base taking him until you had to catch your breath and stroke the tip, flicking your wrist a little before going back down to do it again. It kept going like that, Javi was blown away at how long you wanted his shaft down your throat. But something else lingered, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

You could tell he was getting close when a slight whimper escaped his lips. So low that you almost thought it was a figment of your imagination, but it happened again. The sound lit something in you, and you had to get it again, and again, and again because with how much you loved those groans, to hear him have such desperation in his voice, so much ecstasy at your ministrations, it was a high that you never wanted to get off of.

“Right there, baby. Keep going for me, please.” The strain in his voice was evident, and somehow the curve in your mouth grew. There were two thoughts buzzing through your head, surprisingly. To swallow him whole and let him cum, or to deny? Sure, the desire was close to winning, but he had to pay after the stunt he pulled. So, you stopped everything.

“What the fuck was that?” The fire in his eyes elicited a smirk from you.

“You gotta fuck me first if you want to cum.” Toying with him, he pulled you up and pushed you onto the desk, bending you over while you knew you were getting under his skin.

“Oh I’ll fuck you.” Roughly, he pushed inside you, the sheer size making you yelp as he fucked you. Hands gripped tightly on your hips, the grunts that fell from his lips, and knowing that he was taking you just as he knew you would.

“You think it's funny to tease me, don’t you?” He smacked your ass as he thrusted inside you.

“I-I do.” He smacked your ass again, making you bite your lip and hold back your moans.

“Oh, you like the pain,” He smacked your ass three times in a row, and you were sure that it made your ass burn bright red as each sting brought more pain and pleasure from the last. “My handprint on your ass right now is perfect. Little fucking slut.” The way those words fell from his lips would normally make you angry, but it didn’t do anything but make you clench around him harder.

“F-Fuck you!” You stuttered out, pleasure blinding you as you started to meet his thrusts halfway.

“F-Fuck you too.” He pulled you by your hair, and the glimpse you got of light sweat dripping down his face, head full of hair a mess, gritting words through his teeth was breathtaking. He moved your head back down and let go of your hair, resting his hand back on your hip.

You whined a little, feeling your orgasm approach quickly. From how he stretched you out and brushed up against your pleasure spot, you knew it would come quicker than you could anticipate. You wanted to cum without him noticing, but with the pulsing you did all around his shaft, he knew that you were trying to play it off.

“Feels like you want to cum,” He trailed off as he moved one of his hands down to your clit, rubbing tight and fast circles enough to make you jolt up.

“Yes, I need to cum.” You rasped out, barely making a coherent thought in your head. He fucked you through it just until you were about to cum, even denying himself an orgasm before he pulled out, making you turn your head to look at him.

“You thought I would let you cum? So naïve.” He laughed while you were fuming. Why did you think he would let you cum twice after the stunt you pulled? And, more importantly, why were you in this position?

“I fucking hate you.” You gritted through your teeth, getting ready to move away and get dressed, but he stopped you, gripping your hip with one hand to keep you in place.

“I hate you so much more.” He pushed back inside you, and you were relieved to feel him again, even with your mind telling you that he was the enemy. An enemy who could play with your body while simultaneously getting under your skin, bringing you to ecstasy faster than any man could.

But for him, hearing you loosen up on him, the regular insults transforming into breathless moans as your body begging for him changed something in him. A hate fuck that he was used to, getting it out of the way before he would go home to drink and go to sleep. But this? No, he was transfixed on giving you more than he normally would, even if you were everything that he couldn’t stand.

Suddenly, a twitch was felt right up on your spot as your intense pulses increasing with each second. His hand went back down to your clit to rub faster circles, and he bent down just enough to get a little closer to your ear.

“You gonna cum? Use that pretty mouth of yours and scream my name.” Deep, a little raspy even as he encouraged you to cum, you let go and squeezed all around him as you came, much to his pleasure as he tried to ride it out for you. Just as he couldn’t hold it anymore, he pulled out in a haste to cum on your ass. Heavy breaths, body shaking, mind empty, you both were spent. Drunk off the other's touch and how you both felt, you knew you did something that would cause issues in the morning. He moved off to grab a tissue from the desk, wiping off your other ass cheek that he came on and admiring the light handprint on your ass.

“That’s gonna be pretty in the morning.” He commented as he got up. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your clothes which were all over the place, putting them on quickly.

“How does everything that comes out of your mouth annoy me?” You put your blouse back on and looked at him as he put his shirt back on.

“Just before you were enjoying my words.” Your face burned after he spoke, turning your head while you pulled on your panties and then pants.

“That doesn’t count,” You trailed off, voice not as strong as usual given that you knew you were lying.

“Right,” He pulled on his pants, walking over to you to tilt your head up when he finished. “I can go for round 2 at your place.” Your eyes lit up at those words, and you smirked.

“Follow me home then.”

-

The Colombian sun shined through your bedroom window, cascading a shadow on your bed as you stirred in your sleep. The window was open, making your room a little bit rise in temperature by noon, and you could faintly hear the cars driving down the street. The sheets tangled, limbs as well, an arm lazily wrapped around your waist, you were close to thinking that you were still dreaming. Your back felt warm, and there was a soft rumble hitting your upper back with each breath he took. Finally, you opened your eyes, seeing that the sun was higher in the sky, which you were not used to seeing so much in your apartment. You turned to face Javi, seeing that he was fast asleep, snoring softly as he was undisturbed by your shift in bed.

Somehow, he looks softer than you’ve ever seen him. The sheet rested just above his hip bone, trailing up, you could see his tan skin, the soft expanse of his stomach, his chest, his collarbone, his neck, up to his face. That damned face of his. 12 hours ago, and you couldn’t stand the sight of him, yet he was tangled in your bed, snoring softly. If you didn’t remember that he was the enemy still, you would’ve stared at him until you couldn’t anymore, but when you turned over to finally look at your clock, and it read 8:00 am, you were fucked.

“Shit. I’m late.” You sprung out of bed to close your window. Javi stirred as he rubbed his eyes.

“What time is it?”

“8:00 am. We have to meet Noonan by 8:30.” You rushed it out as you tried to find clean clothes, cursing yourself for not getting up. That alarm you had to set faded into the distance when you brought him to your bed last night. The way his lips felt on your neck made all your thoughts melt away as you let him take you once more.

“Fuck, you’re right.” He got out of bed fast, trying to find his clothes that were discarded in your room. It didn’t take much last night to help him undress, although it was slower, less hasty. The air felt different the second go around, with no pesky insults to throw the other off the scent of surface-level tension, culminating into something more. It was just you and him, using every inch of the bed for as long as you could keep your eyes open. You both put your clothes on and were headed for the door when you turned to face him, your face burning at how this would play out.

“What are we going to tell Noonan?” You asked, and his incredulous look made you sink further into embarrassment.

“What do you mean what do we tell her?”

“She’s going to ask why we’re both late, so we need an excuse.” Perhaps you were overthinking it, trying to avoid the other question that was burning in your head worse than a typical hangover.

“Just act how you normally act and I’ll do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard since this was just a one-time thing.” He brushed it off and walked ahead of you, and it stung in your heart more than his usual banter with you. Nothing was what he thought. Nothing to him when it meant everything to you when he was coaxing you into new highs for him, to unwind for him and let him get to the deepest parts of you. Nothing. Nothing for him, and it was nothing for you as you walked out the door.

“Got it.” The hardness in your voice surprised him when you didn’t catch his eyes again. You were the same as you were yesterday, stoic and angry as he knew you to be most of the time. Yet he realized he liked it more the way you were last night and how he was much softer with you. To have it all again would be nice, but those dreams of tomorrow were not promised in the lives you both lived.

-

A traffic-filled drive later, you and Javi were in the elevator waiting to see Noonan. You both look disheveled, even with fixing yourself in the car as you drove, but it would still get some comments from her that you didn’t need. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, and you both walked there as fast as you could, seeing that Noonan’s door was ajar. You walked in first, and Javi followed. and Noonan looked just the same as last night, making you wish you didn’t have to see her today.

“You both look like you went through a pigsty.” She pushed her papers to the side and darted her eyes between you both.

“Shower’s broken.” You made up, and you could see Noonan was fighting to roll her eyes at you.

“Well get it fixed.”

“Will do.” It was best to speak less around her, and when her attention was redirected to Javi, you were in the clear.

“What’s your excuse Peña? Couldn’t bother to iron?” Javi had a backup outfit in his car, yet it was wrinkled, and you could only imagine why that was the case.

“The iron broke yesterday. Didn’t have time to buy another one.” She didn’t buy it at all, and if you weren’t still pissed from earlier, you would’ve fought back a laugh.

“You have time to fuck up everything else but not get ready. Your priorities are wonderful,” You had to stifle a laugh there, or else she would chew you in again. “Just get your shit done and try to fix yourselves up.”

“Understood.” You both spoke in unison.

“And that meeting yesterday was a disaster. I’ve never had partners go against each other like that to save their ass.”

“With all due respect, Y/L/N went out on a limb and I didn’t have much of a choice. She wouldn’t trust my informant even after she met her.” You turned your head to look at him, the urge to slap him making you ball your hand into a fist.

“You seem to make a lot of choices for yourself without much thought, Peña. Don’t act like you have reservations now.”

“Peña’s informant has lied multiple times now, only with some of her intel being useful. I didn’t trust her with this because it could’ve led us to a death trap and he keeps going to her anyways. I had to do what made sense.” The damage control was useless once more, as you could see the irritation in her eyes.

“What would’ve made sense was to follow protocol. You went completely off the rails and were going to put yourself in danger without telling anyone. For that I should send you back to the States.”

“I’m sorry about what I did. It won’t happen it again.” Javi didn’t say anything, and you presumed it was that she wouldn’t believe he was sorry anyways.

“You’re right, it won’t. Figure out how to work together or I’ll put you both on desk duty permanently somewhere else. Now go take care of that paperwork Juarez left on your desks.”

“Yes ma’am.” You both walked out, reminiscent of the night before as you were fuming again. You walked straight to your desk and saw the stacks of files that were as tall as you are right in the middle. Javi’s was a little bit larger, and you wished someone else could help. You sat down and began to sort through them, ignoring the stare he was giving you.

“Your hair looks like it got tangled in a fan.” You scoffed, his first words to you being an insult like always.

“Could say the same for you. You could go undercover as a shaggy dog.”

“You seemed to like it last night.”

“That was a mistake.” You gritted through your teeth. You didn’t look, but you could feel the air shift between you two.

“You’re right. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He was stoic, maybe a little angry, even when he didn’t have the right to be. After all, it was his idea to treat it as such.

“I’m just following what you said this morning. Nothing remotely special about what happened.” While you were talking to him, deep down, you were reassuring yourself that this was all it was as you read through the files and tried to finish them off. Distractions from how your body shivered from the memories of last night, how he said those sweet little nothings that would echo in your mind longer than they should.

“Something’s finally useful in that head of yours.”

“I’m surprised you have thoughts at all. You only seem to think when it’s about saving your ass.” You took a quick glance and saw he was fuming and doing a terrible job of hiding it.

“I missed it when you weren’t speaking.” He muttered, finishing a file and sliding it over in haste.

“And I can’t wait to get away from you.” You replied, busying yourself with files as you could feel the pang in your heart grow with each passing moment. You blinked away your tears as you thought about last night, returning you to a better place.

Brushing your hair out of your face, the gentle kiss on your forehead. Sweet nothings as he went slow. Completely drunk off of both times, but the second one made you squeeze his hand as he thrusted into you. Again, and again, and again.

-

Nightfall came, and you were finished with your files. Javi had finished 20 minutes before you did, leaving without saying goodnight. You turned off the light at your desk and grabbed your things, passing by the office for a moment which made you stop in your tracks. Nearly 24 hours ago, he had you bent over in there and then, shortly after, gave you a much tender, softer side of him that you couldn’t stop thinking about. Now, it was as if nothing happened when you wanted to talk about it. Hell, you wanted it to happen again, and again, and again. He made your existence hell, but when you thought about things as you walked into the office, you thought about who he really was. His efforts were unconventional, but he had to get his hands dirty after doing this for a long time. And even with how he pushed back on your efforts, he had reason, as did you. Maybe you had him pegged wrong, but you were going to stick to what you said before. It was nothing, despite it making you feel everything.

You went to the elevator and hit the garage level, fighting back tears as they threatened to fall before you got in the car. What were you feeling over one night? Was the first time what tipped you over the edge, or was it the second time? That damned second time shouldn’t have happened. But you didn’t want to regret it, not when it replayed in your head.

“That’s it. Take it all for me.”

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

"Tomándome tan bien."

And a little phrase that went over your head.

“Eres mía.”

Before you knew it, the elevator dinged, and you reached the garage level. You walked out and saw that Javi was there on the left waiting for you.

“I thought you left 20 minutes ago.” You asked, but you didn’t look at him. Not when your eyes were still a little glassy and you didn’t want to be that vulnerable.

“I was, but I waited so I could tail you on the way home.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Now he cares. Now he wants to be nice.

“I’m good, Javi. I can take care of myself alright? I have my gun and my knife so there’s no need to worry.” You were beginning to walk off but he caught your wrist and pulled you back.

“There’s sicarios out there. I can’t let you go out there like that.” You finally looked at him and saw his eyes were a little glassy too. Surely you were imagining it. You had to be.

“Why do you care?” Voice trembling, you were letting a wall down with him.

“I…I don’t. I’m just making sure you don’t become the next example for them.” Somehow that beat he took before speaking gave you everything you needed to know.

“You never did this before.”

“I’m not gonna make it a habit.” If he was going to close up, so were you. You took his hand off your wrist and moved back.

“I don’t expect you to. You’re just doing your job I guess.” You regretted asking that question, and your feet were itching to run to your car.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, Javi. Just go home and leave me be.” Your feet begged to run, but your heart kept you right in place.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t have to. It didn’t mean anything just like none of this means anything.” Tears welled again just as your heart swelled from pain. Why couldn’t you leave? What was seeing him get closer to you, grabbing your hands and interlocking them that made you want more?

“This doesn’t mean anything to you?” He caught your gaze and you couldn’t escape it. You sucked in a breath, savoring it before answering.

“No.”

“You hesitated.” He squeezed your hand and you squeezed back.

“Does it mean anything to you?” You countered.

“Don’t put this on me.” Damn him for calling you out for the reversal.

“You asked.”

“Be honest with me. Did you think about what we did last night at all today?” His voice was softer, the hint of desperation laced in that pulled at your heartstrings.

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

“Okay, maybe. Did you?” That maybe held you from admitting it completely, but the glimmer of hope that flashed in his eyes made you realize that it meant something to him.

“All day today. I couldn’t stop.” He was a little breathless, the weight of that finally off his shoulders.

“I thought you didn’t care.” He sighed when you spoke.

“Did you believe me for a second when I said it?”

“I had my doubts but I wasn’t sure. Did you believe me?”

“No. Not then, not now.” He squeezed your hand again, pulling you a little closer. He opened his mouth but closed it just as fast, making you wonder what he wanted to say.

“You’re hesitating on asking me something.” He averted his eyes from you but you caught his gaze again.

“Well if you’re going to dodge the truth I won’t ask.”

“I’ll be honest. I swear.”

“Do you want that to happen again…and more?” The vulnerability in his voice was evident with the pause he took, his voice cracking just enough that you knew you weren’t in this by yourself.

“I do. Do you?”

“Yeah. I do.” That was all you needed to hear before you took the leap. That leap led you to kiss him softly, pouring all those buried feelings into it, knowing that you were finally happy. Happiest with him, even with what would come after. He pulled back but he let go of your hands and put them on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb against them.

“I’m sorry about what I said to you before. I never believed the rumors because you proved yourself. And I’m sorry for what I did earlier with Noonan. You were right about my informant even when I didn’t want to believe it.” Sincerity in his voice and his eyes, you gave him a warm smile that you didn’t know you had in you after all this time being down here.

“It’s okay. And I’m sorry for accusing you of letting things like your informants get in the way of your job. I know we both want the same thing we just have different ways of getting it done.” The smile that was etched onto his face made you smile a little wider, two grinning agents as if they were teens crushing on each other.

“I think we want two things.” You cocked your head to the side as his smile changed into a smirk.

“You sure?” You challenged, and he kissed you again, which was deeper and more passionate. Somehow, you didn’t think you would get enough of his kisses anytime soon.

“Positive.”

“Tail me home then.”

-

Translations:

Déjandome usar tu coño así - Letting me use your pussy like this.

Dulce - Sweet (you guys should know what mami is LMAO)

Tomándome tan bien - You're taking me so well.

Eres mía - You're mine.

[goldenstring6123]

a quickie request LISTEN LISTEN HEAR ME OUT…… sylus fingering reader so so so hard and fast with his long ass fingers and you’re arching up in pleasure and he’s breathing into your mouth, hard against your thigh….. 🌚 (sometimes my own thoughts remind me i have no shame 🙏)

Sylus: Putting you to sleep

Warning: 2.3k word Smut, 18+ only! MDNI, AFAB!reader, reader may or may not be the mc, Fingering, Nipple play, slight begging, quickies (?)

Author's note: hehe, this ain't a full blown sex yet but here ya go!

"How long do you plan on staring, sweetie?" the tall silver-haired man lowered his balled fists to his hips, promptly turning towards your figure, which leaned by the doorpost. You dawned on messy hair, a tight black undershirt, and night shorts. It took him no less than a second to piece that you just woke up.

"Couldn't sleep." You stated.

Sylus shifted his weight to the other leg. "Would you like me to do something about it?" sincerely, he offered, yet his ruby red eyes flickering with roguish intent.

"Is there anything you can do?" You can't help but ask. With Sylus offering to aid your sleepless fatigue a million thoughts raced through your mind. He could knock you out to sleep, or maybe he'll ask you to spar with him. Whatever it was, you were ready to turn him down.

"Of course. What kind of lover would I be?" He took his sweet time undoing his wrist wrap; meanwhile, you took your sweet and ample time to approach the boxing ring. Everything else was by far dim apart from that platform.

It was silent. Any sound echoed in the combat room, reverberating against the metal posts and cement walls. It was 2 am, and not a single soul was in sight. You weren't sure if you were scared that you were both alone or at peace because Sylus was with you.

He took off his black undershirt and threw it aside shortly after; he hopped down with a large thud and stood before you, his broad figure looming ominously.

"Sylus?" you called. He moved his hand and flicked his fingers behind you. The only source of light that made you see is now gone. A few seconds more, as you feel Sylus' hands slither around your exposed waist, a silver moonlight peering through the windows turning red.

You wanted to say something, but you dared not do it.

His touch was warm as it dragged against your skin, leaving a stinging heat in its wake. Soon enough, another hand landed on your body and thighs, gliding like paper. Softly, Sylus' fingers traversed the top of your thighs, sliding lower and lower until he grasped the underside of your thigh.

Sylus yanked you closer, your thigh upwards. A muffled gasp erupted from your lips the moment your chest pressed against his torso. The heat that emanated from his body made yours tingle, yet to the touch, it was wet and slippery from the sweat of his workout.

"You're unusually quiet," He whispered against your ear. His teeth nibbled the lobe of your ears. A shiver traveled down your spine, sensitivity only then being realized. You didn't want to reply. You were on a thin thread between tiredness and lasciviousness; you no longer had the energy to deal with other feelings.

Once in a while, it was all right to let Sylus take the lead.

He grinded his body against yours, rubbing every surface of your body. The thin strap of your undershirt falls down to your shoulder as if taunting your partner to pull it off further. Sylus could feel your breasts against his abdomen. Supple and soft, your nipples slowly work themselves against the cloth.

You heard shifting from around you, and you could hear the clothes and cushions gather near your footing. Sylus buried his nose in the crook of your neck, placing a wet kiss near your collarbone. He pushed you back, and you fell onto the soft mattress and fabric. Sylus knelt in between your parted legs, one hand on your knee and one on the side near your waist.

Your chest heaved up and down, cleavage well exposed as your undershirt became more and more rumpled against your body. Your stomach was exposed, and your shorts were rendered practically useless with how you felt, as if you had nothing on. You couldn't help but blame it on your lover as well, his glowing eyes staring at every crevice of your body as he methodically planned on how to devour you.

Sylus didn't want to waste any more time. He took advantage of your parted lips and crashed it against his own. His tongue asked no permission and entered your mouth, the sluggish muscle probing, prodding against your tongue. He tasted like wine. You were intoxicated. He needed to explore you again. As if it was his first time. Grunts escaped his mouth, reverberating as he savored the taste of you.

Your chest burned. It yearned for air, yet the depraving sensation sent your body on edge, sending pulses to your very core. You let out moans as Sylus parted his lips from yours. His hands were back to where it was: on your body. Teasingly, his long fingers slid under the stretchy cloth of your cloth.

He was taking his sweet time. But you were impatient.

You hurriedly lifted your undershirt over your chest, the chilly yet dry air finally blowing on your breasts. You grabbed your lover's big hand and guided it to your left breast, the thing fitting in his grasp all too well. You could see him smile even in the dark. "Don't tease," you demanded.

His hands began to work, to knead. Sylus basked at the feeling of your lithe tits. He brought his mouth lower and lower through the sloppy and wet kisses, from your collarbone to your cleavage, and in one second, he suckled on your breast.

"haah…" You let out, arching your back at the electrifying cold of his tongue against your perked nipple. His tongue flicked up and down, threading lightly on your sensitive tip before sucking. That was enough to make you elicit another moan.

