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eldrith · 10 days

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˗ˏˋ neglected ˎˊ˗ jacaerys velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x fem!wife!reader words: 7.8k synopsis: being the prince and princess of dragonstone has its troubles. notes: i literally just wrote this in a fever... ohmy gof this is ... im ashamed of this one yall. (ps the amount of times jace says 'love' in this... eugh sorry) & i guess you're not rly a princess but walk with me here ok idc! but thank you to my slut cult for the aid & encouragement. this isn’t edited at all LOL love u xoxo warnings: au - canon-divergent & set after the dance; rhaenyra sits the throne, & all is peaceful. nothing but pure smut this is - PiV, fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, slight mentions of exhibitionism, love biting, switch!jace&switch!reader, spitting kink (dont look at me.) size kink, jace smacks reader's ass a bit, multiple positions, slight argument, TEASING, hair pulling, theyre pent up and desperate and in love ok. valyrian is translated at the end (author uses a translator so if its wrong im sorry). feedback is appreciated<3 requests open. masterlist.

THE SCRATCH OF QUILL BITES AT YOUR MIND.

Such a cavernous room - an empty, wanting room - to be unoccupied at this hour. Precariously structured at the base of the stone drum, it is swallowed by the earth surrounding it, warm only from the magma which churns deep below your feet - and you feel warm, too, though you remain in clothing lighter, looser than normal.

It has proven a summer longer than expected; the end of a dance, with your husband’s mother sitting upon throne of steel. The nights short and days long - languid, with the scent of salt, of peace. Days of warmth that drips into the sip of deeproot trees, which pump through rooted veins and spill from the tips of greened leaves, even upon the ashy earth of Dragonstone; rolling over moors and hills in waves of distant languorous heat.

Bits of dust fall from the higher scrolls of histories towering above your head - and you, hair tied back just enough to keep tendrils from obscuring your vision, fingers guiding the quill which scratches against parchment. Your skin has a sheen of sweat; your gown - if it could even be considered such, not much more than a summery slip - sticks to your spine despite the cool air of eve outside the castle’s walls.

Doors to the stairs above creak - the mouth of a dragon, some ancient serpentine form carved along the walkway descending down to you; though you do not look up, even with the echo of footfall down each step.

A focus, rather, on the deft melt of darkened crimson wax, of the sigil you press lightly to it, in hopes of returning sentiments across the Gullet.

There is a book discarded next to you - in some petty breath, you sigh and move your attention to it, feeling the sting of trivial unimportance as you catch a glimpse of dark curls against the candlelight.

Perhaps your husband fancies himself a sneak; he fails to remember you’ve known the sound of his footfalls as well as your own since you were quite young. You do not bother yourself to look up to him, not when the irritation within your veins runs as hot as the dragons which stir low below the rock in the Mont.

“Good evening,” You greet instead - the line of handscript before you is quite gripping, and you barely regret keeping your eyes away from his own.

He of course takes notice of your clipped tone; a step towards you, a sigh tinged with exhaustion.

“You weren’t in your chambers,” Jacaerys observes - his very own tone equally clipped, assuming. Your husband has been plagued by court and duties quite oft recently; and you, quite strung by the demanding nature of your own responsibilities - the exhaustion of diplomacy and liaisons have smelted your spine into a rather straight rod, though your eyes weary with exhaust.

“Ser Bentley told me you’d gone on the ride alone.” Jacaerys observes again in lieu of your silence. “I asked him to deliver my apology - I had to attend the court. It was… unavoidable.”

The pages of parchment, traced with your finger before flipped over. A memory of the muggy evening- sunfall, when Jace had promised to ride alongside you on horseback to the village in the Southern coast of the Island. A quieter ride when alone, for certain. Jacaerys’s weight shifts in your forevision, a tell; he’s tired of your quiet. A sigh from your lips, nodding slowly.

“Aye, he did, and I heard him.” You affirm, rising from the bench, eyeing the book and letter you’d left discarded upon the stone table. “But I did not wish to waste the day in wait for your spare moment.”

At this, he bristles; you see it upon his handsome face, graced with the kiss of candlelight - a self-reproach laced into the clench of jaw when he comes closer to your watchful glower.

He murmurs your name, low. “I regret that I left you alone. I am sorry.”

You nod, “I know you are.”

You sigh, leaning just against the side of the stone table as you wave one hand. “It is past.” You assure your husband, watching his eyes rove over your figure, fleeting in the faint flickering of night.

He knows you, just as well as you know him; and his arms cross over the hilt at his side, empty of the sheath nor regular sword he oft carries. His brows are drawn low. “I would have accompanied you if I could.” He, with a lick of defense upon his tongue - an addition, his eyes moving from your own to stare across the way, at the shelves of books: “This is never what I wish to happen.”

And something about it; perhaps the heat, the exhaustion, how you miss your husband - it drives you to exhale sharply, a bitter laugh escaping your lips.

“-And yet, it is what happens.” You cross your arms, tone sharper than intended. “Court. Council. The men who cling to you with their endless needs - small as they might be - they always come first.” It is your futile attempt to sound indifferent, though there is a bitterness that falls flat upon the air between you and him.

Jacaerys’ eyes narrow as he levels you with a look, exhaling sharply from his nostrils. There is a reflection, there - a molten amber that drips from the torches lit low across the library, from the stagnant air of the history of his ancestral house surrounding you, scribbled in scrolls, bound in tomes.

He sighs, palm running over his face. “It is not by choice, my love. If I could leave them to their own devices, I would - but I have a responsibility, and you of all people should understand that.” He argues, gesturing to the scroll that sits just upon the table, signed and penned for the Queen herself. Your own political role, never brushed to the side by your husband nor you.

Your laugh is short, mirthless. “I do understand.” You acquiesce, nodding, “But it doesn’t mean I have to enjoy being ignored in favor of the court.”

A moment, where his lips purse; a very handsome man he is, you observe with a rush of affection - and it is also true, he works exhaustibly for what he loves. This, you know.

He murmurs your name. “You are second to nothing in this world, or above.”

His words are genuine - his love for you, a devotion; a marriage of strategy and yet grown with love, with care. And for him, from you - the very devoted same. You sigh, nodding gently.

Although, a lingering resentment - not at your husband, for all his kind and valiant efforts to assure you do not feel alone in the weeks past - festers, bubbling in your gut as your hands fall to interlock before your hips in a passive shrug. “I can only assume your precious council kept you with their endless bickering.” The tone is curt in your attempt to stay calm; perhaps a near imperceptible shift in the air along the base of the stone drum as your husband levels you with a rather exasperated stare, jaw tightening.

“They are imbeciles,” he agrees - clearly on edge, “Arguing over things that should’ve been decided moons ago. I waste hours, listening to men who wouldn't know sense if it struck them.”

The glint of his signet rings catch your stare as lithe fingers run through curls; your eyes track the dark metal as they gleam against faint light.

His voice grows harsher, though you resist the urge to smirk at your husband’s ire.

“-I’ve no choice but to listen, but gods, how they test me.” He mutters, tilting his head back; and the expanse of creamy skin, lit golden in the candleglow; his hair, thick tresses that move when he exhales sharply.

The sight is maddeningly enticing; you huff, glancing away - reminding yourself now is not the time for improper thoughts.

Your own frustration begins to ebb. "Your temper will find you in trouble, husband,” you warn, knowing his words aren’t aimed at you; and the bite in his tone sends a flutter of interest through your stomach.

Maddeningly, his lashes flutter and kiss the breath of skin above his cheeks when his glare sharpens; a flare of irritability, that thing you know hangs over the head of any who bears the weight of impending crown. Heavy is the breath of kings.

“You mustn’t chide me. I know my anger is misplaced," he snaps - your brows raise, unimpressed by his temper.

Yet then, more softly, almost defeated, he shakes his head - an apologetic ring in his gaze. “I apologize, my love. I am not blind to how little time we find."

A heavy sigh as he shifts against the table, thighs spreading as if inviting you between them, should you so choose; and Jace - your Jace, looking upon you with melting eyes.

His touch, - kind, as his hands find your own. “I’m pulled in a hundred directions each morrow,” He murmurs. A squeeze of your palms in his own as you step between his thighs - a weariness seeps into his words. “-But I never intend to leave you… neglected.”

His lips, plump and worried under his teeth; soft, sweet, ripe for your own to find. You hum, eyes stuck on the curve of his upper bow; in the warmth of breath that falls from his regretful lips.

Neglected. It is indeed true, that you’ve been neglected as of late - the moon has well waxed and waned since you last welcomed him between your thighs, and you find yourself aching terribly for him.

No fault of his own, nor yours; the world simply moves in a pace much too quick for your desire - trips to the capitol, holding court for the constituents of the Crownlands; duties plenty as Prince and Princess of Dragonstone.

Your palm cups his jaw; tense shoulders fall at your warm touch. You wish to say many things, but you see the storm brewing behind his gaze, and so you instead hum gently, “I mislike competing with the realm for you,” You admit, the ghost of some rueful smile, echoed in kind by your husband, “We both deserve more than promises of time that never comes.”

There is an ebb to the discontent in his gaze; a melting of memories of whatever foolish lord had suggested new embargoes with the merchant pirates across the Narrow Sea; of whomever held up his time this afternoon so his stew went cold and uneaten just in exchange for a new opportunity for trade crops with the Reach before summer’s end.

You allow your hand to travel over the countenance you love so dearly; valleys and ridges, stern brow that eases with your touch. And in his stare, some ire that melts into a molten craving you indeed echo within your own gaze.