His spare hand traveled lower and lower, this time slipping underneath the garter of your shorts. He used his EVOL again, and the piece of apparel slipped off in one swift motion, leaving you in your underwear.

Two fingers danced on top of your lingerie, circling your pelvis before languidly trailing lower, just above your clit. "Hng…" you could feel the finger brush past it, pressing your entrance lightly through the cloth. "Why do you…Ah—" He flicked at your clit and nibbled at your nipple. "—Keep on teasing?"

He hummed, offering no form of response. His two fingers finally showed some generosity, fully pushing against your clit while ever so slightly rubbing left and right. Your muscles tensed every time he rubbed; you couldn't help but puff out your chest as well, feeding it onto his mouth more.

The rubbing turned circular, fast, rushed, meant to make you nearly scream from the electrical bolts of pressure that traversed from your pussy, down to your legs, up to your breasts, and to your neck. You were trying your best to keep still, but with Sylus playing with you, it seemed like a farfetched goal. "Ah…Mhn!" He pulled his finger away and tore off the last remaining cloth that covered your lower parts.

You felt his fingers glide up and down the inside of your folds, brushing lightly on your entrance while also hitting your clit. He was doing it lightly to slather your own slick across your cunt and let a thick coat of slimy translucent liquid form a thin sheet over it.

You twitched at every sensation— Sylus had always been good with his hands. Be it with a weapon or with you. His long fingers can make you heed his command; at times like these, you let yourself submit. Then, without warning, Sylus slipped his middle finger in your hole, burying it until his knuckles touched your entrance.

"AH?!" Long. His fingers were fucking long!

In some sort of way, when he pierced inside you, it rubbed your g spot, which made you arch your back once more. The finger inside you curled up, pressing against that overly tender and hot walls of flesh that hugged it tightly. Your lover was generous enough to start with shallow thrusts. Yet, you could still hear the crude, squelching noises. As a few seconds pass, his light, shallow thrusts become more and more aggressive, pulling in and out, stretching the ring of your entrance.

Mewls and moans escaped your throat no matter how hard you tried to swallow it in. It did not help that the sounds you were making echoed around the training room, making you hear how you sounded.

Another finger slipped in, and that's when you felt the stretch. Sylus' finger moved in sync, hooking onto that one sport that made you tremble. He scissored his fingers and opened them wide, stretching you out too. The palm of his hand slaps against your skin, imitating a weak slapping sound, yet with it comes the squelch of your juices, overflowing out of your womanhood and trickling down to the mattress.

You gripped the cloth and cushion, hoping it could anchor you down, and it did its job somehow. Waves of pleasure overcame you as he continued to thrust, occasionally rubbing your clit with his thumb. You twisted and turned, even threatening to close your thighs at the sheer pleasure, but Sylus wouldn't let you.

He kissed you in between actions, muffling out your cries and slipping in his tongue without consideration. You were on the verge of your own sanity, the only sensation left being the quick pooling of pleasure at the bottom of your stomach. You were nowhere near your climax when he pulled out of you quickly.

"No! Sylus!" You cried, pushing yourself up to look at him. Under the red light, you saw him move his hand again, and you were suddenly enveloped by the dark mist of his evil, pulling you up and settling you on Sylus's lap.

You rested your arms on his broad shoulders, placing your weight on your knees, which were spread to his side. Slowly, the discharge in your pussy began to trickle down your thigh as nothing was plugging it up.

"Sylus—fingers." You demanded, biting his ear. He happily obliged with your requests, and soon enough, three fingers were pumping up your hole. His movements were erratic, switching between shallow and deep thrusts while simultaneously applying pressure on the tip of his fingers against your G-spot.

Your body twitched, and your eyes watered. To hide your scandalous moans, you kissed Sylus over and over again, him breathing into your mouth as you cried out his name. You could feel his Cock tight against his boxing shorts, yet you didn't want to take it out.

You were more than sure that you couldn't take it. With the state of your body and what your lover was doing to you, you were going to pass out the moment you hit your peak.

Sylus wasn't slowing down. Rougher and rougher, his hands worked with a rigorous desire to help you come. His whole hand was slathered with your juices, his ears filled with your delightful moans, which you failed to hide. His mouth sucked on your breasts, and his nose savored the raw scent of your body. Sylus never gets enough of these, and as much as he would've wanted to pound into it, he was too entranced by the moment.

The tips of your fingers began to heat up, your muscles turning tense as a cold sweat scattered through the back of your neck. Hurriedly, the pleasure pooled in your stomach overwhelmed you, filling you up and churning your core, "Sylus…" You called, almost begging. "I'm close….Mhng!" You throw your head forward, your mouth against his ear, as you no longer hold back your cries of pleasure.

"Ah! Ahnm! Hnng!" You let out.

You felt his thumb rub your clit again, and you bucked your hips forward, his fingers ramming your beloved spot roughly, repeatedly, torturously. You feel yourself well up, the heat in your stomach growing larger and larger the more Sylus rubs your clit. "Sylus…Sylus, Please, Sylus— I'm almost there!" You grabbed onto his hair for dear life, yanking it back before sloppily kissing him.

An electrifying ripple bloomed out from your pussy, making your lower region jolt at his continuous movements. You throw your head back and let out a scream laced with pleasure and desire— You can only see white as your insides throb, clutching onto the fingers that made you feel full.

God, that felt fucking amazing.

As you savored the high of your orgasm, Sylus looked up at you as he pressed his own face against your breast, marveling at the sight of you reaching your peak, reveling the loud and unconcealable thumps of your chest. He kissed your breasts and then your heart, slowly supporting your weight as you come down from your high.

He laid you down on the mattress ever so gently, brushing the sweat-riddled hair that stuck onto your face. Your eyes can't help but flutter shut, still savoring the last remnants of your orgasm. Tiredness washed over your body like the sea crashing onto the shoreline; with it, it brought relaxation and ease.

"Thank you," you whisper as you finally fall asleep.

Using his EVOL for the last time, Sylus gathered the clothes scattered around you and chucked them with his own. His towel from the wooden benches floated, promptly spreading and covering your exposed body. He picked you up, disregarding his own stiff manhood tucked in his pants.

He can deal with that later. For now, he should bring you back to your room and clean you up. The last thing he wants is for you to get sick.

Of course, Sylus didn't do this for free. He never does anything for free. You'd be a fool if you think he did.

Whether you know it or not, he'll make you compensate, and just your luck: he's getting up early tomorrow and more than eager to hear your cries again in the morning.

Author footnotes: With the amount of Sylus smut that I read, I wanted to write him without speaking much, y'know? just focusing on you and not coming up with witty replies to every word you say.Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost | Dividers by cafekitsune & me!

[daycourtofficial]

I pretend you’re mine all the damn time

Summary: on a mission Azriel ingests a breeding tonic and you offer to help him release

Warnings: SMUT, PIV, sex pollen, slight dubcon

Author’s note: I think this is my longest fic ever and also probably the fic I’m proudest of so yall BETTER enjoy. I think this is my favorite fic I’ve ever written ugh 😩 I will likely write a part two 🫶

Word count: 2.6k

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“What the fuck,” you grunt, as you land a hit on another Illyrian after several minutes of exchanging blows.

You jab him in his ribs, blocking his retaliating kick. You huff as his hand grabs the knife at his side, deflecting your punch to his face.

You go low, swiping his legs out from under him, causing him to crash onto the ground. You climb on top of him, ready to land another blow, when his legs push up from underneath you, throwing you off of him.

He climbs on top of you, grabbing you by the collar to throw you back into the ground, when something strikes the back of his head, causing him to go limp on top of you.

Your confusion doesn’t last long as hazel eyes meet yours over the massive figure unconscious on top of you.

“I had it covered,” you said, pushing the male off of you.

Azriel snorts, “sure you did.”

He reaches out a hand, which you gladly take. He pulls you up with more force than he intended, pulling you in very close to his body. Your breath hitches, his smell of night-chilled mist and cedar invading your senses.

Your heart is beating wildly, and you’re sure he can hear it as he looks at you. He’s smiling down at you, a smile that weakens your knees and distracts you enough to forget all about the abandoned Illyrian camp you two were searching in.

At least, it was supposed to be abandoned, according to the intel you two had received. Azriel had asked you to come with him, the two of you making an exquisite pair on missions. Somehow you both knew when the other needed help, exemplified when Azriel hit the assailant from behind moments ago.

It’s like you both had a sixth sense for when the other was in danger.

You’re about to say something when something hits Azriel on the back of the head, causing him to lose his balance and stumble forward into you.

His mouth turns into a sneer, as he whips around and the Illyrian you hadn’t seen or noticed grabs Azriel by the collar, pushing him into a wall full of bottles and tubes. The guy grabs one of the random bottles from the wall, breaking the lid and pouring the powdered contents onto Azriel’s face.

“Shit,” the words come from your lips as your knife finds its mark in the dark haired male’s back. You rush forward, withdrawing the knife before turning him around and plunging it into his throat.

You don’t pay attention as the body falls to the ground, only moving towards Azriel, who was growing unsteady on his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m here, I’m here,” you say, placing your hand on his arm. He snatched his arm away from you, and you can’t help the sound that comes from you at his rejection.

He is groaning, sweat beading on his forehead. He leans further against the wall, trying to escape your reach.

“Don’t,” he grits out.

“What is it? Do you know what the powder was?”

Azriel finds his canteen of water, unscrewing the cap and pouring it over his head.

“Az,” you say, but a growl cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he grits again, “don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

He braces himself against the wall, breathing heavily. He finally looks at you, allowing you to see his eyes. Golden irises have been replaced by blown pupils, a black pit of desire. The room is coated in the scent of his arousal.

“Azriel,” you say tersely, “we have to go now, we have to go and see Madja because I have no clue what you inhaled.”

Azriel pushes himself further against the wall as you approach him, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

“I can’t- I can’t winnow us out of here,” he says, the words strained. It’s then you notice that his shadows are nowhere to be seen, having disappeared when your attention was fully on the Illyrian in front of you.

You step closer again, and his chest heaves with the groan he lets out.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” The words come out harsh and clipped, a tone he’s never taken with you. You’re trying desperately to think of a solution, a way out of this, when you see Azriel’s hand gripping his thigh, moving closer to his crotch.

His face is red with heat and embarassment, but you can’t look away as he begins to palm himself through his leathers, as if he wasn’t in control of his hand.

“Oh gods,” you say, “this was that experimental breeding shit, wasn’t it?”

Azriel nods, his throat tight with pain.

“Fuck,” you say, and he groans.

You think about what you know about the sickening breeding experiments some of the Illyrians were doing. Previous intel from Az had told you all that they had created this drug that made you-

“Oh my gods,” you say, “we have to-“

“No,” he snarls, “no. I can do this on my own.”

“Come on, Az, you’ll die if you don’t.”

He clinches his hands in a fist, his face turning red with restraint. He looks up at the ceiling, and his eyes are damp. His wings twitch and flutter.

“We don’t know that,” he says, his hand undoing the string on his leather, any control he had over the hand is gone as his hand wraps around his cock and he begins pumping it.

“Am I really that repulsive that you’d rather die than have sex with me?”

A moan comes from his mouth. His voice comes out quiet and strained, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I need it to be real. With you - if we - can we pretend it’s real?”

You stop breathing, his words clanging through your mind. “What do you mean?”

The words. He can’t get the words out. His body is on fire. He’s the Night Court’s spy master, for Cauldron’s sake.

And he can’t fucking move. Not when you’re looking at him like that.

“This isn’t how I ever would have imagined our first time.”

“But you’ve imagined it?”

“Gods, yes.”

You step closer, your hand reaching out towards him. You look into his eyes, wanting to know that it’s okay. All you find in response is pleading. Your hands lightly touch the buckles of his armor, and he gasps, his movements in his pants growing faster at your touch.

A man starved. He gazes up at the ceiling, tears about to leak from his eyes at this entire impossible situation. You were going to ruin him. You were going to break his heart, and then have sex with him to keep this from driving him mad.

It was cruel. The mother was cruel for this.

“I’ve thought a lot about it too,” you whisper, your voice softly carrying through the room.

He whips his head down at you, watching your fingers undo his straps. Your touch cools his body, but not for long.

Desire roars through him, and it is taking every ounce of restraint not to rip off your clothes and take you. He’s fighting the primal instincts that the pollen targets, his hands itching to touch you, to ravish you, opting to focus on your words.

“I always wanted you to confess your undying love for me,” you chuckle, “or, sometimes when I’m alone in the middle of the night, touching myself to you.”

A strangled sob escapes his throat at your words, causing him to notice his surroundings for a second. He can smell you, and it pushes him even further in need.

He can’t stop his hips from moving forward, meeting your own. His hand retracts from his pants, wrapping around you instead to pull you closer. Every word from you causes his resolve to crumble just a bit more as his hips grind against yours.

You were a bit breathless at the action, so you say, “when I’m feeling romantic, you tell me you can’t dare to be away from me for another moment, and you need me.”

A snarl breaks from his lips, causing your arousal to deepen. You are soaked, likely through your leathers.

“But when I’m just needy, I like to imagine you hearing me moaning your name through the door, and you burst in, claiming me as yours.”

His mouth opens as he moans, and you push the fabric of his leathers off his chest, raking your nails down his torso.

“Gods,” he exhales, “I-“

You cut him off, needing to get the words and fantasies you kept so deeply buried out there, future consequences be damned.

“I need you,” you whisper, “I’ve needed you for a long time.”

You were well aware of how much pain he was in trying to delay this for as long as possible.

His eyes are closed as your fingers slide down to the strings of his leathers. You don’t let yourself think too much about what you’re doing, about how the flight home will be, about how after this your teeny, tiny crush on him will be blown out exponentially worse.

Your fingers gently undo the ties, and his hips seek out the heat of your hands, begging for the friction they could provide.

You slide his pants down, his hard, throbbing cock springing free at the loss of its confines. Your mouth dries a bit at the size of him and the blood rushing to both your cheeks and between your hips.

You look from his cock to his face, teeth clenched in restraint.

His eyes open to yours at the sound of your leathers unbuckling, a soft, “no” hitting your ears.

“Azriel,” you start, but a moan escapes him at his name on your tongue.

He starts chanting your name like a prayer, over and over, a cadence to his chantings as you peel off the top of your leathers, exposing the expanse of skin underneath.

The chanting continues as you pull off the bra you wore, baring your chest to him completely. His hand wraps around his cock, the tip already angrily leaking in desperation.

The chanting picks up in tempo as you undo the strings of your own pants, eyes not straying from his as he strokes himself to your half-naked form. You push your pants down, pushing your underwear down as well, pulling them off with your boots, kicking your discarded clothes into a corner.

You walk back towards him, the sounds of his stroking and panting utterly sinful through the room. His breath hitches as you near him, reaching a hand out towards his cock.

“May I?” You ask, and you want to laugh at the formality of it, if you weren’t terrified of him saying no.

He nods lightly, his throat bobbing, and your fingers graze his as you grab onto his cock, wrapping your hand around it. His wings spread out at your grasp, head tilting back.

You take the opportunity to kiss his neck, and his grip on the desk is turning his knuckles white.

Your strokes don’t slow down, and it’s not until now that you feel just how wet you are. You feel bad, your arousal a byproduct of the state he’s in. He can’t help his arousal, but you can help yours.

You don’t let the shame linger for too long as you spread your palm across his chest, pushing him down onto the desk, crawling on top of him as he sinks lower.

His back hits the desk, his large membranous wings spread out behind him. Having him laid out beneath you, you allow yourself a few seconds to take in just how beautiful he was.

His tattoos covered his shoulders, making parts of his skin blend in with the darkness of the desk beneath him. His mouth parted slightly, head tilted back towards the skies, as if asking the heavens to watch your sinful acts.

You climb on top of him, the heat of your body driving him mad with desire.

“Is this okay?” You ask, trepidation coating your words.

“Gods, yes,” he replies, knowing he shouldn’t let this happen, but unable to stop himself. You’re hovering over his cock, the organ twitching as it feels just how close you are to sinking onto him.

The guilt is tampered down by the ever-growing need in his brain to breed, breed, breed. It was absolutely vile whatever these experiments were, but holy gods did it unlock a level of primal need he didn’t think existed.

His hands find your hips, and he can’t control how harshly he pulls you down onto his cock, a sharp inhale coming from you in the painful stretch.

He winces at the noise, but you stop him from allowing self-doubt to run through his head as you lean down and kiss him.

He moans into your mouth, his deep, harsh thrusts making the kiss nothing but teeth clacking and wet noises. Your nails dig into his skin as you keep grinding up and down on his cock, every thrust seemingly feeling deeper and deeper inside of you.

He keeps chanting your name, over and over, into your mouth, and you change the pace of your thrusts to coincide with it. His hands smooth over your hips, gliding up to your breasts. His fingers pinch your nipples, causing your back to arch around his touch.

You know he can’t hold out much longer - he’s painfully close, and so are you. Your stomach’s in knots, desperate for more, more, more. You reach out a gentle hand, caressing the nail on his wing. His eyes shoot open, wings flaring out as he gasps, emptying himself into you.

It causes the same effect in you, the both of you finishing at the same time. His thrusts slowed down, but he kept his tight grip on your hips. You can feel the pads of his fingers digging into your skin, leaving small bruises in their wake. Your foreheads are together, panting as he holds you for a moment.

For one glimmer of a moment, he’s holding onto you, sweat glistening on both of your bodies.

Status report.

Rhys’s voice fills your mind through the tiny opening in your mind you allow him to correspond with you in. You can tell Azriel is getting the same message as his eyes lose their shine, a glossy effect taking over them.

With a heavy heart, you pull off of Azriel, unable to respond to Rhys while his brother’s cock was still inside of you. You start pulling your leathers back on, covering the fluids and marks littering your body - the only proof of what just happened between you two.

The air is tense as Azriel dresses, still speaking with Rhysand. After a moment, his voice comes out, cold and detached.

“Let’s go,” he says, walking out of the room without another word, an icy air following him. Your gaze follows him out the door, before looking around the room.

The stench of sex is in the air, but there’s almost a hint of pain in the aroma. The air is suffocating you - you have to leave, you have to follow Az.

You look to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. Your eyes turn down to gaze at your feet as you slowly trudge out of the room, knowing you likely just ruined your most important friendship.

Part two

[starrycassi]

Today in Jean and Neil's bestfrienderism. With a side of Andrew being Andrew. And domestic Andreil.

.

Jean is having a panic attack.

Well, not quite. It's not a full blown attack, yet. But it is close. Very, very close. He is thirty. He is alive. He is Jean Moreau and he has endured so, so much. He is, somewhat, free. As free as the cattle are in a pasture. As free as the shrimp are to the breeding pond.

He has a wonderful husband. He is reconnecting with Kevin. He visits Cat and Laila whenever their schedules allow them the time to do so. He has a dog — well, he technically has three. Charbon is his, and his alone. She is a wonderful Black Labrador that Dobson appointed him. The other two, Caramelo and Dulce, (both named by Catalina, of course) are his and his husband's.

Charbon is moving as soon as he's clawing at his neck. She knows what to do. She knows what to do.

"-breathe. In, and out. Com'on, Jean. It ain't hard. In, and out. You're, like, an athlete. In, and out. You don't even smoke. In, and out. Drew? Water, yes. In, and out."

That's, unfortunately, not the voice of a cybernetically enhanced service dog. It's a different type of animal. Neil Josten.

He manages to make his brain claw around, trying to find where his hand is (in his neck, of course) and puts it up, flipping the bipedal cockroach off.

.

Jean doesn't have a panic attack. Thanks, Charbon.

He's still on the edge. He plays with the dog's ears, floppy and bendy. She seems content to let him do so. They're all on the floor. The two cats are in Neil's lap. Andrew is in the kitchen.

"Breathing okay? Didn't break a rib, did you?"

Jean flips Neil off again.

"I take that as a no. But we did do a RCP training course, you know? Aaron was being a little bitch about me being 'death-prone' or whatever. So you wouldn't even have died. Not on our watch"

"Pretty sure RCP is not the standard solution to panic attacks, junkie" Andrew says, sounding bored, while he walks into the room, tray in his hands. "Panic attacks, also, don't really kill people that often. He would've fainted, at worst"

"Should be standard. Gets the heart right again, does it not?"

Andrew drops the tray to the floor. Only, he doesn't drop it. The jug full of ice and water is intact, as is the glass right next to them. Jean serves himself a glass, drowning it as quickly as possible. It stings. It helps, with the whole "I hate my throat" thing. Harm reduction, Dobson called it.

"You're such a fucking idiot" Andrew says, before reaching down to tug Neil's hair. Neil looks up, their eyes lock, and Jean feels so disgusted that he almost forgets why he's on the floor, to start with. Can they be any less PDA-inclined?

Then again, Jeremy and him are worse. So.

There's silence. And, then, "Jean. We could find a way"

Jean is confused. Andrew, clearly, is not. Jeremy and him love each other, but even theh can admit that there's no other couple with such a level of telepathy as the Josten-Minyard one. It's quite off-putting.

" 'We' sounds like a lot of people" Andrew complains, his tone one of slight annoyance. Regardless, he drops down next to Neil. One of the cats migrates to his lap. He absentmindedly scratches its head, just like he did Neil.