His lips press a gentle kiss to your thumb when it grazes his cheek - in turn, he grasps your hand, tugging the soft skin of inner wrist, pecking it gently.

“I’m trying…” Jacaerys whispers after a heavy pause, “I’m trying to be everywhere I’m needed, but I-” There is a tinge of frustration in his tone that he suppresses with a swallow. “I’m failing you, aren’t I?”

It is with a soft heart you take in the sight of your husband - torn between many mounting responsibilities, the shadows of grief, the whispers of life after the end of so many. Indeed, war is a grotesque masquerade - and it is worsened only by the shadows of its afterglow.

A shake of your head, thumb smoothing over his high cheekbone. “You’re not failing me, Jace.” You whisper, “I know what weighs on you.”

It does not deter his determination to beat himself to the ground at your feet.

“You said it yourself,” his voice, strained, “You miss me -and Gods, I miss you infinitely more. I truly regret that we’re always apart.”

Perhaps he notes the rumbling undercurrent of yearning to your next words, the smoldering churn of magma within your gaze, “Well. I am happy that you are here with me now, Jacaerys.” You inform him, “I have missed you in every way and more.”

Jacaerys exhales heavily; a brow, subtly lifting against a lick of flames over his jaw - and a tenderness there, some mirthful interest at your tone.

“You’ve always been too forgiving,” he decides with a small smile; he is close again, near chest to chest with you when he rises from his perch against the stone table - and how he remains, breath fanning over your forehead.

“And what of my duties to my pretty wife?” He whispers - his eyes search your own; chasms of honeyed desire, spooling around you, wrapping you in a silky web of temptation, of charm.

Warmth in your gut at the timbre, how his voice rolls thick through the quieted silence of the old library. He hums in question, then, a provocation - some light amusement at your sudden silence rendered by the heat of the moment. A knuckle grazes hair away from your neck, his lips lifting at the sight of goosepimples in his wake.

Your heart flutters, the ache of your chest spurning into that known burn of desire. A small grin that you attempt to conceal, relishing how his hand snakes then around the back of your neck, cradling the base of your head.

“What duties would that be, husband?” your voice - breathless, teasing.

The hand not threaded in the roots of your tresses moves to pull you by waist; and a slow, knowing hum, his eyes darkening with intent as his thumb grazes the sensitive skin at the base of your neck.

He leans into your space - breath hot against your ear, and shivers find themselves upon the ridges of your spine. “-Of loving you as you deserve,” His thumb strokes your waist, “Worshipping you. Of making you mine in every way.” His tone, sultry - a tease, your husband can become when he so wishes; breath warm against your ear. The hand on your waist moves, brushing the fabric of your gown with maddening lightness. “-Of showing you just how much I’ve missed you, how much I need you.”

A swell of heat; your eyes, flickering to the eastern end of the large staircase, where heavy doors lie; and your sworn sword and Jacaerys’s own, posted just outside.

Jace watches your every move when your gaze returns; the curl upon his jaw, how you take in his regal shoulders, the slope of his nose, the plush of his lips. His eyes burn into yours. Deep, hungry, intent - your swallow is thick. “Perhaps you should attend to those duties.” You suggest, ignoring your breathless tone.

His gaze darkens in that way that always brings your stomach to flutter. “Here?” You do not miss the excitement laced through his tone at the thought. “-Is that what you desire, my love?” His lips, so very close to your own; hunger spurs you on your toes, pressing up against his warmth.

Some searing need, that pressing and all-consuming desire that climbs from your aching core and begins to choke you with its intoxicating spell. “Yes,” your hands, lithe and gentle, slide up his chest, curling into the fabric of his doublet. “-More than anything.”

He hums, eyes alight with devotion. With a slow, deliberate motion, he tilts your head from the base of your neck up towards his own.

A gentle pull towards him - and your noses, sliding along warm skin, breaths puffing in stuttering need. And after a moment of anticipation, your lips upon his own.

A soft sigh from your mouth into his - and Jace’s warmth, how it bleeds so knowingly into your skin.

His hands cradle your jaw and hip, some hunger, a relief between your joined mouths as those sweetened lips follow your own - slow, purposeful; taste of wine and of those sweet anise cakes he seems to eliminate by the plateful.

An adoring smile from you, teeth clashing just so as Jacaerys takes a step and then several more, coaxing you back, away from the table.

A heady rhythm - your fingers snake to cradle around the base of his throat and shoulder as you stumble backwards, just grazing the bare of his skin above his doublet tenderly as he presses you back.

A groan when you hit the nook of the stone readingsill carved into the wall of the library; propped back against the sill, your thighs part for his own leg to slide between - and a firm press of his body against you. A gasp that falls onto his parted, hungry lips.

The castle above you seems to groan, as if a night storm has rolled in from the bay; distant, there is the roar of a dragon above inky water.

Only a breath as he pulls away, your eyes dark and heavy with hunger. “I’m truly sorry, my love,” he whispers against your lips, hands pressing your hips back against the stone nook. “I swear to you, I’ll not leave you wanting again.” He insists; you believe him.

And when you pull him back to you, fingers upon the base of his neck, you smile. “See that you don’t, husband.” You order; he smirks just ever faintly into your own grin, shaking his head as his lips move to your jaw.

A soft sigh from you, kisses that pepper down your jaw and the sweet column of your throat - gentle as he oft is, you enjoy the fire that seems to grow between you and him; some desperation lingering from the nights spent alone and the frustrations residual in both your minds. A nip of his teeth against the juncture of your neck and collarbone; and his hands, roaming over territory surrendered to him moons ago, fingers catching on the thin fabric of your dress.

Hungry, your own hands fumble to snake around his shoulders, suddenly tugging him against you- Jace stumbles just slightly, chuckling into the skin upon your neck as his hands fall to catch himself upon the stone on either side of your hips.

“Easy, my love.” He murmurs against your flesh, raising goosepimples where his breath fans over you.

You huff, “You’ve made me wait far too long in the last moon, Jacaerys.” You argue breathlessly, flustered as your husband moves to drag at the neckline of your dress with his teeth. “You’re too patient for your own good.” You accuse, though it loses to a sigh as he bites the heated flesh of your breast.

He hums against you once more, pulling you tight against his own hips; a slow roll, a near tease - the length of him, that promise of his own arousal pressed against your desiring heat sends your breath in shutters, shakily exhaling into the library’s air.

He enjoys your reaction very much - a shiver of pleasure through you as he rolls his hips again, slower yet, his eyes watching with increased interest as your lips form a delicate moan.

“I am actively suppressing the desire to disrobe you and take you here, against this very wall,” he groans - a flutter of arousal at his blunt words.

Jace’s fingers slide down your waist, gripping with that possessive fervor you often are reminded of in stolen moments like these; your pulse quickens, core throbbing with hungry need. His next words are pressed into your neck, as if trying to bury them there, “It is less about patience, and more about propriety.”

You huff a short air of amusement through the thrill of butterflies within your stomach, leaning forward into his own space, relishing at the slick of wetness between your thighs.

“Worry not for your manners, Jacaerys.” You whisper, teeth scraping a soft earlobe; his own shudder, a soft groan as your hand snakes lower and lower yet, fumbling with the buckles of his belted sheath. “I’d rather you act upon such desires.” You tilt your head with a hum, “You are the Prince of Dragonstone - are you not? Who’d dare stop you from taking what is yours, within your own castle?”

He groans, a short burst of hot air against your neck as your palm grasps his cock through his trousers - his grip stuttering in the tangled grasp of your tresses. A slight buck of his hips into the cradle of your palm as he lets out a strangled noise.

“Gods,” He nearly groans, “-Let me have you.” He nearly whines, teeth scraping against the heartbeat of your throat.

That coil of arousal has mounted, and you believe you might pass out if he does not take you now. “You needn’t pray to the gods for permission, Jacaerys. Have me.” You murmur - and a gasp when he grasps at your thighs, lifting you just slightly.

You shudder under the touch of his slender fingers, gripping the soft flesh of your backside, pulling yourself to him; and he lifts, then - pushing you onto the ledge, sitting you upon the cold stone before him.

Legs, freed from the skirts of your dress; you pull him by hooked ankle against you, gasping at the immediate press of his cock against your wanting heat.

A shadow dances across the hall above - a gull outside, perhaps, fluttering silkened wings from the moonlight outside; and the far wall, criss-crossed with scrolls towering higher than your eyes strain. A wonder, if either of you would find the will to stop if the shadow weren’t a gull but a human - with a thrill, you come to recognize that it would stop neither of you.

Your husband in front of you, eyes bespeckled with lust and hunger and love. Canting his hips towards your own in a short burst of tease - you let out a startled moan, jolting in pleasure as your arousal stirs - it echoes rather deviously through the empty library, and you have the decency to remember your shame.

There is a mischievous glint in his eyes when he pulls back - a thrill up your spine; “You must be quiet,” he murmurs - a low command, one filled with some delicious lick of urgency. His hands grip your hips tightly and your own palms, grazing over the layers upon his chest and upwards, towards his thick curls. “We mustn’t-”

But he does not finish his thoughts; your fingers, carded through thick, silky tresses, give a playful yank; his head tilts back, and a deep, throaty groan escapes his lips as he shudders in response.

“-Gods,” he groans once more - and his tone, that pleasure, that frustration - you use his momentary distraction to lean in close, your lips brushing against his ear, “Perhaps it’s you we should be worried about.” Your voice is light, pressing a kiss over the goosepimples that have spread across his neck.

Jacaerys’ eyes spark with infatuation. “How I’ve missed you,” He confesses into your open lips, his hands sliding down your leg - tugging until your knee is hooked up above his hip, his palm graces over the bare of your calf, squeezing the muscle which trembles in anticipation.