"I'm not following"

They both look at him like he's an imbecile. In return, he glares.

"To get you out of the contract" Neil clarifies. Except, that doesn't clarify anything. Jean Moreau, even as a free man, belongs to the Moriyamas. Not the Nest, or Riko, anymore. It's as much freedom as anyone like him can wish for. Jean Moreau has, is and will endure.

Yes, he hyperventilates whenever the topic of children comes up. Because Jeremy wants kids. A big, happy, loving family. Jean, unfortunately, wants the same.

He doesn't want kids as much as he fears his debt. Their future. His work. Their worth.

Andrew made the offhand comment of Aaron's twins coming to visit next week. About how it seems that the whole group of "Neil's friends" are eager to overpopulate the world with mini nuisances and how he pitied the teachers that had to ever work with such offspring. How it feels like they're the only ones sane enough to avoid such a burden. He didn't mean anything by it. That didn't stop Jean from spiraling. Intent and reaction are, often, not the same thing.

"I stress that you should just get the Care Bear to replace you. He likes Exy. He likes you. Surely we can guilt him into agreeing"

"Non," he answers immediately. They've had this conversation. Jeremy has offered. Jean has refused. It is enough, that one of them is tainted by the Moriyamas. Jeremy's life is not and has never been perfect, but Jean refuses to add a whole ass mafia deal to that.

Andrew shrugs, unapologetically. Jean is not offended. Andrew is a no-nonsense kind of man. A "straight to the point" kind of man. He, probably, thinks that his suggestions are helping, somehow.

"There has to be another way." Neil muses, looking at the ceiling. "We already negotiated with Ichirou, once. Maybe time's made him softer? He's got kids, now. Fatherhood softens people up. Or so I hear."

"Your father tried to kill you. At least thirty times. Almost succeeded half of those, too" Jean reminds him, trying to stay out of the whole family conversation. Neil has never been one for careful sentences. He doesn't mean anything by it. Then, again, intent and reaction.

"It's his personality. He brings out the worst in people" Andrew adds, interlocking his pinky with Neil's pinky, before leaning in and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Gross.

"Rude. Also, Ichirou is way more level headed than Nathan. We could try, at least."

"Absolutely no, you neuron-lacking flea."

"Over my dead body, Josten."

"Again, rude. You two never let me have any fun. Kevin is influencing you too much, I swear."

Jean doesn't feel like thinking about Kevin, so he takes out one of the bobby pins in his hair and throws it at Neil's face. Andrew snorts. Charbon looks at the interaction with curiosity. So does Neil.

There is silence, again. For a while. And, then, "Neil will play Exy until he can't, anyways" Andrew points out.

Jean is confused. Neil, clearly, is not. He looks at Andrew with such an open expression of vulnerability and worry, that Jean has to look away.

"Drew, you know that-"

"I said 'life', didn't I? Same team. Same house."

"Five years ago."

"Haven't changed my mind."

"Still. I know you hate it."

"As much as I hate you. I've put up with you this long. I will handle it."

"Are you two always this fucking cryptic? Jesus Christ"

They share a look. Andrew nods. Neil hesitates. Andrew pokes him in the ribs.

"Andrew is willing to make a deal. We- we talked about it, some years ago, when Kevin had that skating accident. It's, uh, a backup plan. Asking Ichirou to pass the contract down."

"For a price." Andrew adds. As if that isn't the most unhinged, crazy and stupid thing Jean has ever heard them say. And God knows that that's a very high list.

"You're joking with me."

"Do I look like a fucking clown, Moreau?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I will not pass down my burden to you. Plus, it is, surprisingly, a decent plan. There is no other goalie out there who is making more money than you. Ichirou would be stupid if he didn't agree. Which means that you have to keep that option open. Neil is constantly looking for new ways of getting himself killed. I will not tolerate having you, either of you, on the chopping block for me. Not if I can help it"

He is angry. Do they think so selfish? So entitled? So uncaring? He feels nauseous. Charbon puts her paws on his chest, licking his face. He shouldn't feel offended, but he does. They don't mean anything by it. Intent, reaction.

"I'm already involved with our dear asian Shobhuza. Pretty sure he doesn't like me, already."

"Non. Absolutely no. Don't even- no. No. Are you listening to me? Never."

They glare at each other. Years ago, Jean would fold, Andrew's gaze reminding him too much of handcuffs and needles. He doesn't.

"Dramatic" Neil mutters in singsong. They glare at him, now. He has the audacity to giggle.

"We'll figure something out." he says, so sure of himself. How can someone so short be so full of confidence, Jean will never know.

"Even if we don't," Andrew adds, with something close to warmth in his tone, "surely the two of you can survive without passing on those dreadful genes of yours for a few more years"

"We were thinking of fostering" he murmurs, softly. So softly that he's unsure if they heard him or not. Andrew freezes, midway through petting his cat. Neil's eyes widen. Charbon gives a friendly bark.

Andrew and Neil look at each other. Do they ever do anything else?

"We'll find a way," Andrew says. Promises. Begs. Asks. Neil nods, gaze heavy with duty. They hold hands. Neil squeezes. Andrew squeezes back.

Jean feels like he might have another panic attack. How can they be so reckless? For him, out of all people?

Then, again, he would do the same. Sacrifices and promises.

Is there any other way to live?

[steebharringt0n]

dangerous liaisons - part II

summary: he was sent to protect you, infiltrate your family as your personal bodyguard, but instead he plans on defiling you.

pairing: mob!steve harrington/fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (18+), innocent!reader, dom!steve, a lil bit of mean!steve, dacryphilia, degradation, masturbation, religious talk, slight age gap, spitting, fingering, oral.

a/n: um holy shit i did NOT expect the first part to blow up so much so THANK YOU. Uh here’s part two, enjoy ya heathens ;)

Steve couldn’t sleep.

It had been a week since the “anatomy lesson” in your bedroom and his relationship with you had changed in a blink of an eye. You had become more quiet, reserved around Steve. The snarky and bratty comments had cooled down, no longer wishing to bicker back and forth with him like you usually had done.

Since then he was starting to have even more conflicting feelings about you. Like whenever his grandfather would ask for an update on things his mind would just wander back to your moans and whimpers and how much he craved to hear that again.

What Steve didn’t know is that ever since that night, you had continued to touch yourself, really get familiar with your body. You would lay in bed at night, your fingers in between your puffy folds and letting your juices coat your fingers while you lazily played with your clit. Your other hand found its way up your perky tits, pinching and twisting your nipples as you reached your climax. Your legs digging into your sheets as your back arched, pinching your nipples for added stimulation.

Also what Steve didn’t know is that you imagined him hovering over you, his hot breath on your face, his mouth spewing the most sinful things. You ached for his fingers so badly, you wanted to taste him, feel him, make him feel good.

It was 1:30 AM and Steve couldn’t stop thinking about you. His eyes were glued to the ceiling, arms resting behind his head. He could feel his cock throbbing in his sweatpants, knowing that you were just across the hallway.

It was then he heard a soft knock on his door. He jolted up, hand ready to reach into the nightstand and grab the 9mm that was hidden under his socks.

“Steve? It’s me” your soft voice whispered.

His body relaxes, he swipes a hand over his face to recompose himself.

“Come in,” he says.

He watches as his bedroom door cracks open, your face pokes through and you make your way in, making sure to shut the door behind you.

You stand awkwardly by the foot of his bed, arms folded and your eyes not daring to meet his because you knew if you did you would be at his absolute mercy.

“Can’t sleep either?” He asks, trying to keep things light.

You shake your head, “N-no, I’ve just been thinking a lot”

He can feel how nervous you are, your body language says it all. You look so innocent in your matching silk pj set, but he sees how you’re fiddling with your fingers and how you’re absolutely avoiding eye contact with him. You’re like a book that’s been blown wide open, easy for him to read.

“Oh? About what?” He asks.

You start to move towards his side of the bed, “Remember when we had that … anatomy lesson?”

Steve’s lips start to curl into a smile, “Yes, of course”

You’re now sitting at the edge of his bed right next to him. You finally dare to look up to meet his brown eyes which have gotten a shade darker since you walked in. With enough courage plucked up you place your hand on his thigh,

“I - I want another lesson … I want to make you feel good Steve, like how you made me feel good”

Your eyes are doe like as you stare into his, innocent and pure, but he knows the absolute filthy things he’s about you make you do. His smile now curls up into a full smirk as he feels his cock tightening in his pants. He reaches down to grab your chin with his hand, making you stare at him straight in his eyes,

“You’ve been touching yourself haven’t you?”

Your heart starts to speed up and as soon as his hand touches you, you can feel the wetness start to pool in your underwear.

You nod quietly, “Y-yes”

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. He then placed a kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger on your skin. He moves towards your cheek,

“Do you want to taste my cock?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

He feels you stiffen up, like a child being caught with a treat. He grabs your other hand and places it on top of his thigh where his cock rests right beside it. Your breathing begins to pick up, your body heating up with every movement he makes towards you.

“Y-yes Steve,” your voice comes out needy, pathetic, “I’ve been wanting to taste you so bad, I want your cock in my mouth, please”

There are tears brimming your eyes at the ache of your cunt. It’s become an addiction at this point, trying to reach that apex that you’ve reached every night, but now you’re wanting more and you know only Steve can satisfy that ache.

He rips the comforter off of his body, you can see the outline of his cock under his sweat pants and you can tell he’s massive. He slides off his sweatpants down his legs in a swift movement and you watch as his cock springs out and slap his stomach with a soft thud.

Your eyes go wide in shock, you’ve never seen a cock before but his was so beautiful. A pink, thick mushroom tip that was already starting to leak precum. Blue and green veins that circled around his girthy length with a tuft of hair that led up to his happy trail, and a massive set of balls that hung low.

Instinctively you reached over, hands clammy and trembling. He watches you with hooded lids, his heart starts to quicken as well as your fingers brush over his cock.

“Does it hurt?” You question as his mushroom tip continues to leak milky precum.

Steve swallows thickly, then shakes his head, “No, just a bit uncomfortable”

You gaze up at him, a now sultry look on your face as you firmly grasp his cock in your hands. You can barely wrap your hand around it, that’s how big he is.

“Let me help you, I want to make you feel good” you mutter as your face starts to slowly inch itself towards his cock.

He watches as you twist your way onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows as you stare up into his eyes. His cheeks start to heat up as he stalks your every movement.

“I just want to taste you …”

Your hot breath is now hitting his cock and Steve reaches out towards your hair, brushing it away from your face as you open your mouth, pink tongue poking out as you start to kitten lick his mushroom tip, cleaning up the precum that had begun to pool.

Steve takes a shaky inhale as pleasure begins to surge through his body. Your tongue darts back and forth, tasting, licking, poking and prodding. It’s salty but it tastes good.

“You taste so good Steve” you murmur.

You begin to kiss down his cock, your tongue tracing around the colorful veins that decorated it. You feel as Steve begins to grip your hair, whimpers starting to drip out of his mouth.

“Shit, baby, you sure never tasted a cock before?” His question comes out breathless, his eyes tightly shut as your tongue makes its way down to his massive balls.

“No, never, just you Steve”

Just you Steve

He feels a sense of pride knowing that he’s your first. That his cock will be the first that you’ve ever tasted, in the back of his mind he hopes that he’ll be your first and your last but those thoughts are quickly dismissed when you finally take his whole length in your mouth.

Steve’s body quivers and sinks into his bed as your warm mouth takes him in. He feels his mushroom tip hit the back of your throat. You hum lightly, letting the vibrations reverberate throughout his cock. Steve feels like he can cum right at this second but he holds himself back.

“Sh-shit, fuck that feels so good” he moans out.

His words of encouragement spur you even more. You pop his cock out of your mouth, lips red and cheeks tinted pink. You grab the underside of his cock with one hand and you begin to press kisses all up and down the other side, your tongue swirling around the salty skin.

“You have such a pretty cock Steve” you tell him, “I could kiss it all day long”

The tight rope in his belly was about to burst. Seeing you eyes hooded, making out with his giant cock in your small mouth was a sight that was going to be permanently seared in his mind.

“You’re such a good girl - shit, f-fuck yes, just like that, taking my big cock so good” he sputters out.

“Are you close Steve? I want your cum, I want to taste you so bad Steve”

Steve becomes a withering, moaning mess as your mouth takes his cock in whole.

“Fuck yes, baby, take my whole cock in your mouth”

You then became sloppy with it, choking on his cock, letting your spit coat every inch of his length. You began to pump the base of his cock as your tongue twirled on his now red mushroom tip. You took his whole length in your mouth one last time, letting it hit so far in the back of your throat that tears began to prick in the corner of your eyes.

“Choke on it baby, that’s s-so fucking good”

Once he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks it was over.

“I’m gonna c-cum, fuck, take my cum baby girl”

The fire in his belly ripped through him. His back arches off the bed, his hands came to grasp your face, letting his cum fill your mouth to the brim.

The air in the room feels heavy, the smell of cum and sweat wafts through the room. Your cheeks are full of his salty cum, you pull away from his now half-stiff cock, cum dribbling down your lips as you give him a dazed smile.

He’s never cum so hard before in his life. His chest heaves with quick breaths as he stares at your dazed face through hooded lids. His pupils have turned a darker shade of brown, he suddenly aches to claim you as his and only his.

Steve leans forward and grabs your face forcefully, slamming his lips onto yours. His tongue immediately enters your mouth, you don’t fight it, you’re completely puddy in his hands. He tastes his cum on your tongue, or rather what’s left of it.

Steve then pulls away, “Get on your knees” he orders you.

Steve watches as you shift positions onto your knees. Your hair is tousled, messy, and your cheeks still are stained with tears. He sees the gold cross pendant sitting against your chest. He grabs the chain with his hand, pulling you close to him,

“Who’s your God now?” He questions.

In the smallest voice you answer, “You, Steve”

His lips curl into a smirk.

“Open your mouth”

You open your mouth wide, pink tongue showing the creamy remains of his cum. Steve then hovers over you and spits in your mouth, cementing his claim over you - his dominance.

You swallow it, letting it mix with the remaining cum in your mouth. You were so focused on making him feel good that you had forgotten all about the ache in your cunt. You could feel how drenched your underwear was.

Like an animal in heat your hand finds its way to your throbbing cunt, your fingers making small circles onto your clit. Steve saw how desperate you were to reach your peak so he gently pulled you back up onto your knees. He pulled your back toward his chest and then he snaked one hand down your shorts and the other around your mouth, shoving his fingers down your throat.

“Shhh, lemme make you feel good. Fuck baby, you’re drentched, s’wet for me” he murmurs gently.

Your head is thrown back onto his shoulder, completely going limp as his thick fingers find their way into your hole. His hand then creeps around your neck, holding you in place.

“Fuck, Steve your fingers are so b-big, f-fuck!” you whine out.

He begins pumping furiously, you could hear the squelching of your slick cunt. He applied pressure onto your neck and his thumb brushed up against your clit and that’s all it took.

Like fireworks going off in your body you stilled, letting out a loud whine,

“S-Steve, I’m cumming so hard fuck!”

Your eyes flutter shut as Steve quickly moves his hand back to your mouth, covering it to quiet you down. The last thing he needed was your father walking in.

“Shh baby, you don’t want your dad to hear us huh?”

You’re too fucked out on his fingers to answer him, but your silence is enough. Your mind is in a haze, a dizzying effect after cumming so hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm, you let out a small whine as his fingers slip out of you, missing how full you felt with them inside of you.

You could only imagine how his cock felt.

Steve begins to press kisses all down your neck, nuzzling the side of your face. A warmth began blooming in his belly as he held you close to him.

“Someone has been studying their anatomy book” he murmurs against your ear.

He feels you chuckle, “Hmm what can I say Harrington, I aim to excel”

He pulls you down towards the bed, his body curling around yours. His fingers interlink with yours, and you bring it towards your chest, holding it close to you.

“I won’t stay here long, I promise …” you sleepily whisper out.

Reality then hits Steve with a ton of bricks as he completely realizes that if anyone in her family catches them together - his plan will go to shit. He completely forgot that he was using you, using you to get close to your family, to eventually kill your father, to take over all what you have.

But why couldn’t he let you go?

As your breathing begins to even out and you become completely relaxed in his arm, his realization comes to one conclusion.

He’s fucked.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

This is semi for me but mostly for my boyfriend. I'm already a decently big hairy bear (6'3 260 lbs) but I have a small size 11 feet. My boyfriend really really loves feet and I was hoping you help me give him a good anniversary gift by making mine bigger. I don't care how big. I just want him happy with them and me.

I’m always jealous when you men come here and say that you’re already hairy. 😌

But none the less. You want bigger feet to make your boy friend happy? Well my friend that is going to come at a cost. But I’m sure you’re more than willing to pay it. In the gym you’ll find yourself getting out of the shower wrapping a towel around your hairy waists when you feet and calves begin to spasm. Looking down you’re shocked to see your feet. Bulging with veins. Pulsating with each heart beat but they are also…getting bigger. Taking a seat you let the heat of change take over and your feet grow larger and thicker. Getting wider and definitely sweatier. Soon your feet look as though they have doubled in size making it so you will never wear your regular shoes again. And the hair that coats them is so thick and dark it looks like you leg hair hair didn’t stop growing. Even covering the thick stubby toes you now have. I’ve given you what you wanted. And a pair of heavy size 20 wides is definitely what a big bear of a man like you needs. But there’s also something else. As payment for these large feet you’ll need to sacrifice something. 260? For a bear like you. Tall and now with enormous feet! These thick’s sweaty soul are meant to carry some heavy weight. Your stomach begins to gurgle and you begin to burp. You panic not know what’s going on as you can feel pressure building. You look down and slowly you see your stomach pushing its way out. Losing the slimmer waists you have become accustomed to while a large round gut forces its way onto you torso. You try to push it back in but find it impossible. When you feel like you can’t take this immense pressure anymore it stops growing. Standing up you sway. Not even sure what just happened but looking down you can see the damage. You used to have a slight paunch to your hairy bear body but now you have a full blown gut. You go to the scale. 325 lbs. putting your hands on your head you’re shocked. How could this be. But what’s sad is I’ve thought more. And with a surge of energy your stomach blows out slightly. Hitting the scale weight and making them slam against the wall. Breaking the metal contraception. 350 lbs is more like a good weight for a big foots bear like you. And what’s even more is that with this heavy weight you now carry you’ll find it almost impossible to out those sweaty shoes on when you get them. Crocs maybe? That could be a good fit for you now. Let’s your boy friend decide because he’s going to be the ones that has to help you put them on. And sure I’m not completely evil. So I’ll even grant you the ability to lose some of this weight. But don’t think I’m that kind as your weight will never drop below 335 lbs ever again. You’re going to be a big bear now and for good.

[rifualk]

On Mental Health and Cosmic Embarrassment

I don't usually make a post in the aftermath of one of my spirals, so I bet most people see some of the vent posts I make, and assume I am just off my meds or something. I am on them but I might not be on the right ones. This is a thing that happens to me sometimes. I have psychotic episodes, where it feels like the things I am saying are completely inconsequential and I genuinely believe no one cares what I'm saying or, worst of all, that it cannot scare anyone that cares about me. I get too tired to fight my intrusive thoughts and I just ride them out. Most of my thoughts are not ones I enjoy having. I have trouble parsing what is real sometimes. For most of my life, out of a kind of primal shame and terror of being perceived or judged, I beat myself into believing that I just roleplayed as a crazy person online because I wanted attention for it, but it finally clicked for me at some point in my 20s that I was, and am, genuinely very mentally ill, maybe in ways that make me not-entirely-functional in the culture I inhabit. Also, I want attention for it.

Life is very embarrassing. I think embarrassment, shame, et al. is probably the most cosmic feeling of them all, because being embarrassed, for me anyway, leads invariably to my OCD extrapolating the embarrassment, no matter how slight, into its natural extreme, becoming a full-blown existential meltdown and often manifesting in some self-punishment. Or a lot of self-punishment. Instead of saying "everyone wants attention, it's not a big deal", my brain will overwhelm me with shame and make me vow to be quieter about the whole thing next time. Good emotions are meant to be expressed, I tell myself, and Bad ones are not. I think it's very unhealthy for people to not express their negative emotions openly. Or maybe I'm psychotic. I mean, I am psychotic. But maybe right now, too.

Ultimately this feeling peaks with the realization - again - that I'm a eukaryote. I live on a spinning ball of stardust in the aftermath of what had to have been a colossal disaster and waste of time. But it happened, and so now there's a bunch of stuff floating around, and some of that stuff started moving for reasons I don't personally understand and the implications of which scare me. And the moving stuff that moved faster got to stay moving longer. And so a chain reaction escalated, and eventually there were very large moving things whose survival adaptations had evolved in such a way that they could conceptualize and communicate complex information about the world around them, but they were also able to conceptualize themselves. This gave them a lot of grief. They wanted very badly for there to be an answer to why they were able to do that. Surely it served some purpose. But we never found one, and here we are.

I don't have a god to turn to. I have tried - earnestly, sincerely, and desperately - to reach out; I never hear back. I don't want to be an atheist, it's heartbreaking. Honestly. I want someone to be up there, or out there. Knowing there isn't, is just... cruel. It's horrifying and it wrenches my heart. Look at us, look how much we're suffering, where the fuck did you go, what the fuck is your problem? Help us!

In spite of everything, I am still not sure what I believe.

Don't you ever just cry about the world? Like, broadly? Don't you ever just have to take off your glasses and wipe the brine from them because you caught a glimpse of what people, as a species, could be capable of? And I get angry at myself, too. What am I doing about it? What even can I do? I can barely hold down a job. I am barely an adult. I am often mired in this feeling. It permeates everything. I'm living in a tragedy - not just my own, but millions and millions of others'. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare and I'm an embarrassment, and my brain doesn't work right, and I'm living in a terrible reality that is shared by everyone, and yet somehow equally isolating and alienating to all of us. Does it have to be that way? Aren't we all lonely?

When I am spiraling I really do think that the end is near, either for me, or for everyone, or for both. To be fair, my confidence about humanity's future is not promising even when I am at my most sane. But in this kind of emotional place, the stakes are too high for me to care that what I say might come off as upsetting. It is completely overwhelming. I see my life up to this point, and I see how long I've been alive and realize I'm very Not Normal and I look and sound different than everyone around me and I'm an embarrassment. It's embarrassing to exist. It's embarrassing to be transgender, too. It's really, really embarrassing to be mentally ill and fully aware of it all the time. It's shameful. I am ashamed of how my family likely sees me. How my peers see me. I'm just a walking disaster. I feel like this bars me from leading a happy life or finding some success in art - It doesn't seem like you're allowed to be quite this much of a problem and "get away with it", does it? There's a bit of social sanitizing at work there - you are only allowed to be a certain level of messed up and if you pass that you're sort of a pariah. I don't think I've ever done anything pariah-worthy, but I can only see things from the inside of my own head, and there's a lot of unwanted noise in here.

I painted this when I lived in Oregon. I don't know how. I could not do art like this again if asked.

I'm not in a good place, generally-speaking. It could be worse - and it was for a long time- but it's still just not great. The main reason is that I am very homesick. I grew attached to the Pacific Northwest in a way I've never really grown attached to any other place. It had a quality that exists nowhere else. It resonated with me immediately and I knew right away from the moment I first set foot there that it was my home. I grew to be a part of it, and it's the only place I felt I somewhat-belonged... I have been away from Oregon for 2 whole years as of next month. I feel like I'm a fish out of water, or a sapling in the wrong soil. I can't and won't say that the place I live currently is a bad place, but it isn't my place, and the disconnect has been maybe the nastiest shock to my system in all my life. Finding the place I loved, and living for over 12 years there, only to be wrenched away from it so suddenly, left a shock on me that I think has yet to surface in my work. I'm excited to see what form it takes when it does. Location is very important to my mental wellbeing, more than I think it is for most people. Maybe I am a plant. It's also very important for my art. I've struggled to find inspiration since I moved here. That said, I've had the very precious opportunity to just work on myself - on my transition, as well as my personal issues. I think I'm getting better, gradually, in some way. I have a job now, at least. So it's not entirely bad. I even grew sunflowers last summer.

Around this time I got banned from twitter, but I don't feel any shame about the reason why because I believe in my message. But it forced me to be a lot less active online for a long time. It also made me lose a lot of support. That's been something I've grappled with a lot these last 2 years - that people really don't like people like me, for reasons that are mostly not our fault. I will likely always be something of an outsider for being who I am now, but I was one before anyway. It's still worth it. I like the person I'm becoming. I feel like only recently did I allow myself to feel this self-love. I was too embarrassed of myself. It took a lot of patience and a lot of de-tangling my self-worth from a lot of trauma. So it's likely I would have needed to go through all of this regardless of where I was.

I still slip up. It's an uphill climb and it's slippery. I like to be transparent about these things. It's a relief - feeling like I need to hide things is my default state and it's lovely to just let go of stuff so I don't need to keep it in my head all the time. I have a lot of hangups still. I get discouraged about my art still - I fear I'll never build myself back up to where I was before, and that there will never be a time when I can really pay the bills with it. Or worse-still, that it just isn't special enough to last. That it isn't remarkable enough to survive after I'm gone. But I think a lot of people who make stuff feel that way, and it's not our fault. There's some relief in that. I'm happy to have even a few people that care about me and my work, and something I've been trying really hard to remember in recent years is to take time to appreciate them. I'm not actually alone. I have a lot of people that love me. I'm not an outsider. I'm very lucky to know the people I do, and I hold a deep regret for all the connections I've let go of because I was just too sick. Deep down I really do wish I could love everyone. I have no ill will towards anyone, not really.

I still don't know what I'm doing. I am just doing my best, I think. I'm really, really tired. I don't want to get any older. I'm scared of the passage of time. My memory is so bad, it feels like time is taken from me without me realizing. I am 33 years old. I do not have 33 years worth of memories. There are huge leaps. Gaps where suddenly I was just older and in more pain. Being adrift in time like this is horrific - one day I will blink, and the present moment may be completely forgotten. It can't go this fast. It just can't. Something has to be wrong. I don't want to die, I don't want to miss out on so much life or be unable to remember it. I don't want to find myself on my deathbed someday way sooner than I think and be unable to string together any kind of coherent thread from my memories. What is it all for? It has to mean something right? Why am I doing anything?

I think I finally understand that love is why. I don't know much more than that. Love is real, and it's the answer. If you find love, don't take it for granted, ever. No love is perfect. Take it with all its flaws. You don't have time to bargain with it. Love like you'll never love again, love like it's your last day alive, love like it will keep you alive forever, because it will. Every year closer to death you get, you will feel the regret of all the times you did not follow your heart. Life is short. I'm finding this out entirely too late. It goes by so fast, and what you have at the end are people and memories of being loved. To be loved is to live forever. It's the thing that connects us to everything else. It's the source and the answer to everything. It makes more sense the older I get. It used to sound cheesy, but I believe it with more sincerity every day.

I'll be okay, okay

I once promised someone that I would stop self-harming. They are no longer in my life, but I kept the promise anyway. There are no new scars on my arms, or bruises on my head or face. I'm keeping this promise for myself, now.

[imaginethezeldaverse]

The Desert's Moon (Ganondorf x Reader) (NSFW)

Welcome, welcome to the 100 follower fic I set all those polls for! You all chose and waited so patiently, so please allow me to give you the winner: a good fic with our big bad guy, Ganondorf (Tears of the Kingdom version). This will be nsfw, and just to be safe, be wary of any spoilers below the cut, okay? For this fic I'm running with an idea that was dropped in my inbox - initially I had planned to make it a simple headcanon post, but since he won, I'm writing it as a full blown fic instead. Thank you all for voting, it sincerely means a lot, I cannot believe even more of you have followed me since then. The comments and appreciation from you all truly makes my day. 🥹 As for the theme: you are inexperienced (we'll even say virginal) and Ganondorf here is going to be your first. Let's explore that together, shall we? Reader is gender neutral for all to enjoy. I sniped some fictional Gerudo language from here because I mean Ganondorf is a Gerudo man...he definitely should be able to speak the language.

Ganondorf is intimidating, this much is true. His demeanor exudes power in all things he does: fight, lead, and even fuck. He's had many a partner, his skills as a lover growing with each encounter of his past. He is not unfamiliar with experienced partners - and he will show you the patience and slowness you deserve.

The key is for you to be honest with him. Should you try to front as though you are experienced in sex, just know that he can see right through you. Ganondorf's read on body language is exceptional - so the slight shake in your body or the quiver in your voice is an immediate alert to him that you aren't what you're trying to portray yourself as. To your benefit however, he'll most likely find this cute. You attempting to be brave and take him head on is adorable, even though you have no idea what you'd be getting into (or really what would be getting into you). Being upfront however is not without its loss - you'd gain his respect and potentially a chance to call him an equal, he likes the idea of a long-term partner who can be honest with themselves as well as him.

For a man of his size and status, he's quite gentle. He offers to hold you first in your nudity, get you used to feeling his body against yours. Ganondorf will most likely seat you in his lap, with your legs splayed open over the length of his hips and thighs. Should you shy away or find yourself embarrassed by the less than polite way you're sat on him, he'll simply chuckle, reiterating that this is to acclimate you. His hands will find a place on your thighs, unmoving, but present. "Touch me anywhere you'd like," he offers, the rich amber of his eyes meeting your own. Setting the pace in your favor will help ease some of your apprehension. Your hands explore the planes of his body: his adept, powerful hands; the sizable, muscular curvatures of his forearms and biceps; over the thickened bands of his shoulders and down to the broad expanse of his chest. He's a mountainous man in size and that alone has you a tiny bit afraid, but you also can't deny that being able to trace your fingertips over the patterned tattoos that stretch across his muscles doesn't elate you.

When your hands finally cup the wide angles of his jaw, you find the pluck to once more lock eyes with the Gerudo chief. There's something unreadable swimming in them: whether it's tenderness or restraint you aren't wholly sure. His arm wraps around your lower back, bring you ever closer to him in a swift push. Your hands remain on his face, lips inching closer. Ganondorf doesn't kiss you. No, he wants you to be the one to take the honor of taking the first step. The world talks of his lust and greed for power, and make no mistake, the rumors are very much true. But this - intimacy with you - Ganondorf knows better than to rush. Taking you by force serves him little, and there is humanity in him still that bars him from wanting any harm to come to you. To feel your body yearn for him willingly only makes that much sweeter. Your breaths mingle momentarily, your heart pounding in your chest until you finally take the plunge and seal the gap. You're chaste in your kiss, timidity holding your tongue. No matter, the sensation of his thick digits roaming over the curve of your ass has you gasping enough against his mouth for him to coax you into a deeper kiss. Unbeknownst to you, your head tilts naturally, angling so that you can continue the kiss comfortably. You let go of his face, your fingers sliding into his long vermillion locks. There's a sound vibrating at the back of his throat that hits your ears so pleasantly - the simple soothing sensation of your hands in his hair delights him, so naturally he wants you to know it. The kiss builds heat, your body slowly beginning to want his hands to move beyond your backside. You lean into him, pressing your chest to his and linking your arms around his neck. The smile that curls his lips upward is something you can feel, and you almost smile back - but his hands that have now occupied a space on your hips are dragging your body over his lap. Ganondorf parts from your mouth, watching you bite your lip as he slowly grinds you over what you realize is his length beginning to grow rigid beneath you. Breaths slowly starting to come in shudders you snap your eyes shut, focusing on how his length slides teasingly over where you biologically know he's going to be soon enough.

"Do you feel me?" he purrs, dark tiger eyes trained on your flushed features, "Do you feel my want for you? My desire?" Your thighs are seeking one another to lock this feeling between them, but his hulking mass keeps them widely separated - your center at the mercy of his ministrations. Seeking purchase, your nails dig into his shoulders, earning a pleased rumble from the man. His lips find the hollow of your throat, easing pointed kisses and gentle bites to your sensitive flesh. Soft moans sound angelic to Ganondorf's ears; with ease he lifts you into his arms, your legs still very much wrapped as best as possible around his torso. Smooth, crimson silks caress your back as you're laid across the stretch of his bed. He doesn't stop kissing your body, only proceeds to move down it. Your collarbone, your nipples, the softness of your stomach: all places his lips tease and touch. He drinks your whines and whimpers in as though starving, an innate need to hear your voice call out to him ever growing. Still, he keeps slow. Rough finger pads glide down your body, stroking and fondling a pathway until he settles on his knees, with your legs splayed open by the sheer width of him. Those kisses that traveled now dot their way from your knee and inward. Your breath hitches, you know where he's going...you desperately want him there. As he reaches closer and closer, you shudder out, "P-Please...Gan..." Those initially amber slits, now ochre with hunger, slide up to see your face. Your cheeks are stained with reddish hues with your chest rising and falling faster than before.

"Is there something you need?" the timbre in his voice makes somewhere your stomach clench. How is it just his voice makes you feel this way? What kind of spell has he cast on you? Though your mind tries to wrack itself with answers, it always circles back to the lips that are nipping at your inner thighs. He places a kiss just close enough for you to feel his breath over your sex and you swallow thick with the gasp that tries to free itself.

"Your...mouth..." says you in a shaky whine, "Please..."

Like satin and fire, his chuckle is both suave but with the promise of something vile. A strong grip parts your legs further, holding you wide open. You try desperately not to look at how he drinks your nudeness in, fearing that you seeing the sheer lust flashing across his strong features will have you curl into yourself.

His mouth descends.

You gasp sharply.

Hot and wet is his tongue against your opening, circling your responsive flesh, his eyes never leaving your face. Ganondorf watches on as his silver tongue devours you, each lap and suck at you surging pleasure through your limbs. With one last scoop at your hole, he drew back. There was a question at your lips when you felt him retreat, but before you could even get a word out, you felt his finger carefully slide into you.

"A-Ah!" you mewled, then hissed. Given the size of him overall, even his fingers were substantial in filling you somewhat.

"Shhhhh," Ganondorf hushed your seizing frame. A hand came to your thigh, his thumb stroking in soothing circles the same time his opposite finger exited you, "Relax, my va'ina, you'll need to be much more open if you plan to take me." Your body shudders as you breathe, willing yourself to relax yourself in his ministrations. Having already gave you some slickness there, his finger meets less resistance than normal. His eyes roam your figure slowly, watching all of the small shivers and shakes that begin to build as his digit steadily works in and out of you. A spark of want pulses up your hips, with each coax of his finger you felt tiny rivulets of desire multiply inside you.

"Ganondorf..." came your gentle plea. This feeling was slowly starting to feel inadequate, your hips moving ever so slightly to try and chase the sensation of fullness. Chuckling at your urgency, the Gerudo chieftain withdraws his finger - adding another and sliding back into you. Eyelashes aflutter, you mewl at the sensation of being filled once more.

"There we are," he mused, smirking at the way you're snatching your bottom lip between your teeth. Gradually his fingers stretched you open, separating minutely as he fed your body each stroke. As soon as you had acclimated, you found yourself once again needing more. His hand, though making you feel good, was simply proving not to be enough. Ganondorf recognizes this as your features scrunch with some frustration. You need him, don't you? You need more than just two measly fingers to give you the passion that you seek.

"Your body seeks more than my current attentions I see," he says matter-of-factly, withdrawing his now very wet digits.

You turn your head away to blush, being read like an open book made your body burn with some embarrassment. Yet Ganondorf understood. He lifts your leg by your calf, pressing a kiss into the muscle there. "No worry, I'll give you everything you seek." He sits upright now, towering over your supine frame, a hand at each of your knees. You know what comes next, and though you tremble under him, there's a fire in those eyes of his that keeps you brave. Fingers descend upon his. He catches your gaze, doe-like and nervous, but no sign of withdrawal within them.

"You'll go slow, won't you?" you ask him, your heart mere seconds away from jumping out of your chest. There's an expectation for him to laugh at such an innocent, if not naïve question - but he surprises you when his hand takes your chin between two large fingers and keeps your eyes to his. Softness unlike you've ever seen in him stares back at you. "I wouldn't dream of bringing you harm, va'ina, you're safe with me." His words bring you comfort, allowing you shut your eyes in readied bliss. To reflect this, you spread your legs further apart, "Then I am yours, Ganondorf."

His lips find yours, hungry in its kiss. As his tongue melds against yours, he slips a hand down to grasp himself. You feel the slight shift of his body on yours, strong thighs flush to the backs of yours. He parts from the kiss, though his face remains close, "Ready?" Unable to trust your voice, you simply nod. His muscular frame surrounds your body, encasing you in his warmth. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you inhale sharply when he presses into you. Considerable length and girth stretch you far more than his fingers could even attempt. He's slow, methodical in his pace. So much so that he stops, just past the head of him, the second you tense in his arms.

"Breathe..." coaches Ganondorf, his voice showing the tiniest hint of strain. Though shaky, you try to follow his advice, and it calms your body enough for him to advance. Your mouth drops open from the pressure, hands gripping his shoulders for purchase as another inch fills you. The man above pecks loving kisses to your face as he sneaks a hand downward. He revels in the pleased gasp you let out when his fingers stroke your sex, "That's it...open up for me..." With him steadily plunging into your depths and the deliberate tease of his hand at your most sensitive area, you recognize that same spark from earlier.

Want. Need.

He slides in further still, about at halfway down the whole of him now. His hand doesn't relent on your flesh, easing over you with the intent to build the ecstasy he knows you're absentmindedly chasing. Ganondorf has every intention to bring you to rapture, but again - at your pace. There's a tremor in your thighs that shakes against his hips, he gives you more of him; but the noise you let out this time is a moan muffled only by the barrier of your bitten lip. He grins at this, supply your body with just a bit more. No reaction this time - you were getting used to him. His fingers stroke you for a few more counts, this being just enough for you to take him all the way to the hilt. You keen slightly, so impossibly full and almost dizzy from how overwhelmingly large he feels inside of you.

"Stay with me, love" he whispers, his opposite thumb stroking your cheek. The deep octave of his voice and the tender caress soothe you enough to lean into his touch. Ganondorf captures your lips once more, this kiss slower than the last. His hips remain still though his tongue ravages your mouth, and it pulls a licentious moan from you; the knowledge of him locked deep inside you as he kisses you so fervently has you yearning for what you know you want most. His mouth moves into your neck, and without hesitation your fingers bury into his fiery mane. There's a slight withdrawal of his hips, and you welcome the feeling now, the minor shift of friction feeding into a feeling at the most basic level of your instincts.

"More," your quivered voice speaks in his ear, "P-Please."

He's touched at your politeness, though it's unnecessary. You are a being to be worshipped in this regard, though you didn't realize it, you would never need to beg from him. Touching his forehead to your own, Ganondorf rumbles deep in his chest, pulling almost all of the way out of you before sliding all the way back in. "Nnngh, yes..." Ah, all he needed to hear. Adept hands place themselves at two points: a fist near your head for steadying, and a hand bracing underneath your back to keep you there. Leisurely, shallow thrusts easily evolved into deep, harder strokes. Your body would transform - blossom from tightly wound and tense to fully open and wanting.

The Gerudo male knows you're fully spellbound by your lovemaking when your nails begin to bite into the muscle of his shoulder blades - a most welcome pinch of pain. He's fully working you into you now, his hips immovable pistons to fuck you fully now. Your sweet and soft moans were climbing in crescendo, his name tumbling in slurred syllables off your honey covered tongue. Unable to stop himself now, Ganondorf growled into the junction of your neck and shoulder, pulling your body as flush to him as he could.

"Ah, ohh, mmf! Ahhhh G-Gan," you whined, clinging to him, "My body's on fire...I nghh I...!"

He feels you tightening around him, his pants are harsh as they dampen your skin, "Let it happen...let me have all of you." With only a few strokes of him you fall apart in a scream, your body winding up impossibly tight and then loosening entirely. The orgasmic pulse of your slickness around him milks him with an ungodly grip. He fucks you as fast as your body will allow, a few resounding claps against your flesh combining with the cries of your slight overstimulation that finally bring him to his own end. His strong fingers dig into you as he cums, hot and fast, in a wildly indecent roar. Your hands hold him in his place on your body, welcoming every drop of the licentious liquid that he spills inside of you. His hips begin to slow, still sliding in and out of your now sopping hole, and though you were already long finished, you moan at the sensation of his cock pulsing and feeding your body even now.

When he finally can take no more, he pulls from you entirely in a rough grunt. You feel the weeping of his seed from your entrance, but you are far too exhausted to care. Your body hums in pleasured bliss, but your limbs, so worn from a use you'd yet to experience until today, feel akin to lead. Never an issue, however, as Ganondorf carefully maneuvers you both so you can rest comfortably: with you at his side. His fingers traced the curves and lines of your body in silence, your hand and head rest at his chest.

"Gan...?" your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes lazily move to you. Your heart flutters with candid bravery, "...I love you."

He smiles at this. Fitting words for a connection as deep as this. His hand covers your head, pressing you closer to his chest in a protective maneuver. Ganondorf is anything but vulnerable...but even a man as mighty as he isn't incapable of feeling.

"You have my heart, va'ina. You are mine as I am yours."

You hum contentedly, happy to fall asleep in the arms of the man who loved you.

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 7

Also a very Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate! And Free Palestine.

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic.Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @dark-night-sky-99 @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis

Word count: 3,4k

Masterlist

Part 6~Part 8

Us Weekly:  

“Carlos Sainz seen with a new girl on the paddock.”  

People Magazine:  

“Carlos Sainz’s new girl proves to be a fashion icon.”  

Elle Magazine: 

“Carlos Sainz seen dancing in the rain with his new girlfriend.”  

Cosmopolitan Magazine:  

“Is this new girl just a fling or here to stay?”  

You can see the news articles flash before you in full HD on the new phone Carlos got you. Fully signed in on everything. Not only that but your Instagram has blown up already. Ten thousand new followers since you last uploaded a picture with you standing by the paddock. You haven’t had time to reply to any comments or new dm’s, because you were on a flight 6 am Monday. 

“So, how was your first F1 weekend?” You know its Charles talking to you, but you’d much rather not even open your eyes right now. Eventually, you decide to be courteous, and you see he looks more than excited to talk to you. You gather up all your strength and put on the best smile you can. “It was a lot more fun than I expected. But there was also a lot of sitting around.”  

He nods and continues. “Yes, Alexandra usually stays home for most gp’s. She usually only comes for the important ones, like Italy where were going now. It’s strange that Carlos brought you to Zandvoort for your first time.” Your mind feels foggy and thinking of a reason why seems almost useless. Where is Carlos, can’t he do all this for you?  