He lifts by junction of knee, palm moving slow over warm skin revealed to his hungry endeavor; sneaking under your skirts.

Your lashes flutter closed as he kisses you rather deeply - thoroughly - his fingers drag up skirts as they travel, exposing your lower half and allowing the fabric to pool around your waist.

Your teeth nip at his lower lip and you hum, “-And I’ve missed you,” You affirm unto his lips; your hands slip to tug him closer to you by his shoulder blades, he dotingly obliges - lips, breaking from you with a wet string of hunger, his breaths ragged.

They move to travel down the column of your throat, biting softly at the sensitive skin of your neck - you swat his shoulder playfully when his wandering palms squeeze at the junction of your arse and thigh, landing a sound smack upon the rounded flesh.

His searing, cheeky smirk is a most beautiful brand upon your skin.

And perhaps at the reverberation of his smack upon your skin echoing in the empty room - a reminder of your location - he grows deliberate; palms finally grip the back of your thighs and tug your hips abruptly forward on the readingsill.

A thrill of arousal through you at the quick motion, and your husband dips his head - his kisses descend lower, to the hollow of your collarbone.

One of your hands roams to his stomach, the other sliding round his neck as his own fingers dip beneath the fabric of your bodice, pushing it aside just enough to bare more of your skin to his ravenous mouth.

The moment his teeth graze the newly exposed skin, you can’t help the gasp that escapes you, your hand sliding into his hair, tugging sharply once more.

Jacaerys groans against your skin, his hips instinctively bucking against yours as he looks up at you, eyes dark with desire. A teasing grin ghosts across his lips, some ire and amusement only you seem to coax out of your husband.

“-Tug at me like that again, and I’ll forget where we are entirely.” He promises you, fingers sneaking just under the hem of your skirt - and his voice, breathless but with that utter demand - your eyes narrow. As if you and he are both not fully aware of your location?

A challenge, as fingers trembling with heat drag up the bare of your thighs. “-And what exactly does that mean, Jacaerys?” You question him as his fingers continue their ascent, driving you mad with anticipation.

Your voice, echoing in the empty room; doors await at the top of the stairs, ready for near any wandering pair of boots to enter - with an excitement, a thrill, you do not care either way.

Tauntingly, your hands twirl around his curls; and he, with that smug look upon that countenance, blessed by the gods themselves. Jacaerys hums lowly at the flushed tint of your cheeks, and then: His fingers, feather-light, teasing.

You nearly jolt as his touch slides through your molten heat - the tip of a finger gathers your arousal, spreading with a deliberate caress. Your head, weak as you fall back in pleasure, in growing ache and need - and Jacaerys’s palm, cradling the back of your skull to pillow it against the stone behind you.

His breath follows you, whispering into your ear. “It means,” His voice is lower than you’ve heard in many moons - a stirring, haunting hunger within you. “-That I will not hesitate to leave you breathless if you do not cease with your tease.”

Gods, you think, you’ve missed him. “I will cease when you do.” Are instead your words; and with a lift of brow, your husband’s fingers, two dextrous, lithe digits - slide into you, curling just as you keen forward.

It is a stretch you have thoroughly missed; he knows you, he knows the lilt in your breath when he slowly begins to move his fingers, gathering your desire with a swipe of thumb and caressing over your swollen pearl.

“Jace,” You whisper, grip tightening against tresses as you melt into the saccharine feeling of your husband's fingers rocking into you. He hums, “You’re- Gods,” He groans, fingers beginning to pick up their pace, impatient after only a few moments of pressing into your sweet cunt.

Your hands fall as your head tilts against stone; you, mind heated with the desire to hear his own pleasure, feel him inside you, filling you- with a gasp, you let your hands move to his own hips, scrambling for purchase, searching for the fastening upon his belt.

And he, reaching that spot that makes your toes curl; with a whine, you pant out a swear, cheeks heating at the wry grin that falls onto his lips.

Any sly remark dies on your husband’s tongue when your hands finally breach the waist of his trousers; his cock in your palm, achingly hard, throbbing as your hips move against his own hand. Your name is so sweet when it falls from his needing lips; with a kiss, you shush him just gently; his groan falls into you when you begin to move your palm, gathering the leak of desire from him and slicking over his length slowly.

You are close to release already when he lets out a small moan into your ear, “Let me,” He pants, “Please, let me-”

You bite your lip, keening your hips as you nod, “Gods,” You whisper, “Jace, I need you.”

He does not dare wait a moment longer; his fingers leave you before you can find your peak, but it matters not; he’s pulled himself out of his trousers, stroking himself slowly in the dim light of candle and torch.

Your heart slams upon your chest - an angelic view, your husband: Eyes lidded low in desire for you, his lips glistening with your own saliva, cheeks high with flush, the glint of jewelry and riches - a vision of grace and disgrace.

And when he brings himself to your spread thighs, pushing your skirts high enough for you both to get a glimpse of your glistening arousal; how his cock spreads your folds, breaths of need from you and your husband. “Divine,” He murmurs, hand trembling as he guides himself against you - and you, thigh trembling just the same, pulling him by hip flush against you.

And any semblance of poise or grace leaves your mind when he bends just so, spitting; a trail of saliva from his mouth and onto your joint flesh and a jolt from you at so obscene an act, fingers curling against the stone as he shakily groans.

“Jace-” You moan against the pressure of your clit with the tip of his cock; flushed, the two of you shaking in the heat of the library. And then a hand, a warm palm that presses against your panting lips, cupping around your chin.

“Hush, my love,” He murmurs between gentle nips to your neck; a rush of desire warming between your thighs, clenching around nothing as his length spreads your arousal, “You’d not wish for us to be discovered, would you?”

The groan is muffled under his warm skin as he drags over your weeping cunt - a shaky sigh from himself as he moves his hips, finding your pearl. It is near amusing, this game he tries to play; as if the thought of being found was not as riling as your own touch. A small press of your lips to his fingers - a kiss, a nip - and his hand slips away to instead pull your thighs open.

You seize your opportunity as it comes; his lips, parted, eyes churning with pure desire.

“You imply that you are afraid of those who walk your own halls?” You wonder aloud, watching the hunger in his eyes - he’s always craved such teasing as much as you. And a twist of the knife of arousal; you pout your lower lip, watching his gaze track the action darkly.

“You do not wish them to know how you enjoy your time with your wife, Prince Jacaerys?”

A breath from his lips as a hand comes to cup the back of your neck; and his cock, notching upon your entrance. His cheeks are bright red - flustered from your salacious words, from his own debauched, unprincely desire for the entire household to hear him claiming you. The ashamed, hungry look, spurring your arousal further as he presses, breaching your wanting heat with the tip of his length.

You gasp at the sensation, and he growls against your lips. “Fine,” He nearly snaps, tension of desire entwining your spines as you press together, his cock easing into you slowly, agonizingly. “-Let them hear us then, my pretty wife.”

You let out a moan when he presses into you, easing into your squeezing walls; and with a stuttered moan of his own, his face buries into your neck, muttering something in that ancient tongue of his.

And from there, you and your husband are one; he moves into you with slow, deep movements. Your legs hook around him, spine curving with the touch of him, everywhere - ecstasy through you at the deep spot he begins to hit, thrust after slow thrust.

His moans, muffled only into your skin or tresses of hair; and your own gasps, as his fingers fall to tease your clit, a slow circle that drives the simmering pleasure in your gut. The drag of him through you, rocking with your hips; and his mouth, searching for your own in the recess of each moan spilling from honeyed lips.

The noise of you; shared arousal, a lewd echo through the high vaulted walls of stone, and your nails drag over his clothed shoulders - wishing nothing more than to sink your talons into his soft, lovely skin.

His thrusts, not nearly enough to push you over the edge you feel in the distance but enough to bring you to it- with a sigh, you register the knowing lilt in his hips, how he grinds the base of him low and deep, eyes bright when you keen, smirking when he is bottomed out and you are full of your husband.

and then his hips push against you just that much more - a cry of ecstasy at the fullness, then your hands grasping him - a tease, he is.

“Jace, you-“ your voice falters, as his hand, large, has fallen to press upon your lower stomach; and a cacophony of groans as you both feel him within you, palm lightly pressing against your skin as he thrusts slowly.

Your eyes nearly fall back; your voice, cracked with pleasure. “You must stop teasing like this.” Your voice is just as regal as his can be; though he’s found some ire, perhaps an outlet you have welcomed - and he merely hums mercifully at your command.

But his hips slow their roll even more - and you press to the edge of stone to relish the deep drag of his cock through you, his thumb soothing your stomach as his cock brushes the very deepest part of you.

“You’d wish for me to cease?” He hums, the picture of innocence: lips pouty, kiss-bruised; brows knit in his pleasure, eyes thick lidded and syrupy with mounting pleasure. His hair, thick tresses of dark curls, messed by your devoted fingers.

You, in a breath of irritation, unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of such tease. You cant your hips, feeling his own hips falter at the clench of your velvet cunt around him. But your hands, falling to his chest with a gentle push; a challenge in your eyes, stern. Eyes lighting, he hums, pulling away from you - and you bite back a gasp at the feeling of him leaving you empty once more.

Your legs are weak as you slide off the ledge - he dares swat again at the round swell of your behind, coaxing a playful lift of brow to his seraphic visage.

A jut with your chin; a silent direction for him to move - and with a turn, cheeks bright red with eagerness, he heeds your prompting.