“Yeah um, he was just so excited,” it seems good enough but thinking feels like such a chore. “Are you okay?” He asks, going closer to see if you’re okay. “Yeah, I’m uh fine...It’s just...” just then your saviour comes. Carlos sits down beside you, unaware of the conversation. “Are you not feeling better yet?” Almost instinctively you wrap your hands around his arm.  

You wouldn’t usually do this. Normally you’d be more aware of your relationship and making sure Carlos is ready. But right now thinking feels above your capacity. “Is she sick?” Charles asks and Carlos can feel the jealousy grow in his stomach. It takes everything in him not to glare at his teammate or tell him to back off.  

“Yeah, smoking withdrawals. I just don’t know what to do to help.” He pulls your hair out of your face. Charles sighs, “I’m sorry mate,” he pats you on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you then and get to know your girl later on.” When Charles is gone, Carlos takes you under the arms and pulls you closer into his arms, cradling you.  

“I got you something,” that gets you to look up but what is in his hands disappoint you. It’s a green smoothie and a big sandwich. “You brought me healthy food? You monster,” you groan taking the sandwich from him and taking a big bite. He chuckles but continues to rub circles on your back.  

“I don’t like Charles talking to you.” He mumbles, you know he’s talking to himself mostly. “He’s going to talk to me, Carlos. You take me everywhere, and where you go, he goes.” You chuckle, thinking back to the weekend. He only hums as a reply. “I’m sorry that I’m like this. I know you don’t want this.”  

You mumble, still enjoying your sandwich, taking sip from your fresh drink. He sighs and shakes his head. “You keep saying that. What on earth do you mean?” There is annoyance in his voice, you can hear it and it makes you stiffen. He’s never been annoyed with you before. “I read a few articles about our...agreement. They all say you daddies want stress-free, low-maintenance always happy girls.” 

He scoffs at you, “Siempre tan terca. Do you believe everything they say on the internet?” He asks, now regretting giving you the new phone and unlimited data plan. “So far what they’ve said about you and me has been true.” You shrug, finishing your sandwich as you think back. There were even TikTok's.  

“Oh yeah, and what do they say?” He asks, peering down as you finish your drink. “Well, that I’m incredibly fashionable and also a gold digger.” You chuckle watching as he rolls his eyes at you again. Then he stares you down, taking your chin between his fingers. “Didn’t I tell you, mi querida, you and I are more.”  

You can see his eyes flicker to your lips, and you’re entranced by his. The silence between you is deafening and you can feel your head spinning. “Can I kiss you?” the words are on the tip of your tongue, but you just don’t have the guts to ask. “I’m sorry you had a bad weekend.” He licks his lips and then takes your empty cup and paper and places it on the table.  

Carlos then takes you in his arms again and holds you tight once more. His smell almost seems to get rid of your headache. “It’s alright, this weekend will be better. I’m sure, because then you’ll feel better and you can be by my side. And with you by my side, the world championship will be mine in no time.”  

You giggle and curl yourself closer into his side. “Call it my 50%. Being your good luck charm.” He laughs and then pulls you closer to him. “I must warn you my dear, Italy is the home of Ferrari. The Tifosi are...enthusiastic to say the least.” His cheeks almost go pink at the thought of just how excited some of them can be.  

“They can’t be that bad...” you mutter, languidly making small circles on his thigh. He laughs, “I mean, without them we wouldn’t have met.” You turn on your back so that you can look up at him. “Was that the screaming I heard that day?” He smirks and nods. “Why were you running from them? And why didn’t you want to tell me then?” You ask, watching his eyes intensely like always.  

He leans back, now his hands are in your hair. You can feel your headache dissipating as his big strong hands untangle any knots that hid from you. “Sometimes, I just want to roam the streets of Paris without being bombarded to take photos. And I didn’t tell you because I was scared you might be one of them and have a... similar reaction.”  

You can’t help but let out a laugh. “Did it disappoint you when I didn’t fall to my knees and kiss your shoes?” He lets out a sigh at your shenanigans. “It was nice for someone to show me kindness because they are human not because of what I do.” This does make your heart melt; you can’t help yourself.  

You let your hands reach up and touch his cheek, letting his scruff tickle your hands. “Tell me, how can I be that person for you? What more can I do for you?” He takes your hand and holds it close before he places a kiss on your palm. “Don’t ever change. Not for me, not for your family, not for your future. Don’t ever let the world take away that smile, or that sprakle in your eyes.”  

His words bring tears to your eyes, and you can’t help but use the sleeves of your (his) hoodie to wipe away the forming tears. “Why do you cry, mi amor?” He asks, his brows furrowing to a point between his brows. You can just shake your head. “I’m just emotional, is all.” He shakes his head and the continues massaging your scalp.  

“Get some sleep, mi amor.”  

You’re awoken by a door opening. Not a plane door, a hotel door. It takes a few moments to realise, but you’re tucked in deep into the soft comforter. The room is dark, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to get use to the light. Then, you see Carlos coming closer and then squatting down next to the bed.  

“Good morning, sleepy head. I was starting to get worried that you’d gotten sick.” He says, pushing the hair out of your face. “Good morning?” You ask, starting to sit up, confused by the dark room. He smirks along with a chuckle. “Shall I open the curtains?” He then stands and you watch him as he walks across the hotel room to the window.  

The light floods in and you peak your head back under the covers. “What time is it?” You ask, listening as he walks about. “It’s about 12-ish.” This doesn’t seem so bad, but Carlos said you’d go to the gym as soon as you landed. The realisation causes you to throw the comforter off. 

He tsks, coming over and smoothing the furrow between your brows. “Why would you let me sleep that long?” You ask with just a bit of a whine in your tone. “Because you are sick and need the rest.” You huff and push out your bottom lip. “I missed our first gym session,” you whine. For once you were looking forward to it and you can see by his wet hair that he already went and already showered.  

After all, you did see the Instagram story he posted on Friday morning. The thought of seeing him hot and sweaty is enough to get your workout shoes on. Again, he tsks and shakes his head. “Not while you’re recovering. You can take a walk, get some fresh air but that is it until you start to feel better.”  

Carlos’ voice is stern and leaves no room to argue. For now, you’ll just have to continue keeping a close eye on his Instagram. “I bought something for you.” He smiles, walking over to the bag he had placed on the couch in the hotel room. There is a pep in his step. He brings over two boxes and two bags, both from name brands that you’ve only ever dreamed of owning.  

He looks so excited to see you open the boxes and honestly you too are gleaming with elation. The first box is flat and you open it to pull out a beautiful hand spun white boho maxi-dress. “It’s hotter in Italy,” he explains before you open the next box. Its beautiful brown woven sandals to match with the boho effect. Lastly, the bag.  

The shopping bag has the unmistakable Prada logo. “You shouldn’t have,” you mutter feeling your heartbeat rise. His glare makes you want to eat your words. You take the bag out as if it is ancient Chinese porcelain. The bag matches perfectly with the sandals. The same brown with the same woven effect.  

“Oh, it’s gorgeous Carlos, thank you so much.” You reach over and pull him tight into a hug. You can smell his musky deodorant and it makes you never want to let go. “I saw all these and instantly thought of you.” He smiles and then continues. “Lastly, they made special Ferrari merch for Italy.” He explains, taking out the red, yellow and black shirt. Along with a cap with the same colour theme.  

“You like them? They make me think more Spanish flag than Italy. It suits you,” you smirk with a raised brow. Once again reminded by his strong accent. He only shrugs, “Doesn’t really matter if I like them or not. Wear or don’t wear, that’s up to you.” You gasp and this time it’s your turn to scold them.  

“No, Carlos. You must stand up for yourself.” He smirks at your reaction and raises his brow. “Is that so? I’ll keep that in mind next time you push out that bottom lip of yours.” He replies, giving your lip a swipe and then going on. “Now go get dressed. We’re going out for brunch; you must be hungry.”  

“The view is really beautiful, hold on let me send you guys a photo.” You take a picture from the balcony. In clear view is a beautifully crafted, over 500-year-old church. Not only that but you have a perfectly clear view of the circuit. If you wanted to, you could watch the race from the balcony. Knowing Carlos, he would prefer it so.  

“Woah, girl. Isn’t that so cool? In a five-star hotel in Italy right next to the formula one track.” Jasmine says over the phone. You can’t help but chuckle. “How are you feeling?” Ilsa asks, not as impressed by the fancy location. “Better, he’s really been taking good care of me.” You explain thinking back. “Oo, do tell.” It’s Jas again.  

“He let me sleep in his arms on the plane and even tucked me in and let me sleep more. He woke me up with gifts,” you can’t talk more before Jasmine demands to know what the gifts are. “He got me this beautiful dress, and brand-new shoes. Both name brand. And you’ll never guess what.” You begin but don’t even allow them to guess. “He got me my very first Prada bag.”  

You can hear screaming through the phone while you send them a photo. As well as the Instagram photos Carlos took for you. “He took these photos for you?? Damn girl, he knows all your best angles.” You blush at Jas’ words. “It seems all too good to be true...” Ilsa seems to speak your thoughts out loud.  

“Yes, there are some small things that seem a bit odd.” They both go a bit quiet. “Like?” Ilsa asks, and you know this might ring alarm bells for them. “He has these two bodygaurds to follow me everywhere.” You get two wildly different reactions. Jas coos and Ilsa gasps. “And I feel a bit like he’s babying me.”  

Ilsa asks for you to explain. “Well he’s working with a dietitian to make sure I get all my daily vitamins, and once I get better, he got me a personal trainer.” They both are dead silent. “That is a bit strange...” This time it’s Jasmine talking. “That doesn’t seem normal at all,” it’s Ilsa talking, and you know she’s right.  

“But it’s the terms I agree too so I can’t really say anything about it.” There isn’t much else to be said. “I suppose, but as soon as he crosses a line, you’ll leave him, right?” Ilsa asks and you bite your lip. “That’s the thing. He hasn’t tried to do anything to me, even once. He’s been nothing but kind to me. He keeps saying he and I will become something more but so far it’s only been words.”  

They hum as a reply, “Maybe you should make the first move?” Jas suggests and Ilsa scolds her for it. “That’s the thing, I don’t know if I want that. What if it makes things weird between us? What if I do make the first move and that’s all he sees me as after? What if I do make a move and he just wanted someone to talk to and he ditches me?” You can hear your friends roll their eyes at you. “You’re overthinking it, Y/N. If it’s meant to be, it will be. For now, just enjoy the lavish life and look hot. That’s your job.”  

The conversation plays in your head over and over. Who is right? Jasmine or Ilsa? Should you just enjoy the luxuries he gives you, or question his actions? Why is he doing all this for you? You read online that Sugar Daddies like to spoil. Take their babies on trips and buy them anything and everything. But do they form diet plans and make sure you get a full 8 hours of sleep?  

Do they tuck you into bed at night, and get you medication to help with smoking withdrawals? Do they hire a personal trainer to make sure you stay in healthy body? Do they tell you, you’re their person and promise to visit your family? Are there lines being crossed? Should you be more wary? Or should you just shut up and enjoy it?  

You toss and turn at night. It’s already 2 in the morning, Carlos had you going to bed at ten. Like you said, he wants you getting a full night’s rest. You just can’t sleep. Likely due to the withdrawals but also due to the storming thoughts in your mind. And you remember feeling this same way all of last weekend.  

The only other thing that got you to sleep last weekend, was Carlos. Being wrapped in his arms and surrounded by his scent. Now that you’re sleeping in separate rooms, would it be weird for you to ask for him to hold you? How weird is that? Would that be considered making the first move? You know for a fact that Carlos would be seething if he found out you didn’t sleep at all.  

You open the door, there are different bodyguards here. Likely the night shift and it feels so eerie to have them standing there. There aren’t even any by his door and you know other drivers are staying here and you haven’t seen them have any bodyguards. “Um, excuse me?” You grab their attention, but they don’t seem to notice.  

“Do you maybe have a keycard for Carlos’ room?” The taller of the two reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a keycard and then hands it to you. “Thank you,” you smile up at him but get little reaction. You keep across the hall and open his door with a click.  

His room is the same as yours, but reversed. You can see from here that he is sound asleep. You can feel a pang of guilt hit you at just the thought of waking him up for something this silly. He looks so peaceful, not stressed, or anxious about his future. No he seems entirely at content to be drifting away in Dreamland.  

Do you really have to wake him? Can't you just return? It's a nice thought, but you can't help but remember last weekend. You were too exhausted to even enjoy the energy and the surrealism of the moment. You spent most of the time as a zombie in Carlos' room. And when the actual finished, you had been sitting in the garage and only registered when Carlos came up to you.  

Needless to say he was furious when he found out truly just how little you slept. And how well you hid it from him. You'd gotten use to putting up a smile and hiding the exhaustion from the people most important to you. He told you that your health was on the same level of priority as his racing to him. Which, honestly, blew your mind.  

Your health has always been on the back burner. Something you'll worry about when you have more money and more time. Now you have an abundance of both and still can't help but ignore it. Because if you adress it, it makes it real.  

Now, as you stand besides his bead, you can't help but feel like a child. Is that how he sees you? As a responsiblity he's here to dress and take care of? Is that why he won't kiss you? Why his touch is soft and gentle and never show anything more than worry?  

If you leave now, you know for a fact those goons outside your door will definitely tell him. Likely, they would tell him that you didn't sleep too. Just do it! You had practiced the words so well before. This is the first time you've truly wanted for something. He's taken care of everything else before you could even think about it. But now you have to ask him for something.  

You gently tap his arm, no reaction. He must be a deep sleeper. This time you shove a bit harder, it's difficult to see exactly what you're shoving especially with the black out curtains. This time, however, he does stir and you can only assume awoke when words spill from his mouth.  

“What is wrong, mi dulce chica?” He asks, already his hand gently caressing your arm. You take a deep breath in and try not to think of your next words too much. “Daddy, I can't sleep.” You can't see his reaction but soon after he opens up the duvet and his arms. Queuing for you to join him.  

This. This is exactly what you needed. He cradles your head between his arms. Your knees pressed between his legs. You body perfect matching his. That small. The smell of a hot summer day. Of his musky deodorant and what you can only describe as a day in the beach. If you could bottle his scent, you're certain you'd make millions.  

You had so many questions that you wanted to ask him. But now as you're cuddled in his arms, your thoughts just melt away. Into a nice and warm sheen over your body. Sleep comes easy.

My tag list is open!

[nescaveckwriter]

Invisible Wall🩷

Line: Broken Vows 😱 will be in bold

A/N: YAY! Yet another one done for @jacklesversebingo 🐞 so excited for this one, and its a little bit of 'Beau Arlen' 🤩.. hope y'all like it.

Warnings: Some language, also slight smut😱 that's all so far I know.!

Characters: Beau Arlen x Reader

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:1209

"Hell no! I can't do this anymore, I can't go on pretending everything is fine, when it's not" she thought to herself glancing at the man, whom she shares a bed with! Inspecting his face as he sleeps, his brown hair, draped over his forehead, his eyes closed, his lips relaxed as he probably dreams, about something other than you.

Your not really sure when the relationship started to shift, but it's been a while now. The two of you share a bed, but it's like there's this invisible wall, between your bodies, as neither one of you hold eachother anymore.

A half smile forming on your lips as you recall the love you two shared, the way you could not keep your hands of eachother, the way your bodies were entwined till the early morning hours, tired the whole day at work as the two of you would lay all tangled up, talking for hours, about your dreams, and building a future together, but now it feels like that passion, that love, is crumbling. And now your realising all you have left is broken vows.

To have and to hold forever and always seems so unreachable, so far fetched, so painstakingly far from the truth. You hardly ever talk to eachother, the last time you tasted his lips? Can't even recall, he just waves goodbye as he goes too work, and you, are left, wondering how it all came too this.

If only you can feel his arms around you, once more, if only he can push you up against a wall, and claim you like he used too. Feeling him shift on the bed, as the alarm goes off, you get up, quickly, trying to remove the tears staining your face, you stride to the bathroom.

His deep voice laced with an Southern Accent, let's you turn around. "You alright"

You wanted too scream and say NO! But you opt out for a simple "yes"

Closing the door in his face hearing his frustrated sigh, is enough too open the flood gate burning behind your eyes.

Listening too her cry, she tries too hide it, but he heard her, laying next too him, of course he kept his eyes closed, acting like he was asleep, but all he wanted too do, is pull her closer too his chest, place loving kisses on her lips, but he knows the dynamics of their marriage has been off for awhile. Knowing it's his fault mostly, the case his been working on has kept him occupied, not really having the energy to come home, and make her feel loved like his supposed too, in full honesty he misses her, but he always had this bad habit of withdrawing if a case has gotten to much for him, not wanting to share the brutal stuff his seen, or the fact he almost got shot, if she should find that out, she'll never be able to find rest, she worries so much about him already.

Walking out of the bathroom, not a trace of the tears that just stained your face, you see him sitting there, "Beau, are you okay?"

His green eyes pierces through yours, "No, no I'm not okay, we aren't okay"

Shocked by his response, you just stood there, searching for the right words too find

He gets up, walking towards you, his voice heavy "Baby, I... I'm so sorry, I know I haven't been the best husband, hell I haven't even been a good man"

The only words you get out is "why"

His jaw clenched, running his hand over his distressed face "because, something happened at work, and..."

Your eyes widen, your voice brittle, "what? What happened?" Thinking the worst, did something dangerous happen is he cheating on you, what can it be!

He plunges down on the end of the bed, "I almost got my head blown off" seeing the fear on her beautiful face, as she's about to open her mouth to say something, he silences her "the important thing is the bullet missed me by a couple of inches, and the only thing I could think off, wasn't that I could die, it was that I will never be able too hold you again" clearing his throat, to swallow the emotion away "I know it doesn't make sense, pushing you away, when all really want to do is pull you close and never let you go, but this... This fear I feel of losing you, its clouding my judgement, its making it hard to focus on the job, I'm the sheriff, I'm the one who should be willing to first in the line of fire, but the idea of not..." He can't even form the words anymore.

You just fall down to your knees in front of him .

Analysing his face, every freckle, every line, the way his beard hugs his perfect jaw line, the dampness in his forest green eyes, his lips as he starts to speak, his voice laced with emotion "the idea of not being around, to see the two of us grow old together, it scares me to death baby" looking down to the ground, to hide the fear in his eyes

Placing your small hand underneath his chin, lifting it to where you can look him straight in the eyes, You begun to speak,your voice shaky, "Beau, darling, why didn't you tell me about this, I'm your wife, I'm here to support you through anything even if it scares me."

He thumbs away your tears, his voice low "Baby, I don't want you too think I'm weak, it's just..."

You gasp, "What! I'll never think that, you know I think the world of you, your the bravest person I know, and I love you"

Your lower lip trembling, "I just wish you told me sooner, I... I thought you," your voice only a mere whisper, "you didn't love me anymore, that you've found someone else"

Flinching at the words you just said he looks at you, "Baby, I would never, not love love you, you are my everything, honey if anything I love you more than life itself"

Sobbing frantically now, you glance at your husband , knowing he still loves you a smile tugs at your lips.

He plunges down to his knees, cupping your face he places a kiss, on your lips, without any warning his kisses becomes hungrier, his fingers playing with your hair as his tongue dances with yours in a fiery passion.

His hands roaming over your body, removing every piece of fabric, so that he can ravish you, making you feel his love as he places kisses on every little inch of your bare skin.

He lifts you up, letting you down, on the bed, you spend the rest of the morning entangled in eachother's arms, the invisible wall, crumbling and coming to a fall, as your husband, shows you exactly what you mean too him, as the two of you lay there, out of breathe, and with hearts full of love, realizing, what happened this morning, doesn't automatically fix all the problems, the two of you face, but at least now you'll face it together, as husband and wife, Mr and Mrs Arlen.

[melancholyshadow]

Reprimand

pairing: john price x female!reader 

word count: around 1.4k 

content warnings: kinda mean!price in the beginning, spanking, overstimulation possibly, no actual sex but definitely smut. MDNI

an: more cod stuff! woohoo! this is my first time writing something like this so bear with me. its not a full blown fic, just s little something. i got inspired by a tiktok i saw, but i can’t find it now.  im still working on some request from about a month ago, but if you see this and want to send some more, feel free! 

There were three tell-all signs that the Captain had which let you know when you had fucked up, and he was displaying them all for you right now. 

One, he sat back slowly in his large office chair, causing a slight squeaking noise. The chair was physically taller and broader than him, but in that moment he made it look puny, meant for a child.

Two, an elbow propped up on the arms of the chair, stroking the length of his mustache. While he appeared to be in deep thought about all the forms of punishment he could put you through.

Three, using his other hand, he rhythmically tapped the solid, oak desk with his fingertips, clearly trying to calculate exactly what he needed to say next. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, everyone listened. 

All that cockiness, stemming from a successful mission, that resided in your body, exorcized itself almost immediately. You had been on this side of Price a time or two before. What exactly had you done? You couldn’t say, on this last mission, you were quite reckless. A usual occurrence, even putting Soap to shame. It could have been leaving your post early, after it was made very clear not to. Or it could have been the jokes you made over the communication systems. You were never one to take things very seriously. Well, that was the case for everything, except for this. 

“Captain, I–” You tried to speak, defend your actions, but he stopped you, holding his palm out towards you. “I think you’ve done enough talking.” He barked, his accent sounding rougher than normal. You knew how this was going to end, the same way it always did. You just wished he would get on with it, because the anticipation was killing you, and you could feel the mix of dread and excitement building in the pit of your stomach. 