Amber eyes dart to the discarded chair beside the table, nearly hopeful - and for a moment, you consider pushing him down upon it, drinking in the sweet moans he gives you; it has indeed been too long since you felt the deep pleasure of climbing atop your husband to take what is yours. Though tonight, this is not what you want.

And so you move, then- cupping his cheeks, hands sliding up from a heaving chest; you snake yourself around him, weaving some ancient enticement on your tongue as you whisper his name, arousal slicking your quivering thighs.

Jace’s eyes blow wide when you turn in his loose grasp; a press of your plump backside to his unclothed arousal, and he groans into your ear. “Love,” his voice, deep, melodic as he follows your lead.

His hand snakes up your spine, pressing you down as he goes - and soon enough you’re guided onto the table, the cool stone pressing against your cheek, the skin of your breasts pinned against dried sheets of parchment.

Jacaerys’ eyes darken further, the meaning of your words igniting something raw within him. “Gods,” he breathes behind you, his voice low and reverent as his hands slide over your hips. “Look at you. You’re beautiful, love.”

You glance over your shoulder, catching the way his eyes drink you in, the tension in his jaw betraying just how much he holds back; though that restraint crumbles quickly as you murmur, “Do not dare to leave me waiting again, Jacaerys.” You chide; his cheeks, red and nearly bashful as he steps forward, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive need.

Hands drag your skirts up and over you once again; Cool air against the slick of your desiring, aching core. He bends, just slightly - and then a whimper from your own throat as you feel your husband’s saliva fall to your cunt once more, his breath hitting your aching need. Your head cranes and your husband takes in the sight of you; transfixed, palms grabbing the flesh of your backside as he watches saliva mingle with the juices of your arousal and the premonitions of his spend. “Dōna ābrazȳrys,” he mutters, eyes flickering then to your own - sweet wife.

You, tired of waiting, press back against him; basking in the moan that leaves his lips as his cock, tip flushed and coated from your previous union, slides once again over you.

“I love you,” His voice, breathless as he leans forward, hand guiding himself through your folds, lips pressing over the peek of skin where the tresses of your hair part; and then, as if he cannot wait a moment longer, he presses into you.

Ecstasy.

“I love you, Jace-” You keen, though your spine curves at the intrusion; A gasp from him as he slides easily into your channel, and heat. Heat, everywhere as the angle allows you to move back against him; Jace, his hand falling to lace with your own upon the stone table, the other gripping tight against the junction of your hip.

His hips, rolling into your backside as he slowly begins to pick up rhythm, lips loose as he mutters words into the sweat of your neck, interrupted only by his own shaky moans and yours.

You coil in desire; a ravenous, hungry appetite that is satiated only by the fill of his cock deep inside you; the sound of skin against skin in the library, a groan from his as you find your strength, moving with his thrusts, gasping at the deep reach of him.

The simmering grows as the roll of his hips does - and, with a press of a kiss to your spine, he leans back; your eyes roll in sheer pleasure as one palm wraps around your leg, tugging you just slightly.

A new angle, where your knee shakily props against the stone table; your toes curl as your husband’s fingers move to your pearl, pressing gentle circles upon your sensitive clit.

“I’m-” A broken moan that echoes in the library, “I’m close-” He whimpers; and you feel him, hips sloppy as he presses deep into you, grinding in the way that has your eyes roll in pleasure. His fingers do not cease- you only hum, nodding against the hair that sticks to your forehead in sweat. A fierce promise that lingers and burns, driving you towards some blinding ecstasy. Your breaths harmonize in the empty air of the library; a glint of candlelight, your shadows pressed together in a heated stone embrace. “As am I,” You admit, hoarse as your fingers fly to grip the edge of the table, his hand digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “H-harder.” You instruct; your husband groans, heeding your wish as his grip on you tightens desperately.

“I love you-” Jacaerys groans, cock pressing just into the part of you that sends you to the edge, “-fuck, ñuha gevie ābra-”

Perhaps spurred by the delicious curl of foreign language upon his tongue, or the delicious depravity of his swear - likely both - you hit your high with a trembling gasp, unable to breathe.

His hips are unruly, staggering; The angle, the reach of him as he moans your name, the clench of your cunt around him. You murmur your professed love for him as you ride through the shaking ecstasy - and chasing, sloppy thrusts as your husband soon meets his own high, your name sung on his lips.

You feel him, his seed warm within you, pressing into your womb with the slow roll of his hips; his chest presses to your spine, lips grazing the shell of your ear as you both ride out your highs, together.

As your breaths begin to steady, Jacaerys lets out a low chuckle; his forehead pressed against your back, heart slamming in his chest.

Hands, still warm from the fervor of your embrace, lazily trace patterns down your back as he moves, cock stirring within you. “Perhaps, my love,” his voice is affectionate, breathless, after few moments of silence. “we should move somewhere with less... ink.”

Brows furrowed and forehead sheened with sweat, you send him a puzzled look - with a sheepish grin, he nods to the corner of the table as he pulls out of you. A gasp in the sensation of loss that is only swallowed by the widening of your eyes; a spilled well of ink, seeping over the finished letter you’d intended to send off to the Queen this evening.

The dark liquid trails in rivulets, small tributaries of black blood, reaching towards you and your beloved as your heartbeats correct, your joint spend gathering between your thighs.

His lips press to your hot cheek - and you can’t help the sly smile that curves your lips. “Is that an invitation to retire to our chambers, then?” You hum - and his hands are gentle as he coaxes you from your previous position, unwilling to separate too far from your heat as his arms circle your waist.

Your hands slide affectionately into his curls; your thighs shake, though his lips find yours in a sweet, gentle kiss.

You pull away to right your dress with a deliberately slow, languid sweep - his lips brush just beneath your ear as you do so, his desperation regaining strength so soon after you’ve finished; a flutter in your stomach at the feeling of his grin against your neck. “-It is, my lovely wife.” He affirms, humming, “I believe there is a bath drawn and waiting, if you’d care to accompany me.”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly; his hands are gentle, smoothing over your hips as he pulls back, amused himself: “No?” He wonders, eyes alight with love. You smile affectionately, shaking your head, “You’d like that far too much, wouldn’t you?" You tease.

Jacaerys lets out a low laugh, his eyes glimmering and playful as he traces lazy patterns along your waist. “I admit, I would... but merely because I know you would too,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your jawline.

Your smile is bitten; a new hunger, insatiable as you take in the dark beauty of your sweet husband. The tenderness in his gaze has always been too much to resist. “I suppose a bath wouldn’t be so terrible,” you concede with a smirk, “Provided you behave yourself, of course.”

His grin widens as his lips brush over your temple, taking your hand in his tenderly, guiding you towards the staircase.

“I find it remarkable you imply that I am the one who must behave.” You let out a small laugh; in the echo of your footfalls upon the stone, Jace leans in close enough that his breath tickles your skin. “I have to make up for lost time,” an intimate whisper as you near the doors at the top of the stairs, “And tonight, I am yours - and yours alone.”

Your cheeks do not calm their flush in the path back to the royal apartments; neither do your husband’s.

ñuha gevie ābra - my beautiful woman.

taglist & my loves: @chloe-petrichors @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @softspiderling @jottositto @dipperscavern @earth4angels @benjinotes @divinesolas @hxtd @housetargaryenloyalist @bucksplum @v3lary0ns @princessvelaryon @princessbellecerise @vee-mage @useralba @bitchydragonparadisee @elaena-aerrin @mckennah123 @xxselenite @smurfelle @alyssa-dayne @uhnanix @house-celtigar @astrxq

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon smut #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace smut #jacaerys smut #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #hotd x reader #hotd smut

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

Note

hi!! loved the threesome with lando max and charles. can u finish it and show what the aftercare/morning after would've looked like? i know u said u ran out of space lol. thank u!!

okay I've gone with the morning after

No but like why do i want to turn this into a series?

The first part

lando was the first one awake

he saw the girl sleeping against him, and Max and Charles all over each other, and the events of the night before came back to him

It was slightly unbelievable that it was real

He laid there for a good minute

smirking

he tightened his arms around her, and she stirred slightly

He hadn't much thought about what the aftermath of the night before would be

But if this got out, it would be a media shitstorm

He didn't release her from his hold

Max was the next one to wake up

He pulled himself away from Charles and stood up, his blinks slow and confused as he looked around the room

The room wasn't somewhere he recognised

he looked around, looked down at Charles, down her Y/N and looked at Lando, the only other person awake in the room

He rushed over, crouched at Lando's side (bc he couldn't get up, not with her sleeping against his chest)

"We didn't," he whispered, looking at the two sleeping beside them

Lando nodded his head

Max pinched the bridge of his nose

But then he looked at her, at the way she was sleeping against Lando

She looked so fucking cute

And then, without the feeling of Max against him, Charles scooted his body across the bed and threw his arms over her, sleeping against her

Lando carefully moved her off of him

she rolled against charles as lando and max left the room

"I can't believe we did that," max hissed as they left the bedroom

he looked around her living room, the memories of the night before coming back

"do you regret it?" Lando asked as he searched through her kitchen cupboards for a glass

Max shook his head

he couldn't regret it

back in the bedroom, she woke up

with charles holding her she woke up warm

cosy

happy

they'd been on her mind for the entire night

as soon as she closed her eyes she was dreaming of them

she kind of couldn't believe that they were really there when she woke up

"hey," charles muttered, his eyes closed, face against the pillow

"Hi," she responded, playing with his fingers against her stomach. "Do you guys want some breakfast?" she asked, but she and charles were the only ones in the room

the two got up

she pulled a robe over her body and charles pulled on his pants from the night before

"morning," she said to lando and max as she and charles walked out of the room

they echoed that, lando wearing a smile as he watched her and charles walk into the room

"do you guys want breakfast?"