Price and you had a thing, an indescribable thing, but it was definitely a thing. Finally, after a long, thick silence, he beckoned you forward with his index finger. Your legs felt like they could crumble at any moment as you walked towards him, rounding the side of the desk, and coming to stand next to him. Twisting in the chair, he faced you, one hand still messing with his mustache. 

“Be a good girl and bend over the desk.”  It was like your body was entranced, buckling forward at the hips, chest coming to rest against the hard surface of his desk. The oak was cold against your exposed arms, which were bent at the elbow and palms flat. Exactly how he liked you. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear his movements as he stood up from his seat, the wheels of his chair scratching against the wooden floor as it rolled backwards a few feet. 

The heavy footfall of his boots were deafening in the otherwise silent office as he paced behind you somewhere. “How many times are we going to have to do this, Sergeant?” He asks rhetorically, he knows you’ll never learn. “Never again, sir.” But your promise falls of deaf ears. “Ah, we know that’s not true. He chuckles. He wasn’t wrong, but you would never admit that to him. “We both know you like this a little too much.” Your body spoke louder than any words possibly could, and he was a great listener. 

Still unable to see the Captain, you heard his pacing cease, coming to stand directly behind you. You could practically feel the heat radiating off his body. He was close, but not close enough to actually be touching you. One of his boots kicked the insides of your feet, instructing you to widen your stance, which you did. His index fingers loop around the waistband of your thermals, shoving them down your legs with no warning. Your panties going with them. 

You tense under the sudden decrease in temperature, cool air traveling between your legs and to the apex of your thighs. Your fists ball up beside you, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to suppress any of the noises threatening to pass your lips. “You were certainly more chatty earlier, sweetheart. What happened?” He mocked.

“Sir, I–” Was all you could muster out, before one hand came down to graze the newly exposed skin, causing you to let out a small gasp. Another laugh passes his lips from behind you, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin. You were putty in his hands, and he had barely even touched you yet. 

Leaning over you, he placed his mouth right beside your ear. “Good girls get rewarded…” He whispers, his long, slender fingers crawling closer to your cunt, the pad of his index finger makes contact with your cunt. He presses forward, between your soaked folds, until he’s satisfied by the amount of slick he’s collected on the tip of his finger. And just as you think he’s about to push one of his fingers inside you, he speaks again, “...bad girls get punished.” 

That’s when he pulls away from you, voiding you of any contact. A strangled groan falls past your lips, “I-I’m sorry for misb-behaving, s-sir.” You apologize profusely. “I-It won't happen again.” You echo your promise from earlier, but Price still doesn’t buy it. He knows you’re just saying that to get your way, but he wasn’t budging that easily. “You know the drill, sweetheart…” He said, completely ignoring your pleas. 

“Count.” That’s when you felt the first smack come down on your ass, the left cheek. The sound echoes off the walls, your body jolting further against the desk. The handles of the drawers digging into the fronts of your thighs. “One!” You squeak out, eyes screwed shut, the pain simmered on your back side. It was a pleasurable feeling, it was like adding oxygen to the fire inside you. 

That was until his large hand came down again, across the same cheek. There was a trend that each swat got harder and harder as time went on. “Two!” You called out, hands reaching out to grip the front of the desk for support. “You sure do know how to take direction now.” He quipped. “Price, I promise I-“ Another smack, harder this time. “Three!” The Captain was very particular about the use of honorifics in this type of situation. He definitely enjoyed the power dynamic between the two of you, and used it to his advantage. 

An annoyed wail instinctually leaves your mouth. “Where are your manners, sweetheart?” He scolded. “Sir, sorry, I just wanted to sa-“ Another swat. Between the momentum and his calloused hand, the stinging sensation grew quickly. After the fourth slap, his fingertips dig into the reddened skin, which was beginning to swell from the mishandling. He kneads the flesh, causing you to suck in a quick breath. “C’mon, Sergeant, you’re doing so well.” He praised you, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “F-Four…” You whimpered. 

This continued well into the double digits. Each one getting more difficult to count out loud, but with each smack he seemed to get more lenient with you. From experience he knew, anything after fifteen was hit or miss. You had started seeing stars at around eleven. “Eightee-en.” You weren't sure when the tears had started, but they stained your cheeks. You could taste the saltiness on your lips. 

Luckily Price knew your body well enough to know when you were at your tipping point, and he could tell you were nearly there. “You’re being such a good girl, you can make it to twenty, yeah?” You contemplated for a moment, the burning sensation on your ass was intense, you knew there would surely be bruises and sitting would already be a challenge. “Y-Yes, s-sir.” You mewled. “Atta girl.” He cooed. 

Another slap. “Nineteen.” You said through gritted teeth, you were sure your knuckles were white because of how hard you were gripping the desk to steady yourself.. Your legs had started to go numb, they were overcome with that familiar buzzing sensation. Your brain was foggy, you weren’t even sure how you were keeping track of the number you were at, you were just spouting out numbers and hoping for the best. “So good.” The Captain reiterated, “Last one.” 

Smack. 

“Twenty!” You sobbed out. “Alright, you’re all done.” He murmured, “Stand up.” He ordered softly. It took a few moments for your brain to register his words, but once they did, you used your hands to push off the desk. As all your weight distributed back onto your legs, that's when they crumbled, luckily Price was there to catch you. 

“It’s alright, I gotcha, love.”

[shawnxstyles]

addicted in the afterglow

DATE: OCTOBER 11, 2022

summary: you and harry despise one another, but have close mutual friends. at your friends’ party, the two of you get into an argument. when harry’s contradictions shock you, you consider if you’ve become addicted in the afterglow.

request: yes!

song: Afterglow- driver era!! (fucking love this song)

words: 4.6k

warnings: SMUT BITCHES (f- receiving [choking, rubbing, fingering, a little nipple play, mild edging] m- receiving [slight hair pulling, scratching] protected sex, dirty talk!!), language, loads of dialogue as always

note: part 2 is here!

frat/college!harry x college!reader

—

There were a lot of things in the world that you liked. Loved, even. Some of those things being your family (most of them), your dog back at home, your school, and your friends. You were grateful for so many things and tried your best to appreciate them. Your friends would say you’re one of the most kind-hearted and modest people they’ve ever met. Your friends meaning Sabrina (Rina), Raquel, and Rina’s twin brother Sean. You were probably most appreciative of them and for encountering them in your life. However, when they decided to bring other people into your little circle, you second-guessed their decision.

At first, you felt slightly offended like maybe you weren’t a good enough friend to each of them. But that changed the second Sean brought one of his friends to one of your “Hang Out and Hangover”s. Hang Out and Hangovers are kind of in its name; you all hang out after a long week of lectures and drink at someone’s place. The next day usually results in headaches and strong coffee, so that’s why it has to be somewhat planned out. You’re not really the impulsive type, as your friends would say.

But when it comes to Harry, the newest addition to your used-to-be perfect circle, you become everything your friends say you aren’t.

Harry is… appealing. He has this chestnut hair that spring curls naturally but he covers them with a hat. An annoyingly sharp jawline that he’d probably cut you with if he got the chance. He’s every girls’ dream height at a solid 6’0. He has the persona of a stereotypical frat boy, yet he still gets any girl he wants (but you would never, ever admit that to him).

You could stand him from a distance. Well, you could have. Past tense.

The day you actually talked to him shocked you, even though it shouldn’t have. Why wouldn’t the semi-popular frat boy be a dick? Why wouldn’t he be so arrogant? Why wouldn’t he flat-tire the back of your shoe? Or make sure the elevator was closed before you got on it? Or switch the song on the aux just because it was your favorite song? Anyone else could do the same things, but for some reason when he did it, it felt personal and on-purpose.

He joked around constantly with Rina and Raquel, and yes, they would agree-to-disagree occasionally, but he never had full-blown arguments with them like he did with you.

On one Friday night when you all decided to get together, you didn’t know Harry would be coming. Your friends knew you didn’t “fancy” him or whatever they said, but tried their best to make you two civil. But he didn’t know you would be there, either.

Which makes no sense because it was at your house.

“Oh great, he’s here. When were you guys going to break the news? Attention, attention, the biggest dickhead on the planet just walked through my living room,” You dramatically pretended to act shocked and put your hand on your heart. He closed the door behind him and rolled his eyes.

“It’s always a pleasure to be with you, truly. And for the record, I didn’t know you would be here, either.”

“It’s my apartment!!”

“Ohhh, I thought it was Raquel’s place. Now the horrible interior design makes more sense,” He says so sarcastically and mockingly, you wished you could wax his tongue off. You step closer to him, slowly closing in on him.

“Please! I bet my place looks ten times better than yours! Oh wait, you don’t even have your own place,” You sass back, crossing your arms. You’re pretty sure he just moved in with Sean and Rina.

“Having roommates means cheaper expenses. And I get to hang out with my friends. Work smarter, not harder, babe,” Harry taunts and it drives you cynical. Your friends just stand there awkwardly while you shout at him and he acts nonchalant. You’re nearly chest to chest with pointed fingers when the ding of the doorbell shuts you both up.

“Here,” Raquel said, annoyed while chucking the bag of food in between us. “I got some food. Maybe you two will finally shut up.”

You hadn’t even noticed Raquel left to get take-out, but how would you with Harry practically spitting his minty gum in your face?

The rest of the night was quiet to everyone else, but between you and Harry, it was loud. You would give him a snarky look every time he happened to look at you and he would stick his tongue out mockingly. It was like children fighting on a playground with you two; immature and useless. Similar scenarios went on for months. But after a while, your friends just decided to leave themselves out of it.

The only reason why Harry is even in your mind right now is because Rina is trying her very best to convince you that ”he’s not that bad”. You’ve heard the same story for months.

“Y/N, he’s really not that bad,” You almost laughed because she’s just so predictable when it comes to this situation. “I know he can be a little… into himself—”

“A little? That is the most conceited man I’ve ever met! Or should I say boy?” You shake your head as you look in the mirror. You comb through your hair softly, even though you’re frustrated about Harry. You can’t take out your fury for Harry on your luscious hair.

“You can’t expect him not to go. It’s Sean and I’s birthday for crying out loud. We’re not just going to have two different parties because you two are big babies who can’t stand a night together,” Rina falls onto her back, laying on her bed. “and he kind of lives there now.”

“Just kick him out for the night. Or forever!” You turn to Rina and act like you just invented something unheard of.

“You know what?” She lifts herself from the bed and heads toward the mirror. “we don’t need to focus on him tonight. You know that one guy from Literature class? He’s gonna be there.”

Your eyebrow perks up as you glance at Rina in the mirror. She nods up and down in confirmation until you’re both squealing like little girls. You haven’t been on a date in what? A year? Your recent hook-ups have been kind of lousy, too. And Rina is right, you need to not focus on Harry tonight, and just be free-spirited. And who knows, maybe something will happen with that guy from your lecture.

—

When you first got to college, you didn’t like the idea of partying. You had been to a few in high school and it just wasn’t your thing. But you realized that the problem was that you weren’t with the right people. Now every time a party opportunity approaches, it’s hard to say no.

Raquel said she was going to be late to the party, so when you and Rina had finished getting ready, you set up the party as best you could. There was a table with snacks on them and another with drinks. However, the good drinks were under the counter. You knew those would be pulled out later in the night.

Their house was relatively small for three people, but being in college with a house isn’t easy. But it made decorating fast. There was a large banner across a window and some balloons tied to the stairs. Although it’s their birthday, it wasn’t really a birthday type of party. But people should at least know what’s being celebrated. Speaking of people, you had no idea who was going to show up besides that guy from your Literature class. Since it’s Sabrina and Sean’s friends, it’s probably going to be a pretty packed house tonight.

The party was planned to start at around eight and was already packed by nine. You didn’t even really know that you knew this many people until they said what’s up or heyyy as you passed them. It wasn’t until around ten, though, when you saw the real life of the party waltzing into the room.

Of course he’s late to a party at his own house. He’s just too cool for that.

Harry would smirk and half wave at girls as he walked by them. He’d fist bump his “homies” and laugh ridiculous loud for no reason. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and attempt to avoid gazing at him at all costs. Even if you found him the most annoying man boy in the world, you couldn’t deny the fact that everything he did was unbelievably hot (when his mouth was closed).

He had this confidence that was cocky, but his charm would hide it. The way he would lick his lips in the middle of a conversation distracts you far more than it should. His hand around a red solo cup along with a solid silver ring on his middle finger looks so natural— why did you wish his hands were somewhere else, though?

On you, maybe?

Your wild thoughts are disrupted just by the man who’d caused them. Harry comes up behind you as you’re refilling a bowl with chips.

“You look like you’re having a great time, really,” Harry shouts with his iconic sarcasm that you just love oh, so much.

“The best!” Your own sarcasm pops out. You weren’t having the worst time, you’re just a bit bored.

“Why don’t you go and dance with me? I know you got some moves,” He gets closer to you and you can feel his breath on your ear. Your breathing hitches in your throat for a moment before responding.

“I’ll pass—” You barely got to finish your sentence when you felt a light tap on your opposite shoulder. Nate, the guy from that lecture class, was standing next to you. Your eyes grew wide in a panic.

“Hey, I just wanted to know if maybe you wanted to dance..?” He looks at you, before noticing Harry, and then has the same, wide eyes as you. “Um nevermind, sorry.”

“W-what…” Your shoulders drop in disappointment and confusion as he walks away. You didn’t want to chase him because maybe he found the actual person he was looking for. Plus, chasing isn’t attractive, right? You turn to your right, forgetting Harry’s presence. You look at him for a single second and see… something in his eyes. He plays it nonchalant like he didn’t do a single thing.

“What did you do? What did you say to him?!” You shouted over the loud voices and booming music.

“What? I did nothing. He looked at me and got scared,” He shrugs off defensively with raised eyebrows. Harry takes another sip of his drink, and your growing frustration got to you, so you slapped it out of his hand. There was maybe a drop in the cup, not much left. His eyebrows raised again, but he didn’t even flinch. He knows that he’s ticking you off. You stomp away up the stairs because you needed to cool off. You are acting immature right now, but goodness, he brings out the worst in you.

The party didn’t halt nor notice your little incident with Harry and you were grateful. Harry makes his way upstairs soon later, honestly concerned for you. He knows he upset you, but he doesn’t know that you also kind of upset him. He catches you right as you’re walking into the bathroom.

“Y/N—”

“What, Harry? What do you want?” You pull your arm away from him and eye him irritatingly. You were looking at him directly and could see him thinking. The cogs in his head were spinning and you were impatient.

“Were you really going to dance with that bloke?” Is the first thing that came out of his mouth.

God, he’s such an idiot.

“Oh my God, of course you came all the way up here just to tick me off more.” You pushed him by his chest, but he grabbed your wrists, stilling you. Your breath hitches again slightly, like it did earlier. You mentally refuse to let him affect you, so you brush it off. You look up at him as you both stand in the doorway of the bathroom. He quickly checks behind him before shoving you two into the tiny room.

“God, you make me so mad,” He says through clenched teeth. He pushes you against the counter and you forget how to breathe.

Lungs? What are those? Air? Oxygen? What…?

However, you get your senses back. A little bit, and shake your head.

“I make you mad? Are you joking? You’re the one that scares off the first guy that seemed genuine!”

“Pfft, that bloke just wants to get in your pants—”

“Oh what, and you don’t? God, you just think you’re so much better—” One of Harry’s hands releases your wrist and latches onto your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, but you halt your rant and then you actually forget how to breathe. Harry holds both of your wrists with one hand while the other puts little to no pressure on your throat. Harry drifts even closer to you now.

“You never know when to stop talking, huh?” He taunts you while slightly nudging your head up. You instinctively roll your eyes because that’s just what he makes you do. Everything he says is just worth an eye roll. But he doesn’t like that. Every time he sees you roll your eyes, he just wants to… fuck. He doesn’t know. But he did know it got under his skin every time and he just wanted to make you shut up. He adds more pressure to your neck as a note that he doesn’t like that.

“You always roll your eyes at me. Am I really that annoying?” He teased, while rubbing your chin with his other hand. He runs over your bottom lip slowly enough so that he can see all of your bottom teeth. When he releases it, it bounces back and you bite it nervously.

“Yes,” You choke out, still being choked by him. You can feel your wit and smart-ass remarks getting to him by the amount of pressure under his fingertips. His head tilts closer toward your ear and you’re sure he can hear your racing heart.

“You just never learn do you?”

“What’s there to learn? You’re the world’s greatest dick—” He pushes your legs apart and lets go of your neck, with that, you naturally sit up straighter. Your heart beats intensely as you wait for him to do something since he likes to interrupt you so much.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to teach you then,” He kisses down your neck softly, teasingly so. The tender kisses contradicts the kinky act of choking, which still wasn’t enough for you. You wish you could just push him off of you and be fine, but you were pulled to him. Your body yearned him the second that he touched you. You wanted more, but you hated begging. But you had a feeling he loved it. Right above your collarbone, he bites and sucks, making you gasp as you bite your lip. His tongue glides across your skin so effortlessly and his teeth sink on one of your pressure points and you nearly moan out. You can feel the beat of the music from downstairs throughout the whole bathroom. Suddenly, he releases himself completely from you and rests his hands beside you on the counter. You thought he was going to leave you high and dry, so you shouted.

“You’re such a fucking tease! God, I was right, you are a dick,” A fire was burning inside of you both that was fueled by frustration and lust. You were ready to get up and leave, but you didn’t want to. He doesn’t even think twice before smashing his lips onto yours and locking the door to the bathroom while doing so.

The kiss was not pretty; your teeth were clashing and your lips were squished. Your lip gloss was all over him now and his tongue gladly roamed your mouth. He hummed against you, loving your taste. You smelt of orange juice and vodka, while Harry smelled like minty beer. A shock struck between your lips, which ignited something in you. Your hands rested on the baby hairs on the back of his neck, which you used to pull him closer to you. He lifted you onto the counter, temporarily breaking you two apart.

You both discard your shirts, throwing them behind him. His chiseled torso shocked you every time you saw it. You always tried to act like it didn’t affect you, but he was a walking turn-on. His tan skin was littered in creative tattoos, and you instantly rubbed on his angel wings. He steps closer to you, moving his hips toward you.

“I like these, but they don’t fit you. You’re more of a devil type,” You sass, looking at him with a sarcastic smile and a lip bite. Harry reaches behind you while giving you a quick are you sure? look before proceeding to unclip your bra first try.

“Don’t get so cocky, we all know who’s in control here,” He smiles sadistically at you, and your little smile fades. You clench your thighs together, but he pulls them apart again. His hands are warm and rough on your legs. He runs them up and down, until he’s just rubbing the insides.

“Harry, we don’t have all night! If you’re going to fuck me, just do it!” You whisper-yelled. You didn’t want to beg, but God, were you getting desperate. This is the nearest you’ll get to begging. Especially for him.

“Aw, is the princess getting impatient?” He mocks, thumbs edging towards your aching cunt. You despised these thick jean shorts you were wearing right now because every time you moved at all, you would feel a light friction on your clit. It wasn’t nearly enough to get you off, so you needed Harry to just rip them from you already. Maybe it was your turn to tick him off…

“I bet Nate would give it to me. He’s probably good, too. Oh, can you imagine how big he probably is?” That caused Harry to make an animalistic sound that nearly shredded the rest of your clothes right there. Before you knew it, your shorts were gone and your underwear was being stuffed into your mouth.

“Not much of a talker now, yeah?” Harry smirks. You could taste your own arousal, which turned you on even more. He grabs your wrists in one hand, stopping you from touching anything.

“You’re so infuriating. Talking about other men while I have you spread open for me. I can see you dripping all over the counter,” He rubs you achingly slow, right on your throbbing clit. He increases his rhythm, giving you more pleasure. But you needed more. “tell me it’s for me.”

You roll your eyes. Of course, he has a praise kink. That makes his mountain size ego make sense. He stops rubbing you and you nearly whine as he removes the underwear from your mouth, dropping it beside you. You’re so desperate and so frustratingly needy, you nearly want to beg.

“And if I don't?” You breathe out, staring at him right in the eyes. His eyes are strong and you almost back down. He puts his free hand on your breast, pinching and twisting the bud. You arch slightly into his touch.

“Then it’s going to be a long night, isn’t it, princess?” You swallow, biting the inside of your cheek. His hands still hold your wrists as he drifts back down to your clit. Harry rubs you quickly, waiting for your response.

“Tell me Y/N. Who made you this wet?” Harry can hear your juices spreading around as he rubs you. When you don’t immediately answer, he flicks you and you jump. You bite your lip, adding a few seconds before you give in. The need to come continues to increase as you withhold your pleas “speak, or I’ll stop.”

“You!” You couldn’t help it— you gave into him. The rough pads of his fingers and his irritatingly attractive words were making you crazy. If he stopped, your body would never forgive you. Before your eyes tightly close, you see Harry arrogantly smirk.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name. Go on,” Harry inserts rapid fingers in you, curling them oh, so good. Your arousal was slushing in and out quickly, along with his fingers. He edged you enough and you were about to come fast.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, Harry!” You whine out his name as you reach your peak. Seconds before you release, his fingers are removed from inside of you. Your climax dangles in your stomach, forgotten.