"oh, you're the best," lando said as she pulled a pan from her cupboard

she grabbed things from her fridge

as she made them food, they constantly asked if they could help, but she waved them off, making them breakfast and placing it down in front of them

they wanted to talk about the night before, but nobody knew where to start

so, lando took the leap

"Would you guys want to do this again?" he asked

the other three hesitated before answering

max wanted to

she wanted to

charles wanted to

lando wanted to

but none of them knew what the others were thinking

what if one of them said no?

this time, max took the leap

"I'd do it again," he said before turning his attention back to his breakfast

slowly, the others nodded

"great," she said and pulled her phone from the pocket of her robe. "Gimme your numbers, we're making a groupchat"

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prythianpages · 6 months

Text

Sprinkles | Azriel x Witch Reader

summary: you and your daughter return back from visiting your family in the Middle with an unexpected surprise.

warnings: fluff; mentions of a scorpion (yes, there's a spider in the pic above but I could not stomach using a scorpion picture since I find them so creepy lol)

a/n: This is a little imagine for my Dandelions series since I miss Az & witch reader. If you'd like to read as a stand alone imagine, all you have to know is that reader is a witch and is an established relationship with Az and they have a daughter.

You’re still not back.

Azriel knows he shouldn’t worry. When he had asked Rhysand to reach out to you, you had let him know that you and your daughter would not make it in time for dinner but that all was well. Knowing that, that wouldn’t be enough for him, you had also flooded him with reassurance and love through the bond. Visiting your family has become more frequent since Melaina’s birth.

Azriel had chosen to stay behind this time.

The memory of the last visit lingered—your mother pestering him for a lock of his hair, her intentions veiled behind a wicked gleam in her eye. You hadn't voiced her reasons, but the instant glare you shot her with conveyed enough. Despite over a decade together, tension still simmered between Azriel and your mother. Her overbearing and overprotective nature remained unchanged, and Azriel couldn't bring himself to blame her.

Regret begins to crawl in, his shadows slithering along his limbs, as he realizes that perhaps, he should’ve accompanied you both. He glances at Rhysand lounging on the couch opposite, contemplating asking him to check on you once more. Rhysand's lips quirk up, meeting Azriel's gaze. Even Feyre shoots him an amused glance.

But before Azriel can even ask them to check up on you, there’s a round of three familiar knocks echoing through the river house. He’s rising to his feet in a heartbeat, feeling the warmth of your nearby presence pouring through the bond. When he opens the door, he’s greeted by the green glow of your magic as both you and your daughter appear in front of him, standing hand in hand.

His shadows reach out, tentatively brushing against your skin, as if searching for injuries, even though they expect none. It’s just a habit now. Meanwhile, the ones that darted toward Melaina dance around her own shadows, the tendrils greeting each other with familiarity, akin to old friends.

“Please, don’t be mad,” you say to him and the smile doesn’t falter on his face. Not when you wrap your arms around his neck and soften the oncoming blow with a kiss. He could never be mad at you, he thinks, as he’s blissfully overwhelmed by you.

“I could never,” he voices in a murmur as he pulls away. To which you only respond with a smile that radiates pure mischief. Your hand finds his and he lets you guide him back toward the sitting room, where Melaina had quietly headed to.

“Whatcha got there, Azriel jr?” Cassian asks with a grin, curious to see what your daughter is holding so dear to her chest.

"Uncle Cas, I got a pet!" Melaina chirps, a bounce in her step as she approaches Cassian, her wings fluttering behind her. Azriel feels a sweet ache in his chest, mirrored by your gentle squeeze of his hand.

"Oh! Let me see!" Cassian's twins and Nyx rush toward her in excitement, eager to catch a glimpse of her new pet. Azriel casts a side glance toward you, noticing the way you bite your lip.

Suddenly, a shriek pierces the air, drawing Azriel's attention sharply toward his daughter and Cassian. “Mother’s tits, what the fuck is that thing?” Cassian exclaims, eyes widening in horror while Rhysand throws his head back in laughter.

“Language!” You hiss at Cassian with a glare.

Azriel blinks in surprise, torn between amusement and concern at the sight of one of the strongest Illyrian warriors cowering behind his sons and the giant scorpion cradled like a baby in his daughter’s arms. It’s as big as a small pup, for Cauldron’s sake.

“You got our daughter a pet scorpion?” He asks, turning back to you.

“I couldn’t bring myself to say no to her,” you reply sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes with that soft look in your eyes that has him melting. He senses Melaina must’ve given you that same look earlier. “My mother placed an enlargement spell over the scorpion so we wouldn’t lose sight of it.”

"Lovely," Azriel says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but a grin tugs at his lips. He looks back at Melaina, who is beaming as she sets her "pet" down, eliciting another cry from Cassian and laughter from the others. Oh, he’s going to enjoy every second of this.

Nesta rolls her eyes, rising from her seat to kneel down and run a curious finger down the scorpion's back. Her sons join her, seemingly braver than their father. Feyre giggles and Rhysand shakes his head with an amused gleam in his eyes. Yet, he sinks further into the cushions of the couch, wanting to keep a safe distance from the scorpion. Mor tucks her legs beneath her, sharing the sentiment, and taking a large swig of her wine. Amren remains unfazed.

Nyx turns to his parents, blue eyes bright. “Can I have a pet too?” he asks in a pleading tone and Azriel swears the blood drains from Rhysand’s face, violet eyes flickering between his son and the scorpion. Feyre’s giggles come to an abrupt halt.

“Yes but maybe something cu—“ Feyre stops herself at the pointed look you send. “Something smaller,” she says instead with a sheepish smile and there’s a subtle sigh of relief escaping from Rhysand’s lips.

“Me too!”

Cassian’s twins, Cardan and Calian, say in unison, looking toward their father with pouts on their lips. “Ask your mother.”

Nesta’s eyes burn into him. “Of course you can,” she replies and the boys squeal in delight. Her lips curve into a wicked smirk as she rises to her feet and makes her way back to her mate. “Perhaps, y/n can take us to the same shop she got Mel’s at.”

“Oh, yes! There was just the cutest snake, longing for a good home.” You grin as Cassian shakes his head no. “The color of it’s shimmering scales matches the exact shade of Cas’s siphons. I think it’s meant to be!"

“Perfect!"

“Does your pet have a name, girl?” Amren asks your daughter.

“His name is Sprinkles!” Melaina chirps, clasping her hands together when the scorpion’s claws pinch at nothing. Her shadows echo her joy, pulsing as they snake down her legs and wrap around Sprinkle’s pointed tail. “Isn’t he just adorable?”

“Absolutely!” You are quick to reply, despite Cassian’s protests in the background.

You beam down at your daughter the way same Melaina beams down at Sprinkle. Azriel just knows you genuinely mean it. The depth of your admiration for all life is one he enjoys watching but even more so, when all life admires you back. It’s as if every creature, every living being can sense your light. Sprinkles seems drawn to it too, slowly crawling over to you and brushing its stinger against your leg in what appears to be an affectionate gesture. Your grin widens.

For a moment, Azriel wonders how your spider and the scorpion will get along, but as his daughter’s giggle reaches his ear, he pushes the thought aside. He'll deal with that later. For now, he simply basks in the joy of his mate and daughter with a fond smile on his own face.

Because as long as his girls are happy, he’s happy... even if his own skin crawls at the sight of your daughter’s new pet.

a/n: I picture Mel as a softer version of Wednesday Addams 🖤 So I couldn't help myself with this one. Hope you all enjoyed it!

I still want to write an imagine for when reader and Az find out they're expecting Mel but am waiting for the inspo to hit me for that one so if you have any suggestions, I'm all for them 👀 I also have this thought of Mel developing a crush on Eris's son when she's older, which totally makes Az freak out lol.

tagging: @fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

if you asked to be tagged in this series and I didn't tag you, please let me know! I've lost track of some tag requests 😅

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #azriel x witch!reader #az!dandelions

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brunchable · 15 days

Text

The Stakeout: Day 4 || Steve Rogers x Agent!FReader.

Day Three | Five Words: 6.2K Themes: Unspoken feelings towards each other. Growing tension. Sexual Attraction. Smut. Being stuck with each other. Warning: SMUT. Oral (M-receiving) Swallowing, Steve is your pony lol, Sex by the window, Sex while on the phone, a bit of cumplay, big dick energy and of course, unprotected piv sex. Sneaky peak: “Alright, fine!” you blurted out, your voice trembling. “It's because of you! Are you happy? I don’t want another second around you!” The words burst out of you before you could stop them, driven by the overwhelming pressure of the moment. As soon as they left your mouth, you felt a wave of regret wash over you, but it was too late to take them back.

Steve’s reaction was immediate. He scoffed, a bitter, disbelieving sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“So that’s it, huh?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, his eyes flashing with something dark, and it made your stomach twist. “I’m the reason you want to run away from all this? I’m the one you can’t stand to be around?” His words were sharp, each one landing like a blow, and you felt yourself shrinking under the weight of his anger. A/N: Angry Steve is hot, can we all agree on that? Listen I tried me best *side-eye*

Tags: @lafrone @moviegurl2002 @haruvalentine4321 @blankmoniker

The morning light was just beginning to filter into the room when you woke up, feeling surprisingly rested despite the late night. You stretched out, the events of the previous day slowly coming back to you. As you sat up, you noticed Steve across the room, standing near the window with his phone pressed to his ear.

His voice was low, serious—too serious. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but in the quiet of the morning, his words carried clearly through the room.

“I know, it’s complicated, but… I just can’t do this right now. It’s not the time to get involved, especially not with someone like her,” Steve said, his tone heavy with something you couldn’t quite place—regret? Frustration?

You froze. Someone like her. He had to be talking about you. There was no one else it could be. The intimacy of the day before, the way you had almost crossed that line, had left you feeling vulnerable, exposed. And now, hearing him speak like that, it felt like he was dismissing everything that had happened between you.

Steve turned slightly, his back still to you, oblivious to the fact that you were awake and listening. “No, I don’t regret it, but… it’s just not possible. Not with her. It would only complicate things, and we can’t afford that.”

Your stomach dropped, a hollow feeling settling in your chest. Not with her.

You bit your lip, sitting up slowly and hugging your knees to your chest. You had known this could be complicated, that there were a thousand reasons why getting involved with Steve was a bad idea. But you had let yourself hope—just for a moment—that maybe there could be something more. That he might feel the same way.

And then you remembered.

Steve had said he was interested in someone. He hadn’t said who, but he had made it clear there was someone on his mind. You had assumed—foolishly, it seemed—that he had been talking about you. But now, with the cold, hard truth of his words echoing in your mind, you realized how wrong you had been.

You couldn’t bear to listen anymore. You quickly laid back down, turning away from him, your heart pounding in your chest. As you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the tears that threatened to spill, you couldn’t help but replay his words in your head. He didn’t regret it, but he didn’t want it either. Didn’t want you.

It wasn’t long before you heard Steve hang up the phone, his footsteps soft as he moved around the room. You forced yourself to stay still, feigning sleep, not ready to face him. Not when you felt this raw, this hurt. The silence stretched on, heavy with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. How could you, when it was clear that Steve didn’t see you the way you saw him?

STEVE’S POV

After finishing the call, I placed the phone on the table, rubbing the back of my neck as I tried to shake off the lingering tension. The conversation had been about the mission—about the high-priority target and the need to stay focused. But as I turned to look at Y/N, still asleep in the bed, something in the back of my mind nagged at me.

I moved quietly, not wanting to wake her just yet. She needed the rest, especially after staying up so late. But as I came closer, I noticed something off—the way she was lying, stiff and too still, as if she was awake but pretending not to be.

“Y/N?” I called softly, but there was no response.

I frowned, stepping back, unsure of what to do. I didn’t want to push her, so I let it go, deciding to give her some space. But as I moved into the bathroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I just didn’t know what it was.

I’d made up my mind last night, after watching her sleep so peacefully, that once this mission was over, I’d tell her how I felt. I’d let her know that what we had, what was growing between us, was real and worth fighting for. But now… now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe she didn’t feel the same. Maybe I was the only one struggling with these feelings, the only one hoping for something more.

As I finished getting ready, I resolved to talk to her, to clear the air. We needed to be on the same page, especially with everything that was at stake. But as I stepped out of the bathroom and saw her sitting there, her back straight and her expression unreadable, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

Something had changed, and I had no idea how to fix it.

× × × ×

Your POV

You sat up, running a hand through your hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the lingering hurt. The mission—that was what mattered. You needed to focus, to push everything else aside, no matter how much it hurt.

“Any updates from Fury?” you asked, your voice brisk, all business. You didn’t wait for a response before you continued, “Should we make a move? We’ve been waiting for too long; we need to act before we lose our window.”

Steve hesitated, clearly caught off guard by your sudden shift in demeanor. “No new updates yet,” he replied, his tone cautious. “We need to stay patient. We don’t want to move too soon and tip them off.”

There was a pause, and you could feel Steve’s eyes on you, searching for something—anything—that would explain the sudden coldness in your voice. But you kept your expression neutral, refusing to give him an inch.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice softer now, “is everything okay?”

You stiffened, the question hitting too close to the mark. But you forced yourself to stay calm, to keep your tone even as you replied, “I’m fine, Steve. Just focused on the mission, that’s all.”

The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like an hour. You moved restlessly around the room, checking and rechecking the equipment, running through the mission plan in your head, anything to keep yourself busy.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. The waiting was driving you insane. You needed to do something, to move, to take action.

“We can’t just sit here forever,” you said, your voice tight with frustration. “We need to make a move. We’ve been sitting on our hands for too long.”

Steve looked up from his spot by the window, his brow furrowed in concern. “Why are you rushing this, Y/N?”

The question hit you like a brick, making you pause mid-stride. You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive posture.

“I’m not rushing anything,” you shot back, but even you could hear the edge in your voice. “I just don’t want to miss our chance. We’ve been waiting for hours, and nothing is happening.”

Steve didn’t take his eyes off you, his gaze steady and probing. “There’s more to this than just the mission,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “What’s really going on?”

Your jaw clenched. The last thing you wanted was for him to know how much his words, his actions—or lack thereof—had affected you. You needed to keep the focus on the mission, not on the confusing swirl of emotions that had been threatening to overwhelm you since that morning.

“I’m just trying to do my job,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral, though it was clear that Steve wasn’t buying it.

He stood up, closing the distance between you with a few strides, his presence filling the space. “I know you’re frustrated, but rushing into this isn’t going to help. We need to be smart about this, Y/N. You know that.”

You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to lash out, to tell him that it wasn’t just the mission that had you on edge. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let him see how vulnerable you felt, how hurt you were by what you had overheard.

“I just want this to be fucking over,” you finally admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You meant it in the broadest sense possible. You wanted the mission to be done, to escape this confined space where everything between you and Steve seemed to be unraveling. But as soon as the words left your mouth, you saw a flicker of something in Steve’s eyes—something that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

Steve’s expression shifted, his brows furrowing as if he had been struck by a sudden realization. The silence that followed was heavy, almost unbearable, and you knew at that moment that he had taken your words in a way you hadn’t intended.

“You just want this to be over?” Steve repeated, his head jerking to the side. He took a step closer, his gaze narrowing as if he were trying to pierce through your defenses, to uncover the truth behind your frustration.

You hadn’t meant it like that—not really—but now you could see that Steve had taken your words personally. Your pulse quickened, your breath catching as he closed the distance between you. The air seemed to grow thicker, charged with an energy that was both unsettling and impossible to ignore. You opened your mouth to explain, to backpedal, but the words seemed stuck, your thoughts tangled up in the storm of emotions you were trying so hard to suppress.

“Steve, I—” you began, but your voice wavered, trembling under the weight of the unspoken tension that had been building between you for days. You could see the flash of impatience in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched, and it sent a wave of unease crashing through you.

“Y/N,” he interrupted, his voice low, almost a growl, “if there’s something you need to say, then say it.”

He took another step closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming, his broad frame towering over you in a way that made your heart race. His eyes bore into yours, intense and unyielding, daring you to speak.

“You need to tell me now, because I am done with this charade. Do not think for a moment that I haven’t noticed how you’ve been pulling away, or how you’ve been trying to escape.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry as you tried to find the words, but the intensity of his gaze, the way he was looking at you as if he were demanding the truth you had been hiding, made it impossible to think straight.

“I’m not playing games,” you managed to say, your voice smaller than you intended, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You hated how weak you sounded, how vulnerable, but the way Steve was staring at you left you feeling exposed, like he could see right through you.

His eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as he leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from him. He was so close now, you could see every fleck of color in his eyes and every tense line on his face. “Then what is it, Y/N? What do you want? Because if you’re trying to back out, if you’re not in this—”

“I didn't mean it like that!” you snapped, your voice coming out sharper than you intended, driven by a sudden surge of defensiveness. The frustration that had been building inside you finally spilled over, and you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Then what?” he demanded, his voice harsh, cutting through the air like a knife. “What is it? Why do you want this over and done with? Because you've never acted like this before.”

“Alright, fine!” you blurted out, your voice trembling. “It's because of you! Are you happy? I don’t want another second around you!” The words slipped out before you could stop them, pushed by the intensity of the moment. Regret hit you instantly, but it was too late to take them back.

Steve’s reaction was immediate. He scoffed, a bitter, disbelieving sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Wow.” he said, licking his bottom lip, his tone dripping with sarcasm and pointing to himself,“I’m the reason you want to run away from all this? I’m the one you can’t stand to be around?” His words were sharp, each one landing like a blow, and you felt yourself shrinking under his anger.

You opened your mouth to respond, to explain, but the frustration bubbling inside of you made it impossible to think clearly.

Instead of staying in the moment, you rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath, “Oh my god,” you turned away from him, trying to walk off and escape the heated conversation.

But before you could take more than a step, He grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not painful, and spun you back around to face him. The force of it knocked the breath out of you, and suddenly you were back standing mere inches away from him.

"Look. At. Me." His voice was a deep, gritty command, laced with a dangerous edge that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes burned with intensity, pulling you in, the fire behind them making your heart race. "I'm not done talking.”

You swallowed thickly and kept a brave face like him not spinning you around like that didn’t startle you.

“You think I don’t know what this is doing to you? What it’s doing to me? You think I don’t feel it too?” His voice lowered, a dangerous growl that made your breath hitch. “You have no fucking idea, do you?”

“No idea how much you get under my skin. How every time I look at you, I’m torn between wanting to push you away and wanting to keep you close—so close it drives me mad.” He continued, his words coming out in a harsh whisper.

Your heart lurched in your chest, your breath catching as his words sank in. The intensity in his gaze, the raw emotion in his voice. You wanted to run, to escape the onslaught of feelings that his words stirred up inside you, but you couldn’t move. You were rooted to the spot by his grip, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

“You think you’re the only one suffering here? You think you’re the only one who wants this to be over? Y/N, you are the very thing that consumes me, every waking moment, every breath I take. You are the reason I can’t sleep, the reason I can’t think straight.” He paused, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “You are the reason I am constantly at war with myself. You’re the reason I can’t focus on anything but you, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your throat felt so tight, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest.