Your irritation from earlier becomes even more vehement now. You were about to slam Harry’s head into the door, before his loud mouth speaks.

“You can come around my cock,” He basically growls as he vastly unbuckles his belt and unzips his strangled jeans. He slides down his boxers and you can’t deny that he’s pretty big. You feel more arousal leak out of you just looking at it. You nearly roll your eyes again when you see him pull out a condom from his jeans.

Of course, he brought condoms to a party. Why are you letting him fuck you again?

Because he’s just so… ugh. You don’t know the word.

Feeling dazed, you feel Harry rubs himself on you for a few seconds before slamming into you without warning. You try your best not to scream out, for the sake of the party, but also for Harry’s ego. You gasp loudly, as he goes in and out roughly.

He cannot know how much you actually enjoy this.

Your hands wrap around his neck naturally, scratching crescent moons on the sides. His moves are fast, yet deep, making you clench around him hard. When Harry finally moans in your ear, you don’t stop the strong reciprocating one that leaves yours.

That must mean he likes it too.

Harry growls, attaching his lips to your neck, probably to quiet his sounds. When you begin to reach your climax again, your legs get tense. You bite your lip to near bleeding so you don’t alert the whole party.

“God, Harry,” You groan out, clutching his hair with your right hand. You can tell you’re both close because everything is messier; you’re about to fall off of the counter, Harry’s strokes are sloppier, and your grip is everywhere.

You’ve both been dying for release.

“Come, Y/N,” He wasn’t asking; it was a command. Somehow, his assertiveness brought you over the edge and you finally came. Hard. The sensation was such a relief, you loudly moaned without caring who could hear. Harry groans by your ear as he releases into the condom, moving slowly in and out. You rub your clit to calm your body and breathing. You hadn’t realized how deprived you were until the weight of your sexual rut was gone.

Once you come to realize what actually happened, you blink and instantly grab your underwear. Harry had already been pulling up his jeans by then.

“You,” You grit out. Your breathing wasn’t completely calm and was definitely wavering as you zipped up your jean shorts. “are not allowed to tell anyone about this, okay?”

“Me? Why would I ever do such a thing?” He says innocently, followed by a devilish smirk. His shirt falls over his head and covers his sculpted abs.

You hate to think about it, but those abs will be missed.

“I’m serious. If anyone, especially one of our friends finds out, I will personally kill you. I will torture you until you can’t take it anymore,” You successfully clip your bra and arrange your shirt correctly. You look in the semi-foggy mirror as you attempt to tame your hair.

“Sounds kinky. But don’t worry, princess, no one’s gonna find out how I made you beg for me,” Harry stands behind you, looking at you through the mirror. Your eyes widen at his words and you turn around.

“Harry!”

“Yeah, it sounded just like that—”

“I fucking swear to—” A knock interrupted both of you. Sudden panic rushed through your body as your mouth became dry. Harry eyed you with a finger over his lips. You stay silent, listening to him, as the stranger soon walks away. You release a breath you didn’t know you were restricting.

“See? That is why we can’t do this. That was too close. I’m leaving and we’re never speaking of this again,” You slowly open the door and peek near the area. When you fully exit, you try to act as relaxed as possible.

You feel flushed and flustered, but that can easily be mistaken for alcohol or dancing. You walk down the stairs and into the kitchen because you need another drink. Maybe seven because you’re feeling a bit too sober after what just happened.

Rina suddenly comes behind you, startlingly you.

“Where have you been, girl?! I haven’t seen you all night!” She shouts over the booming speakers and loud people. Your gut wrenches suddenly in guilt, feeling the weight of being a liar.

“I was dancing with Nate,” The lie flew through your mouth and you bit your cheek. Your clench your solo cup in your hand. He probably left a while ago because of what happened earlier. You wouldn’t blame him.

You’ve never been a good liar. Clearly. But maybe it was easier to lie to a drunk person…

“Ooo, I’m so drunk right now! Did you know that Raquel heard two people fucking in the bathroom? She thinks it was Harry, and I wouldn’t be surprised. Oh, this is my song!” The song changes to Rina’s favorite dance track, which causes her to slip away back into the crowd of dancing drunks. As she drifts away, that gut wrenching feeling becomes more intense when you take in what she just said.

Raquel heard you in the bathroom. Oh fuck. She doesn’t know it was you and Harry though. Hopefully, she is extremely drunk too and doesn’t remember a lick of tonight.

You hate to admit it to yourself, but that sex with Harry was really good. It wasn’t like the typical sex you have. It wasn’t intimate and loving, or soft and sweet. It was rough and fast, and you really liked it. You’re kind of left in a state of shock because you know it won’t ever happen again.

He had control over you. And even though it was Harry out of all people, there was some type of passion beneath it all that just aroused you so much. Stuff like that is what gets people addicted. And you couldn’t be… addicted to Harry.

You knew everything was now messed up, yet a part of you was satisfied and relieved.

It was one time. You can’t be addicted.

—

YAY! thanks for reading 🤭

[humbledragon669]

S1E4 – Saturday Morning Funtime Write Up P1 - Saturday (The last day of the World) up to The Fields of Megiddo

Please forgive the slight skipping ahead to get the banner for the time period, I’m a sucker for consistency and I like to start this write ups with a pretty picture so all the text doesn’t look so daunting. There’s a lot of narrative to get through in this episode, which is borne out in quick scene changes, so apologies if this write up comes across as a bit scattered. Housekeeping aside, I have something intriguing to point out in the opening scene. Captain Vincent (who in the script is described as William Shatner but seems to me more like a Liam Neesom type) records in the ship’s log that the ship is on course to Havana. Looking at the location of Atlantis on Crowley’s globe from later in the episode, I think they may have been blown somewhat off course:

But then, what would you expect from a cruise ship whose name is the medical term for an infectious disease (measles)? I do rather like the insinuation that cruise guests are so stupid as to believe the ship’s crew capable of raising an entire continent from the deep, complete with its citizens, purely for their entertainment though. Light-hearted as this scene is, it serves as a neat little bridge from the previous episode, where the last thing we saw was the consequences of Adam coming into his power, albeit in unexpected ways. It sounds like the voices are getting stronger and clearer for him now too, seeing as we’re able to make out words and full sentences this time around. And if we were at all unclear as to what exactly Adam’s powers consist of, he spells it out for us, his earnest words underpinned by come creepy child choir soundtrack to really hammer home their meaning:

What I say I true.

Just in case there was any doubt about the intelligence levels of the cruise guests, we have another little dig here in the form of a Facebook post by one of them.

The long-lost continent of Atlantis has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, which means the ship can’t go anywhere, but don’t worry – the Captain has sent a bottle of Champagne to make up for it. Cretin.

For those amongst you who aren’t native to the UK (or don’t watch the news, and honestly who would blame you), the newsreader in this scene is an actual newsreader (rather than an actress playing one) called Kirsty Wark. I think little things like this are really important to contributing to the charm and appeal of the series – it blurs the lines between the story and reality, but also really assists with the show’s relatability.

So, elephant in room question. Questions actually I think.

Why is Gabriel on Earth?

Why is Gabriel jogging on Earth?

Why is Gabriel jogging on Earth where Aziraphale is?

Why is Gabriel jogging on Earth where Aziraphale is, which also happens to be the place where Aziraphale and Crowley had their break-up the night before?

These are all questions I had from the very first watch of the show, and it’s never addressed. I just can’t get my head around any of it, perhaps because I get hung up on wondering if Aziraphale came back to the park or whether he’s still there from the night before. Maybe waiting to see if Crowley will come back. After that I’m not capable of thinking of much else in a logical way because that is just too angsty. What we do know is that Aziraphale is still nervous – he’s wringing his hands. Not nervous enough to not look intrigued by the human interpretation of an angel’s appearance though. Almost so intrigued he misses Gabriel. I can’t quite work out whether his expression says he’s surprised to see the archangel or whether he’s just spurred into action. If it’s the former, then I think we really are in the “Aziraphale has been hanging around the park all night pining” territory. If it’s the latter (which, I’m inclined to think it is, the directions in the script state that he’s looking for someone at this point), I’d really like to know how he knew Gabriel was going to be there in the first place. Either way, I really love the way that Aziraphale starts this conversation in the exact same way that his phone conversations with Crowley usually start (“It’s me.”) – it’s such a casual way to start a conversation, mostly reserved for situations where there is a level of familiarity between the participants that betrays how comfortable they are with one another. It’s also a very human interaction, one which Gabriel does not appear able to understand the nuances of – after all, it is a pretty obvious thing to say isn’t it?

I have to call attention to the level of detail that has gone into the production of this series here, and this time the credit goes to the costume department. They could have had Gabriel running in a very plain set of running clothes, but no – they had to go and add a little hint to his true nature, embroidered right there on his sweater:

So subtle, but it just goes to show how much thought went into every single aspect of this show. It might not be an intricately detailed suit, or a deliberately distressed demon outfit, but this tiny detail is still capable of reminding us of the true nature of the characters we’re watching.

I’m fairly sure that Gabriel’s assertion that the purpose of war is so that they can win it is probably the main reason why most wars are fought. Which is, quite honestly, batshit crazy. Gabriel doesn’t think so though – he can’t understand what Aziraphale’s problem is with this ridiculous catch-22 situation, oblivious to our angel’s very obvious distress:

I find the use of the word “soft” here interesting. I think the meaning of the word in Aziraphale’s mind is very complicated – he’s not really talking about his lack of physical prowess (not my opinion, just reiterating what Gabriel so hurtfully said previously) but his attachment to Earth as a whole, which would no doubt be perceived by Heaven as having gone “soft”. The irony is that his “softness”, perceived at this point by him and others as weak, is exactly what draws us to him as a character, forming an essential part of his make-up as a hero character.

Moving on, it looks like Lesley (the International Express delivery man) is quite the foreshadower of his own fate.

Ours is not to reason why. Ours is to deliver packages.

I’m sure most people will know that the way the second part of this line should end is nothing to do with delivering packages, but should instead be “to do and die”. It’s a very well-known quote, even if it is slightly altered from the original, from Tennyson’s Charge of the Light Brigade, underlining the fact that soldiers should not question the purpose of their service, only to perform their duties and give their life when necessary. Which is exactly what Lesley is about to do with his deliveries, even if he is ignorant of the fact that he’s been drafted as the harbinger of Armageddon.

Quick note: I love that view from Heaven! It’s another one of those little things that you only see for a moment, and if you’re not concentrating, you might think it’s just any old cityscape but let’s take a quick inventory, shall we?

From left to right:

The Eiffel Tower.

Big Ben.

Mountains.

Empire State Building.

The London Eye.

The Shard.

Pyramids.

There are maybe some others (in a later shot you can also see what looks like St Paul’s cathedral), but you get the idea – there’s no way that all of those things could be in one view - some of them are in different continents to each other. It’s a pretty cool view though, I wonder if you can Airbnb up there?

We now have the first firm indication that things are getting tricky for our hero pair. “Earth observation files” you say? That sounds decidedly problematic. I do love how Gabriel genuinely seems to think there would be an innocent explanation for an angel and demon to have met multiple times, though in his defence none of the photos he is presented with show the pair with anything other than neutral expressions. What this exchange does inform us of is that the suspicions surrounding Aziraphale have only been incited owing to his recent comments – he really has been fooling them completely for the last 6000 years, and even when they do catch on Michael’s first thought is that he’s a double agent. Not a bad record if you ask me. I think it’s pretty spiteful of Michael to turn Crowley in to Hell at this point – they must know that he’s not working for Heaven, and would be aware that Hell are probably going to take an even harsher stance towards any descent in the ranks they suspect.

Here we go, another (side) note of appreciation (it’s easy to rack these up when the emotional angst isn’t so high). I don’t know whether the chameleon on Ligur’s head is an animatronic prop or CGI, but the fact that it moves, seemingly independently, is yet another beautiful detail that is easy to miss.

Back with Crowley, we find out that he’s still intending on running. It’s here that we find out that he had a hand in creating some of the component parts of the universe, and we have the first mention of Alpha Centauri as being a favoured destination. It feels like an obvious statement to make that the choice of this particular constellation was owing to it being made of two words starting with “A” and “C” but Neil has been asked this question before and stated that its use was purely circumstantial. I’m not sure I fully believe that but maybe that’s just me. My heart goes out to Crowley in this scene – he looks truly defeated. So defeated that he actually tries to reason with God in a tone that could be described as pleading. And in contrast to Gabriel’s description of the reason for Crowley’s fall (that he was one of the rebelling forces against Heaven), we see here that Crowley’s take on the situation is quite different.

Four episodes in and we’re still being introduced to new characters – hello, Pollution. We are given some backstory about why this Horseman isn’t the traditionally-known Pestilence, and I think I read somewhere that this was a conscious substitution made by Neil and Terry to make it feel more relevant/current but I can’t find that source now. Interestingly, the name for the recipient of the crown is given on the delivery form as “Mr. White”, but Lesley refers to them as “Chalky”, a continuation of the theme that there are many names for each of the Horsemen, all of which allude to the same thing.

I find white to be an interesting colour association to make with Pollution – many of us would associate it with cleanliness and purity, the complete opposite of what this Horseman stands for.

Lesley’s final delivery instructions are communicated in a handwritten note:

He is clearly aware of the connotations of this delivery, leaving a note for his beloved Maud. Quite why he doesn’t just “fuck this shit” at this point is a mystery to me – I certainly would have done. Perhaps it’s a callback to his Tennyson quote from earlier. I do find myself wondering if he might have avoided Armageddon himself if he had just done the sensible thing though – after all, he has been (unknowingly) tasked with summoning the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, without which there can be no Armageddon. What if he had just refused to make the last of his deliveries? Regardless, the sequence representing his death shows firstly the colour starting to bleed out of the footage before he dissolves into starlight – a recurring theme in Neil’s work.

On to lighter things now – here’s Anathema doing that creepy thing of offering virtually unknown children food again. I love how Bryan’s initial concern about the chocolate is that he thinks it’s coming from a witch. Never mind “stranger danger”, what you really have to watch out for is those witches. Sounds like he’s well suited for a position in the Witchfinder Army.

It’s not unexpected that Shadwell has Jerusalem playing in his (gross) apartment, I think he probably plays that recording on a loop so as to continue feeding his delusions that his insanity is driven by a deep love for his country. The particular line of the song playing here (“in England’s dark Satanic mills”) is pretty well-timed though, seeing as it won’t be long until everything in England has a distinctly devilish tone to it. There’s also an irony to Shadwell’s farewell:

May the armies of glory march beside ye.

I don’t really think that’s a good idea, seeing as how they’re perfectly comfortable with wiping out the entire human race for the sole purpose of winning an argument…

There’s another throwback to Adam’s imagination becoming real in the next scene, with the UFO that Newton witnesses having the same design as the one we saw hanging from Adam’s bookcase earlier in the episode:

And I love the use of the theremin in the soundtrack – nothing screams an old school UFO and aliens more than the sound of a theremin!

Side note: the mention of a “neuter” gender by the alien is in the original book, written in 1996. I hope I’m not being offensive by crediting Neil and Terry with being massively ahead of their time in their support of the LGBTQ+ community there, and applaud them for being beacons of what we should all aspire to be.

Secondary side note: anybody else get Douglas Adams vibes from this alien conversation? For me it really conjures memories of a different universe where an alien race showed up to destroy Earth to make way for a new hyperspace bypass…

We’re back with The Them, with Wensleydale kindly reminding us that whales have big brains, for the third time in this series. I think it’s fair to say that we should be aware each of the children have their own distinct personalities, given the scripting and acting that we have seen up to this point. If we were in any doubt though, it’s really underlined by the fact that they each have a different type of ice lolly.

Again I say the level of attention to detail in this show is truly astounding. We’ll see more of it in the next scene where we see Ligur’s chameleon not only moving independently but that its skin actually cycles though a range a colours. That said, I do have a question about the information available to Anathema in the next scene:

The full prophecy on the card shows us a lot more information than is narrated in the show (like how she knew he was a Witchfinder, and that his descendant was responsible for the death of her own). What it doesn’t say is how she knows exactly the date and time of his arrival. That information isn’t even in any of the scribbled notes on the card. I guess we’ll never know how she comes to find this out.

And on that quandry, I’m going to wrap it up for this part of the episode write up. I realise it’s a slightly odd place in the episode to call it a day, but if I finish here I can use the Fields of Megiddo signpost to head the next part (told you I was a sucker for consistency). So as always, questions, comments, discussion – always welcome.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Here be smut under the cut!!!

"I'm telling you, it's fine."

"Lambert, it's only just stopped bleeding." Aiden replied from where he was knelt behind him on the bed, winding bandages around his chest after once again inspecting the deep gashes left on his shoulder blade by a ghoul and trying to ignore how Lambert's muscles jumped slightly whenever his fingertips accidentally (and sometimes not so accidentally) grazed bare skin, "Humour me. At least until morning."

"Aw, I didn't know you cared." Lambert replied sarcastically from his perch on the edge, staring at a knot in the wooden floor by his foot.

"Nah. I just don't want to get charged extra because you ruined the bedding. Done."

"Gonna kiss it better too?" Lambert asked, freezing when he felt the Cat do exactly that.

Aiden wasn't quite sure what possessed him to press a quick kiss to the bare skin just above the bandages. He should probably pass it off as a joke, no harm done. Instead, he left another - this one a little more lingering. He trailed his lips slowly upwards, as he gently stroked over Lambert's stomach and chest, watching and listening for any signs of discomfort. The other perfectly still and silent save for a slight uptick in his breathing. He opened his mouth on the next, flicking his tongue against warm skin and fuck, Lambert tasted better than he'd imagined. A stubborn hint of sweat and blood lingering despite the fact they'd both bathed. He brought his teeth into play when he reached the juncture of Lambert's neck and shoulder, just the barest hint of pressure with sharp canines as his hands started wandering with more intent whilst staying firmly above the belt (for now, anyway).

Lambert jerked with a hiss as Aiden's nails scraped against the pebbled nipple which wasn't covered by the bandages. He felt a hand suddenly fist in his hair and pull him away as Lambert turned his head to look at him. Aiden flicked his eyes upwards, an apology on his lips now that whatever spell they'd been under had broken. He was stopped by twin rings of lust blown yellow and black.

"Lambert?"

"Don't start something you don't plan on finishing." The words were said in a harsh, warning growl but Aiden had known him long enough to pinpoint the vulnerability underneath.

Aiden held his gaze for a couple of Witcher-slow heartbeats before shifting, Lambert's fingers catching in his hair a little as he released him, resulting in teeny pinpricks of barely there pain. He didn't miss the Wolf's poorly hidden disappointment when he moved off the bed. The hopeful confusion when he instead situated himself in Lambert's lap, straddling him and removing his own shirt before tossing it away (he was pretty sure it landed in the still full bath, but that was a problem for later).

"Yes?" He asked, looping his arms around Lambert's neck, giving a gasp to harmonize with Lambert's low groan as he pulled Aiden further into his lap, causing their erections to brush together.

"Yeah." Lambert breathed out before tangling his fingers back in dark curls and pulling Aiden's mouth towards his own.

Aiden wasn't sure who'd started grinding on who first and right now he didn't care. All he cared about was Lambert's hands on his arse, encouraging him to go harder, faster. The others head was thrown back in an almost continual moan as Aiden left sucking kisses on his neck, his hand finding its way back to Lambert's nipple, interspersing gentle circles with harsh tweaks.

"Fuck, Aiden."

Aiden shivered at the heat in Lambert's voice as he moaned his name. He needed to hear it again.

He gently shushed the others protests and held onto questing hands as he moved from his new favourite seat. Watching Lambert's eyes widen as he instead firmly nudged Lambert's legs open with his own and knelt on the floor between them, hands resting on Lambert's thighs as he nosed at his crotch, looking up at him through thick lashes.

"Can I? Fuck, please say I can."

Lambert could only nod dumbly, causing Aiden to grin widely as he practically attacked the ties to his trousers. He purred as he stroked Lambert languidly, huffing slightly in amusement as he almost launched himself off the bed when Aiden ghosted a sharp fingernail ever so lightly along the sensitive underside of his length, watching it jump and twitch. He gave the head a couple of teasing licks, smirking as Lambert cursed creatively enough to make a Skelligan sailor take notes.

"Say my name again?" Aiden asked before he opened his mouth wider and descended.

Lambert was pretty sure Aiden was trying to suck his soul out through his dick and he was totally at peace with that. He'd die a happy man here and now, so long as Aiden kept doing whatever the hell that was with his tongue. The others purrs vibrating up into his gut.

"Aiden...Aiden. Shit, Aiden!" The name sounded more reverential as he gasped it out than that of any of the gods he'd had to pay false homage to over the course of his long life.

He brushed a handful of Aiden's hair back off his face, following the motion through until his hand was resting on the back of the others neck, his free hand fisting tightly in the sheets. Aiden threw him a soft look at that which made Lambert feel warmer than anything else they'd done so far before apparently deciding to double down his efforts. He alternated between long, caressing sucks and rapid tongue flicks whilst rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs on Lambert's hips.

"Aiden. Gonna-"

Aiden hummed in understanding, not stopping until he felt Lambert go rigid with a wordless shout. His eyes slipped closed in contentment as he took everything Lambert gave him, holding him still in his mouth and stroking him gently with his tongue as he worked him through his climax. Lambert found himself wondering how somebody could look that blissed out when they hadn't even been touched yet as he came back to himself.