Steve’s gaze bore into yours, his jaw clenched, his hands fisted at his side as if he were holding himself back from something and letting go of your arm. “You want this to be over? Fine. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you off that easily. We still have a job to do, and whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me.”

Your eyes briefly flicked to his lips, barely noticeable, but when you looked back up, you caught him doing the same. The air between you sizzled, desire flaring to life after simmering for so long. The tension tightened, drawing you closer until it felt like there was no space left to breathe.

Steve's eyes stayed locked on yours, his breath quick and uneven. You could see the struggle in him, torn between restraint and desire, mirroring your own. Everything else faded—the mission, the arguments, the frustrations—until it was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something you couldn't undo.

Your heart raced, breath shallow, as you met his gaze, the unspoken question lingering between you. There was no turning back, no escaping the pull drawing you closer.

You grab each other, your bodies colliding, the space between you disappearing in an instant as his lips crashed down onto yours with a force that took your breath away. His kiss was frantic, desperate, filled with all the pent-up emotion that had been building between you for so long. And he’s kissing you, kissing each other, desperate and grasping and wild.

He tasted like something dark and heady— like strong coffee—the drag of his mouth across yours makes you drunk. Steve lifts you like you're weightless and his fingers curl around your thighs, palms sliding. He moves his hips between your legs, pinning you against the window with his pelvis, rubbing against you, making you wet and throbbing.

Somebody once told you a slow-burning fire is the hottest—and it must be true. Because you and Steve are a fucking inferno.

Both his hands yanks at the collar of your shirt tearing it clean in the middle, his lips never leaving your mouth. His fingers easily unclasp your bra and pull the fabric down, exposing your breast, and his mouth devours you. He suckles and licks urgently, opening his mouth wider to envelop nearly your whole breast. It’s as if he wants to taste every inch of your skin all at once. Then he’s back to your mouth, kissing you long and deep and wet, until you're shaking in his arms.

“I’ll give it to you sweet, Y/N.” He breathes hard, pulling your gym leggings down hastily along with your underwear. “I swear I’ll make it so fucking sweet you’ll ache . . . but right now I just . . . I need . . .”

Your hips rotate and you're rubbing yourself up and down on the rock-hard length of his cock beneath his pants.

Your head thrashes. “I know. I know, Steve. Just take . . . please.”

You need him inside, now. Pressing into you—surging deep. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, grasping at the starched cotton of his shirt. His scent, his raw groans, the firm grasp of his large hands, the searing touch of his tongue—everything about Steve is powerful, commanding, and intensely masculine.

He moves one hand from your leg and you feel him tearing at his pants, the scratch of his belt against your thigh as he frees himself. You glanced down and—

Oh my god.

Your desires clash—because you want to see him, see everything. You want to hold him in your hand, stroke and hear him moan. But that yearning evaporates when you feel the touch of hot, silken flesh against you. You feel the girth of his cock against your soft opening. You’re slick and slippery for him, but he’s so big he has to push through your tight muscles. You lift your knees, stretching your joints to open for him. You hiss when it felt like he wouldn’t fit and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t hurt and that was just his tip.

He moves forward slowly, steady and unyielding. And then Steve is sliding inside you. More, more, impossibly long. There’s a dull pinch as you stretch around him, until all of him is buried within you—deep and full.

You feel so full. Complete. You squeeze your muscles tight, clench your pussy hard, just to feel more of him deep inside. His arms are contracted tight under your hands, his breath brushes against your lips, his forehead rests against yours.

“Y/N,” he whispers, and no word has ever sounded sweeter. “Y/N . . . Y/N . . .”

You kiss him roughly, your tongue invades his mouth, caressing, licking, searching inside—trying to kiss the pain of your walls being stretched away.

Steve’s hips pull back and his cock retreats just a little, then he slides back in and you gasped, Steve moaning, greedy for the friction. He pulls back again, farther, withholding more—then thrusts back in, harder. Needier. And the rhythm starts. Over and over—it’s the wet slide of his cock, your clasping squeeze, and the deep, harsh push back in. This. Always this. It’s more than you dreamed, better than you fantasized.

His cock is hard and full and perfect, and you want to live the rest of your life with Steve’s hard cock buried deep inside you. Pounding against you. Ramming inside you. Fucking you, needing you, loving you. His hips circle between your legs, twisting as he thrusts, dragging his pelvis across your clit. And the pressure, the tension, builds between your legs.

“Don’t stop! Oh God, more . . . more . . . fuck . . .” You bite his neck, his earlobe—not gently. Because it’s so good. Because if you don’t, you'll scream the goddamn apartment down.

You feel his big hand covers your breast, squeezing greedily and the snap of his hips between your legs. It’s wild and untamed and raw. You both move, grinding against each other without thought. You hold his face in your hands, kiss his open mouth and inhale the air he expels.

“Come inside me, Steve.” Your plea tears a moan out of him, low and long against your shoulder. And he thrusts so hard, your head jerks back.

“Come inside me.” You slide your hands through his hair, down his spine, under his shirt, caressing his skin, clinging to him. “I want to feel it, feel you.” And then you chanted, “Please . . . please . . . please . . . please.”

You're right there, right on the edge—you tilt your hips, reaching for it, pleasure coiling inside you, waiting to explode. “Please . . . please . . . Steve . . .”

You sob his name and your head tilts back against the glass of the window as stars burst behind your eyelids. Your legs lock around him and you squeeze everywhere, coming and coming . . . Steve thrusts one last time and groans against your skin.

You feel the pulse of his cock, the hot rush of his fluid and it makes you come even harder. What seems like minutes later, after the grip of your orgasm settles into loose-limbed intoxication, Steve lifts his head and guides your lips to his. And his kiss is tender and soft this time.

His knuckles brush your cheeks, caressing like you're fragile. Made of glass. Gently, he slips out of you and lowers your legs to the floor. You lean against Steve, on knees of jelly. Without a word, you unbutton his shirt and tug it from his shoulders, because you want to see him. You want to enjoy every inch of this beautiful body.

It’s there in the smile that plays at his lips and his heavy-lidded, amused expression. Once you free him from his clothes, he lowers to his knees. Then kisses between your breasts, his lips trailing down your stomach, flashing a sexy grin, he stands, scoops you up and carries you to the bed.

His mouth presses against yours, and his tongue begs for entrance. But when Steve tries to roll both of you over so he's on top, you have other ideas. You push him on the shoulders until he's on his back. Then you move your mouth over his jaw and down his neck, burning a trail down his chest and stomach.

Steve swallows hard.

You take his cock in your hand and pump slowly, and it's already stiff as steel.

“Jesus, Y/N…” Steve keeps his eyes open, and watches from above as you wet your lips, open your mouth, and slide him in. “Fuck…”

You take his entire length in deep and sucks hard as you pull back slowly. Then you do it again. You pump him with your hand while increasing the suction at the tip with your hot little mouth. You swirl your tongue around the head like you're licking a lollipop.

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” Steve moans helplessly and grips the sheet on the mattress. You take him all the way down your throat once, then twice. Then you switch to fast, short pumps with your mouth and hand.

Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you, he finds it magnificent. He's been blown by the best of them. And he swears to God, you have the technique of a freaking porn star.

And then you put your hands under him—on his ass—urging him upward. You guide his hips back and forth, pushing him in and out of your mouth. You remove your hand, but his hips continue to move in short shallow jabs.

“Y/N… I’m…if you don’t move now…Fuck, I’m gonna…” Coherent words are apparently beyond his ability at the moment. Still, you got the idea.

You don't move away. You don't stop. Steve looks down at the very moment you open your eyes and look up. And that’s all it takes. It’s the moment he's fantasized about since being here. Those big brown doe eyes staring up at him as his cock slides between your perfect lips.

You repeated this process a couple times before Steve laid his hand on your head, your head bobbing up and down, as you felt his body tensing, his cock swelling. You ran your hands up his torso, feeling his body shaking as he held your head. You loved the feel of his hands on your head, controlling her, holding her in place, using her till he was done with you.

With groans of your name, he fills your mouth with a pulsing stream, his body shuddering. You moan and take it all in, swallowing greedily until his cock stops twitching in your mouth.

Steve’s cock spring out of your mouth still rock-hard despite coming for the second time. You crawl up to him, almost feline like before kneeling over his torso while your hand remains stroking his cock.

“Just feeling your eyes on me makes me so wet.” You bite your lips as you guide his cock into your entrance. You can't help but moan as you sink on it until he hits the end. He feels so good inside of you.

Your ass was firmly in Steve’s hands, urging you to move on him, not up and down but back and forth, the way he likes it, making sure your clit ground against the flat muscle about his cock every time you moved.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He murmurs sitting up to hold you close as you both rocked, “So fucking gorgeous.”

It was harder to control your moans because his cock hits your g-spot every time he is all the way inside you. Then the satellite phone starts buzzing, “Ignore it,” Steve groaned quietly against your neck.

You can’t believe Steve just told you to ignore it, “It’s got to be Fury.”

Steve thrusts his cock against you urgently, kneading your breasts in his hands to return your focus to him. You moaned, throwing your head back as you tried to match his pace.

The phone buzzed again.

"For fuck sake, pass it to me." Steve grumbled, his thrusts not missing a single rhythm. You reached for the phone and passed it to him. Steve frowned, but continued to hold your hips, rocking your back and forth over his cock.