"Alright?" Aiden asked as he stood back up, resting his weight on Lambert's thighs and leaning forwards so he was hovering over Lambert slightly.

Lambert's response was to lunge forwards and capture Aiden's mouth again, pushing and pulling until they were both in the middle of the bed, Aiden flat on his back with Lambert hovering over him, resting his weight on one arm as they kissed deeply between Lambert toying with his nipples in a way that had the Cat moaning and writhing deliciously. His back arched off the bed when Lambert's fingers dipped underneath the waistband of his trousers, petting the start of wiry hair - tantalisingly close, but not close enough as he avoided the others cock - before withdrawing and slowly working them open. Teasing.

"My turn." He said with a salicious grin, having every intention of returning the favour until Aiden grabbed onto his shoulders with a noise of protest, "No?" He asked, bringing his hand back up to cup Aiden's cheek.

Aiden shook his head, his whole body trembling, "Can't kiss you if you're down there."

And honestly, what other response could Lambert give to that apart from kissing him like he was trying to taste what he'd had for breakfast? To hide the mix of emotions that was more than likely showing on his own face if nothing else.

He felt Aiden guide his hand from where it was rolling his nipple to down between his legs. Lambert got the hint immediately and was all too happy to oblige. He stroked in time with the lazy pace of their kisses as Aiden mewled and whined, rolling his hips to match the rhythm Lambert set. He found himself torn between wanting to draw it out so he could see what other noises he could coax and wanting to just get Aiden off as quickly as possible so he could see what he looked like as he peaked. Aiden soon made that decision for him, spreading his legs wider as the movement of his hips started to become more erratic.

"Lambert." He breathed out, hiding his face in the others shoulder.

"Don't do that." Lambert whispered planting a kiss that ended up landing on the shell of Aiden's ear, "Want to see you, I've got you, Kitten. Let me see you?"

Aiden gave a tiny moan and moved his head with what seemed to be a herculian effort, not a trace of green left in his eyes which widened as he let out a silent scream, back bowing as he coated Lambert's hand with his release.

"That's it, so good Kitten, I've got you." Lambert praised as he worked Aiden through it. Blanketing the other with his body when he slumped back down onto the mattress. He made to once again brush Aiden's hair out of his eyes before remembering what exactly his hand was covered in. The Cat apparently had no such qualms, grabbing it by the wrist and using his tongue to daintily clean off his own spend with all the fussiness of his schools namesake.

"Fucking hell.' Lambert groaned, burying his face in the pillow right next to Aiden's head, "You can't just do shit like that."

"Can and did." Aiden answered cheekily, releasing the hand which ended up venturing no further than resting limply on his chest as Lambert turned his head to squint at him. Aiden wriggled fully out of his trousers and braise underneath him and motioned for Lambert to do the same. Laughing when he caught Lambert averting his gaze.

"Seriously? We've seen each other naked before."

"S'different now." Lambert muttured as he moved to comply, resuming his previous position draped over Aiden before his clothes had even hit the floor.

"Good different or bad different?"

"Depends." Lambert shifted his head to look at him, "This a one time thing?"

Aiden cocked his head slightly, "You told me not to start something I didn't plan on finishing, right?"

Lambert said nothing as he let Aiden guide his head down until it was resting on his chest, long fingers carding through his hair, "I'm nowhere near finished with you yet. Might not be for a long, long time."

Lambert snuggled impossibly closer in response.

[diablo-that-first-spark]

Hell has frozen over: I am deviating from the lore

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my dearest cupcakes, you read that correctly. Hell is indeed an icy wasteland now and the Seven Evils need full winter gear to function. I am officially ignoring certain parts of the lore and deviating back to a previous version of them.

For those who don’t really know me, here’s why this is a big deal:

Lore is sacred.

Respect the goddamn source material.

These are the two golden rules I always follow, no matter the fanart or fanfiction I create (I’m talking about serious attempts here, not jokey sketches or memes, of course). I do not trample over established lore and rules in a world, just because I want to tell my story. I always do my best to make my story and characters work within the guidelines already set by the original creators. I don’t retcon backstories, I don’t blackwash, I especially don’t rainbow-wash, all of these are shameful practices in my eyes, and I would not be caught dead doing them.

Anyway.

With Diablo 4 out and its spin-off stories being published, I am finally forced to partially let go of the “Lore is sacred” golden rule… or at the very least, stay true to a former version of said lore. Namely, the Diablo 3 and the Sin War trilogy versions.

Now, it is obvious that Blizzard is doing its best to ignore D3 altogether in D4, outside of bringing back a few older locations like Maghda’s boss arena or the Forgotten Overlook. Returning D3 characters would rather die than mention anything from that game, while D2 characters (who should be dead 3 times over by this point) can’t shut the hell up about their former adventures.

It is also an undisputed fact that D3 is the least popular entry in the franchise among the hardcore non-fanart-creating part of the fandom. A sad fact, but a fact nonetheless.

Now, I am not saying Blizzard is a shit company, they don’t know what they are doing, I know better. No. Stories change. Things get retconned. Characters rewritten. Course-correction is necessary. That happens to almost every long-running story, it is entirely normal.

I just don’t like these changes, I think they take away from the lore overall. Attempts to erase my favorite entry from the franchise won’t make me happy, naturally, even if I wholeheartedly understand the purely logical and business reasons behind it.

So! Not to mince words, here is a list of every retcon I can think of from the top of my head, that I am going to apply to That First Spark:

1) Nephalem are weak no-name peasants who look perfectly human

Going by D3 and Sin War rules, in TFS nephalem are absolute powerhouses who survive insane shit being thrown at them, just because they are nephalem. Their power level is either off the charts or much higher than normal, both in magic and in physical strength. As a personal preference, I will also make the First Generation Nephalem (namely, Rathma) a little bit inhuman. I lllloved it when we still believed Elias would be Rathma, his design was perfect for the role. I will give Rathma a bit of a redesign for Act IV but his slight but disturbing inhuman appearance will remain so. No full-blown furry designs, that is just ridiculous, good lord.

(One day, I might write a rant about the current state of the Nephalem-era of history, because it is an absolute travesty. One day.)

2) Inarius is just a “lieutenant” of Tyrael

Yeah, nah, eff that. Rhythm brothers, till the day I die.

3) Rathma becomes the First Necromancer after he corrects a very plot-convenient mistake.

(Not going into more detail because the Rathma graphic novel is still very new.)

I’m going back to the original lore, which is far more interesting: Linarian had started a rebellion among his generation, after he realized their children were born weaker because of Inarius’ meddling. The rebellion goes horribly wrong, Inarius manages to kill most of the first generation nephalem with the aid of the Worldstone then he disappears and suffers a fate of isolation that eventually breaks his mind. On the other side, Linarian goes insane over the guilt of leading his fellow nephalem to their deaths, until the dragon Trag’Oul finds him and teaches him of the Balance, giving him the name “Rathma” (“Keeper of the Balance”).

None of this is made up by me, btw. This is how the lore was in the Sin War trilogy books.

4) Demons can be born/manufactured from the blood of angels

That is just the dumbest stuff Diablo Immortal has ever pulled, like hell I will work with that.

5) Lyndon didn’t kill Rea, instead he allows her to make his life hell

Hells, I already retconned it with the ending of Act I, without even trying. I saw into the future with this!

On a personal note: this is the most terrible story line they could have given to Lyndon, I hate everything about it, and I wish it to the deepest pits of hell. He deserves better. Grimdark is utter trash.

6) Lilith is an unkillable boss bitch that walks away from lethal crippling injuries like it’s nothing

Oh do not worry, she is going to be an absolute nightmare to take down. Quiet and co. will have to work for it hard. But originally Lilith has never been the “strahng wahmen unkillable boss bitch” modern day trope, and she won’t be that in TFS either. I have to be clever with what kind of injuries she may or may not receive.

7) Kingsport is on the south-western shore of the Western Continent

TFS works with the Diablo 3 version of the world map. If there is a location that is needed for the story, which shows up on the D4 map, but not the D3 map, I will bring that one detail in. There is nothing big behind this decision, I just grew used to the D3 map.

8) Lilith initiates the Purge of the Renegades because of Linarian's vision her son told her about

I am working with the Book of Cain version: Lilith assumes Inarius is already plotting the genocide of the children when he withdraws to meditate on the right choice. So she kills every angel and demon so that should Inarius want to destroy the children, he would remain utterly alone on a dead world. Her gambit would pay off in the end, although not before Inarius banishes her.

---

I am sure there will be a bit more retcons down the line, but for now, these are the critical nodes I see from here.

It probably doesn’t sound too bad for you, and I agree, I am probably making a mountain out of a mole-hill here. However, I have my own code to follow in creative works, and I honestly feel like this deviation from my usual methods warrants a heads-up.

So, anyway, back to the drawing board! I wish I had an ETA to give you cupcakes about the arrival of Act IV, but unfortunately I don’t. Thank you for your continuous patience!

2024.08.26.

[antichilde]

common ground

satoru gojo x fem reader, 2.7k words mdni

contents: 18+, fluff and smut, upperclassman gojo, inexperienced reader, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, no use of y/n, one shot… for now. haha, just kidding. unless..?

warnings: somnophilia, use of the word cunt, gendered language (gojo calls you ‘pretty girl’), semi-public sex

notes: let me know if you’d be interested in a part 2. based on a dream i had but i swear i don’t even like gojo that much

ao3 post

You dream of Gojo, warm and solid beneath you. It’s not the first time you’ve dreamed about him, nor will it be the last, but something about this one feels different. All the little details that your mind usually skips over have been filled in: his steady breathing, the scent of his cologne, the softness of his shirt as you clutch at the hem. It would appear that your mind has conjured them all for you to enjoy.

You can’t pinpoint when you become aware of the fact that you’re not completely asleep, but as you doze it registers that this is all a little too real to be a dream. There’s no sense of urgency or sudden revelation in your exhausted mind, just the knowledge that you should probably get up in the near future.

Gojo stirs when your eyes flutter open, your lashes tickling the skin of his neck. “Good morning.”

It’s very clearly not morning. The light streaming in from the windows has the distinct golden quality of late afternoon.

“What time is it?” you ask, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

His glances over at the clock. “A little after five. You were out for about an hour.”

Following his gaze, you recognize the familiar scenery of your dorm’s common area. How did you even…?

It’s at this point that the full context of your situation finally registers: you’d taken a nap on your upperclassman and long-time crush, Satoru Gojo. That on its own would be embarrassing and grounds for merciless teasing, but add to it the fact that you’ve been clinging to his shirt and possibly drooling all over him? He’s never going to let you live this one down.

His arm wraps around your waist as you start to sit up. “Hey, take it easy. No need to get up right away, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But—“

“But nothing. You need to rest.”

Trying to squirm out of his iron grip, you shift on his lap and another humiliating truth makes itself known.

One of his thighs is wedged between your legs. Based on the low buzz of arousal registering in your hips and cunt you’re almost certain you’d been grinding on him in your sleep.

Dropping your head back down onto his shoulder, you try to gauge the situation. Just because you can feel that you’re wet doesn’t necessarily mean that he feels it, right? Unless you’ve already soaked through the thin fabric of your panties, in which case you’re about to die of embarrassment.

“Where’s everyone else?” you ask tentatively.

“Out. They’ll be back in a couple hours.” Gojo’s lips curl into a little smile. “Why do you ask? Are you worried about getting caught in such a compromising position?”

“I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

His smile widens into a full-blown grin. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Can’t have our classmates seeing the wet patch you left on my thigh. That would definitely give them the wrong idea.”

Of fucking course he knows. You’ve had enough of this. Gojo’s grip is as unbreakable as ever, but if you really make a scene you know he’ll let you go.

“That’s it. I’m getting up,” you say. It’s all the warning he gets before you try to escape. Gojo’s eyes widen as you thrash around in his arms, his glasses sliding down his nose.

“Hey, what are y—!”

He tightens his grip on your waist, using it as leverage to hold you at arms length the same way one would a feral kitten. This inadvertently drags your hips along his thigh, pulling a borderline pornographic moan from you. Both of you freeze.

For a moment the only sound is the slight creak of the fan blades whirling overhead.

“…Everyone is actually out, right?” you ask, staring hard at his collar. There’s no way you’re going to be able to meet his eyes right now.

“Yeah.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, smug bastard. “It’s just us.”

He loosens his hold on you, setting your full weight down on his thigh. The stimulation draws a whine from you, considerably less loud but just as embarrassing, and his fingers twitch, digging into you before he makes himself relax them.

“You still wanna get up?” he asks, running the pad of his thumb along your waistband. “Because you can if you want to, or you can keep riding my thigh. It’s up to you.”

Okay, so he’s giving you an out. That’s nice of him, even though there’s no way you’re going to take it. This is so humiliating.

Leaning forwards, you return to your original position, burying your face in his collar. He laughs, cradling you to him.

“Aw, don’t go getting all shy on me now. It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“What was I doing before I woke up?” The question comes out muffled, but he seems to understand it anyway.

“Well, let’s see…” Tapping a finger against his lips, Gojo reflects on the past hour. “At first you were just sleeping quietly, then you started making all these cute little noises. And then… Y’know it might be easier for me to just show you. Would you like that?”

Nodding against him, you shudder as his fingers tighten on you.

“It was like this,” he says, guiding your hips into a slow rhythm. Your eyes flutter closed, moaning softly into the fabric of his shirt.

“You like that, baby?” He stops, patting your thigh. “C’mon. Let me see that pretty face.”

It takes you a moment to work up the nerve but you manage to sit up, your eyes glued to the collar of his shirt.

“Look at me.”

Again, you do as you’re told. Gojo’s glasses are still low enough that he can peek over the top of them, his brilliant eyes drinking in the sight of you. Without thinking, you reach out to push them up the bridge of his nose, your fingertips skimming over his cheekbones.

You shift on his lap, dropping your hands to your sides. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Wow, you really are dumb sometimes.” Gojo says, flicking your forehead affectionately. “If you need it spelled out, no, I’m not uncomfortable. It was cute.”

Wincing, you rub at the spot where his fingers made contact. “Was that really necessary?”

You can’t help the way your breath hitches when he reaches out again, this time gently cupping your cheek to hold your face still. The pad of his thumb traces a little heart over the skin of your forehead. It’s enough to lull you into a sense of security, your body relaxing into his hold. You close your eyes, only to snap them open again as he flicks you for a second time.

“Ow! What the hell, Gojo?”

“Sorry,” he says, grinning unapologetically. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re such a bully.”

You swat his hands away and he laughs, leaning against the back of the sofa and folding his arms behind his head. Your eyes travel over him, stopping just below his hips. “And you’re a liar. That doesn’t look very comfortable to me.”

He follows your gaze to the very obvious bulge in the front of his pants.

“Oh, right, that,” he says, his tone conversational. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad. I might die, actually. You wanna help me out?”

“I’ve never done anything like that before.” You can’t seem to look away, your teeth worrying at your lower lip.

“You don’t have to,” he says. “It’s only fun if you’re into it.”

It’s not a question of whether or not you’re into it, more whether or not you’re brave enough to try. You reach out tentatively, glancing up at him for approval before you touch him. He gives you a little nod, catching your hand with his own when he sees the hesitation on your face.

“Do you want me to show you how?”

“Yes please,” you reply shyly.

When he guides your palm to his cock, the first thing you notice is how hard he feels beneath your fingers. It catches you by surprise, which is stupid because it’s literally called a hard on. Still, it’s an unfamiliar sensation, and you let Gojo set the pace.

“Like this,” he says, squeezing your hand just enough to tighten your grip on him. A little noise catches in the back of his throat and without thinking you clench your legs around his thigh again. Your reaction makes him smile.

“You like that, pretty girl? Knowing you’re making me feel good?”

His voice is a little strained, and you take the opportunity to experiment with your strokes, relishing the way his brows knit together when you press down harder.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his fingers digging into your side. “Keep going, just like that.”

He licks his lips, using his leverage to rock you against him again. You feel him twitch beneath you when you moan breathlessly.

“So fucking cute. It was driving me crazy, feeling you grind on me. You know, you said my name too— I thought I was imagining it at first but you said it again.”

Though one-handed, the grip on your hips is brutal as he rolls you against him in a way that makes you see stars. The rhythm of your fingers falters as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a familiar pressure build between your hips. He must feel you start to clench around him again, because he gently nudges your hand away from him.

“Sit back. I want to see you cum.”

He pauses, waiting for you to confirm that’s what you want as well before continuing. His hold on you relaxes, his finger tracing little shapes into the soft skin just below your waistband.

“Like this?” you ask, straightening up.

“A little more.” His voice is tight, though it’s clear he’s making an effort to hide it. You nod, doing as he says, and reach behind you to stabilize yourself.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, drinking in the sight of you. “Now lift your skirt.”

His hand slides so that his palm is flat against the small of your back. You’re slow to let go of his thigh, worried about how you’re going to support yourself, but he shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, pretty girl.”

When he sees you hesitate a moment longer, he guides you so that you’re sitting upright again. “Too much?”

“No, not at all.” You fiddle with the pleats of your skirt. “I was just trying to remember which panties I’m wearing. I don’t know if they’re cute ones.”

That draws a smile from him, though he tries to hide it. “Trust me when I say I will not be focused on your panties.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he says, and you force yourself to relax, leaning back and letting him support your weight. Your fingers catch at your hem, pulling it up, eyes darting up to his face and searching his expression. You’re not sure what you expect to find there— despite his reassurance, part of you is convinced that he’s not going to like what he sees. The way his pupils dilate would suggest otherwise.

“Fuck,” he groans, reaching out with his free hand. He stops just before his fingers make contact with you. “Can I?”

You nod, whining as he brushes his thumb over the soaked fabric of your panties. Though you’re no longer right on the edge of your orgasm, you can still feel its pressure in your abdomen. Whatever you’d been doing in your sleep must’ve gotten you seriously riled up.

“So sensitive,” Gojo murmurs, tracing around the outline of your clit. His slender index finger hooks around your underwear, pulling it to the side. “And so pretty too. God, you really are wet, aren’t you?”

Your reply is lost as he begins touching you in earnest, his keen eyes taking in all your little reactions and adjusting his motions to match. Soon you’re coming apart at the seams, trying your best to keep yourself quiet and failing miserably. Your increasingly shrill noises seem too loud in the empty common room, but as soon as Gojo slips a finger inside of you your mind goes blank and any concerns about the public setting fall away. His thumb works at your clit in quick, tight circles.

“Gojo, I—“ Your hands shoot out, locking around his forearm in your desperation to find something to cling to.

His pace doesn’t falter even as he adds another finger. “You gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess all over my lap?”

Nodding, you squeeze your eyes shut as the wave inside you finally crests, biting your lip to muffle your cries of his name as you cum. Your orgasm hits you hard, your body clenching down around Gojo in a way that draws a few choice curses from his lips. He works you through your high, filling the room with slick, rhythmic noises that would’ve embarrassed you had your mind not been otherwise occupied. As the pleasure begins to fade Gojo withdraws, bringing his fingers to his lips and tasting you. Panting, you let the hand on your back guide you forward until you’re slumped against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you.

“You did so well,” he murmurs, giving you a little squeeze. You feel his lips press against your temple, lingering for a long moment before he pulls away. As you open your mouth to reply, the unmistakable sound of a door slamming cuts through the quiet air. Both of you tense, Gojo’s hands tightening again.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “I guess they’re back early.”

You try to sit up as you had after your nap, but once again his grip is too strong.

“Hey, calm down. I’ve got you.”

“What if they heard us?” you hiss, craning to get a better look down the hallway.

“They didn’t,” he says, and though part of you wants to question this, the authority in his voice calms you. “And before you ask, they won’t see us either.”

There’s a rush of wind and Gojo shifts underneath you, sprawling flat on his back. With a noise of surprise you collapse on top of him, startled by this sudden change in position, and are confused to see that the common room has shifted into the inside of one of the student dorms.

“You warped us?”

“Being the strongest has its perks.”

Laying there in his arms, safe and warm, you realize just how sleepy you are despite having woken up from your nap less than an hour ago. Gojo seems to pick up on this, though you’re not sure how.

“Tired again?” he asks, stroking your hair.

“No, I’m fine.”

Shaking his head, he gives your forehead another flick. This one is much lighter, and he tilts his chin so that he can press his lips to the spot immediately afterwards.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that? Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“But you haven’t even gotten to cum yet. That doesn’t seem fair.”

Pushing back so that you’re straddling him, you roll your hips experimentally and watch with satisfaction as the corner of his mouth twitches. You can still feel how hard he is beneath you, his erection digging into your inner thigh.

“Another time,” he says firmly, speaking more to himself than to you. “For now, just give me a kiss and we’ll call it even.”

A kiss. Somehow that’s what flusters you more than anything else he’s suggested so far. He’s already kissed you a few times, though you’re not sure if those really count since they weren’t on your mouth. Your eyes fall to his lips, studying them for a moment. Like everything else about Gojo, they’re pretty to an unimaginable degree. Leaning forwards, you plant your hands on either side of his shoulders, your palms sinking into the soft fabric of his pillows.

He doesn’t rush you as you close the gap between the two of you. For once there are no games or teasing, and he kisses you sweetly as his hand moves to cup the back of your neck. You can’t meet his eyes when you pull away, instead returning to your default position and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he says with a contented sigh. “That was perfect.”