"Rogers, you didn’t send the report last night." Fury said on the phone.

Steve tilted his head to one side as you’re being awfully quiet and found your engorged clit and stroked it, circling and stroking gently in sync with your hips grinding on him, making you let out a squeak, “Give me a few hours, I’ll send it ASAP.”

"What was that?"

Steve smirked as he pressed harder and increased the speed and intensity of his stoking of your clit, “What was what?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold in the moan that was building with each lap of his fingers around your clit, causing you to rock over him, harder and wilder. Your body began to rebel at the sheer intensity by pulling away to escape, but his strong arms and rough hands held you and only worked harder to create them. You jerked and struggled in vain as the feelings grew and grew, desperate to push his hand away and yet needing this to continue to drive you off the cliff you so desperately wanted.

“Hmm—”

“That.” Fury semi-yelled into the phone.

“Fu—” Steve’s breath heavily, his mouth opening silently with pleasure, “Don’t…know what you’re talking about.”

“Hm. Well Listen I need something for show-and-tell alright? Send it ASAP” Fury demanded.

“On it. Ugh—Listen, I gotta go!” Steve ended the call without waiting for a reply and tossed the phone onto the floor.

“A few hours?” You asked him, panting, wanting to clarify what he meant by that.

“Why? You got a problem with that?” Steve kissed you with renewed passion and began kissing your face and neck with hundreds of little kisses. Then he rolled over so that you were underneath him while he was between your legs with his still hard cock deep inside your pussy. "Keep your eyes open and on mine. I want to see every moment of pleasure reflected in your eyes."

Steve began to move his hips thrusting his cock against your cervix and then began full slow deep thrusts. You felt like Steve was turning your pussy inside out as your lips clung to Steve’s cock everytime he withdrew all the way to his tip . He hooked your legs in his elbows and spread you wide—basically folding you in half like a piece of paper.

“Fuck, you feel good. You are so damn good, so wet for me.” He pulled out and thrust in quickly. Your pussy sucked at him, trying to keep him inside.

“Mhm, only for you, Daddy.” You licked the skin under his ear and whispered like it's a dirty secret.

Steve pauses, his cock jerking inside you at the nickname, “Daddy? Fuck, I knew you were freaky.”

There was no way he was going long in this position. Later, there would be time to fuck you for hours, to make you come over and over again until you begged him to finish it, maybe after this stakeout. Steve angled his body down, forcing you to take more of his weight. It felt right to be inside of you, as though some odd piece of himself had just fallen into place.

“You like that, huh, you like ‘Daddy's’ cock inside you? Is that what you've been wanting?”

You bite down your lip as you hear Steve’s lusty grunts near your ear promise to set you on fire for certain. “Yes. . .and I need you to come again, deep inside me.”

Steve begins to hold nothing back. He was savage in his need. He began pounding into you, slamming his big hard dick inside your pussy, his balls slapping your ass.

“Oh my—fuck! Steve! Ow—” You screamed as he kept hitting the end of you and it hurt, but he didn’t stop. You couldn’t do anything but dig your nails on his biceps as the knot at the pit of your stomach intensified.

Steve looked down, and you knew what he was doing. He was watching his dick plunder your pussy, all those abs flexing. He was watching as he fucked what he felt belonged to him.

“This is what you wanted right? Now take it.” He grunted when he felt the shiver at the base of his spine that told him he was about to go off like a rocket, he let go of one of your legs so he could rub your clit. He ran his thumb over that sensitive bit of flesh and watched as your eyes got wide and your mouth opened to emit a soft cry as the little muscles of your pussy suddenly bore down on his cock.

"YES-S-S!" You hissed with a shriek, your walls tightening more around his cock's shaft, in that way firmly gripping and holding him inside your body. Your body tried to writhe and wiggle but Steve’s weight on you prevented that causing your body to shake uncontrollable instead. His power flowed over you, filled you.

“Oh. . . fuck,” Steve cried a lewd groan and let his head fall back. Pure pleasure coursed through him, making his whole body shake. He drove into you again and again until he had nothing left to give you. He fell on top of you, not holding off a bit of his weight because you'd agreed to take all of him. He nuzzles your neck and breathes in your scent. He loved the softness of your skin rubbing against his. Your arms wound around him, and your fingers found his hair.

After catching his breath, he got up again. Cautiously, he began to pull out of you. You were shocked to feel how wet you were, how copiously he’d come. The final few inches of his cock slid out in a rush and semen slicked your inner thighs. A moment later, two audacious droplets trickled down your opening between your spread legs.

“Oh, shit.” He groaned. “That’s so damn hot. I’m getting hard again.”

You stared at the brazen display of his virility and felt warm. “You can’t possibly go again after that.”

“Hell if I can’t.” Cupping your pussy in his hand, he rubbed the slickness all over you, coating the outer lips and massaging it into the folds. Euphoria spread through you like the warmth of fine wine, a sense of contentment that came solely from the knowledge that Steve found pleasure in you and your body. Your hips began to move in tiny circles as his words and touch reignited the desire he’d goaded with the thrusts of his cock.

You propped yourself up on your elbow giving him a light peck on the lips, “You got work to do, Captain.”

A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, looking at you with intent, “Hell yeah I do.”

You opened your mouth to protest and he sealed his lips over your, shutting you up with a lush wet kiss.

× × × ×

As you lay there in Steve’s arms, the warmth of his body against yours making you feel safe and cherished, your mind wandered back to the moment earlier when you overheard him on the phone. The words had haunted you, twisting in your mind, making you doubt everything. But now, wrapped up in the comfort of his embrace, you felt a need to clear the air, to address the misunderstanding that had nearly driven a wedge between you.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to break the peace of the moment, but the nagging thought wouldn’t go away. Finally, you took a deep breath and decided to speak up.

“Steve,” you began, your voice soft, almost hesitant. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with those warm, reassuring eyes. “What is it?”

You bit your lip, feeling a little foolish now, but you pressed on. “This morning… when you were on the phone. I overheard what you said.”

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, letting you continue.

“You said something about not being able to get involved, especially not with someone like ‘her’… I thought you were talking about me. That you didn’t want me.”

For a moment, Steve just stared at you, and then, to your surprise, a broad grin spread across his face, followed by a deep, rumbling laugh that filled the room.

You blinked, caught off guard by his reaction. “Why are you laughing?”

Steve shook his head, still chuckling as he pulled you closer. “Oh, Y/N… you thought I was talking about you?”

You nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief washing over you.

“God, no,” Steve said, his laughter finally subsiding as he looked at you with affection. “I was talking to Fury about the mission. He was warning me about getting distracted, especially with someone high-profile on our radar. He was talking about the target, not you.”

Realization dawned on you, and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Oh… I guess I jumped to conclusions.”

Steve’s eyes softened as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “You did, but I can understand why. We’ve been under so much pressure, and things have been… complicated between us.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, feeling the tension finally start to melt away. “I just—when I heard that, I thought maybe you didn’t want this, didn’t want me.”

Steve’s expression grew serious, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Y/N, listen to me. I want you more than anything. This… what we have, it means everything to me. I don’t ever want you to doubt that.”

You felt a wave of warmth and relief wash over you, your heart swelling with emotion. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Steve shook his head, smiling softly. “No need to apologize. I’m just glad we’re on the same page now.”

He leaned down and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that reassured you of everything he’d just said. When he pulled back, there was a lightness in his eyes, a playful glint that made you smile.

“So,” he said, still grinning, “you thought I was talking about you, huh? Thought I didn’t want you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh now, the absurdity of your misunderstanding finally hitting you. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Steve chuckled again, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re stuck with me, Y/N. There’s no getting rid of me.”

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hgfictionwriter · 6 months

Text

Ache

Jessie Fleming x reader

Summary: Sometimes love isn't enough. Despite how much you and Jessie love each other, life gets in the way.

A/N / Warning: Angst. And no smut. Yet lol.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you rounded the corner to your apartment. Your eyes were trained on the concrete below as you dug in your pocket for your keys. The evening wind was brisk and sharp against your skin. When you lifted your gaze, the figure before you froze you in your tracks and your chest tightened immediately, breath catching in your throat.

"Jessie?"

She'd been staring at the ground and her head snapped up as she was broken from her thoughts. She shot up from where she'd been sitting on the ledge of the garden outside your building. Her eyes were wide as she looked to you and though she opened her mouth to speak, the words were lost on the tip of her tongue.

It'd been weeks since you'd talked and so much longer since she'd been to your apartment. You swallowed and internally cursed at how, even after all this time, just the sight of Jessie made your eyes prickle with the start of tears.

"Again?" She'd asked. Her voice was tired as it came through the phone and you cast your gaze down at the disappointment that bled through.

"I'm sorry. I tried to get someone else to go, but I own the account, so-"

"I know, I get it," she cut you off. There was no malice in her voice, but it wasn't any less sad. "I know you have to go."

"I'll be back on the 6th. My flight doesn't get in until after dinner, but you can come over," you told her, trying to sound positive.

"I leave for camp at 4 the next morning." Again, her words were simple and they weren't accusatory, but the heaviness between you was loud. You stopped trying to hide.

"We've only seen each other once this month," you stated.

"I know," she said quietly.

Silence began to fill your conversation.

"So, what do we do?" You finally asked. Your chest already ached knowing what the answer was. This feeling, this moment, had been creeping in for months. You'd done what you could to keep it at bay, but its inevitable arrival was here.

A few seconds later she responded.

"I don't think things are going to change any time soon." Her voice was soft, mixed with regret and acceptance. "And it shouldn't. We're both doing what we should be doing. I can't slow down - I have to make the most of my career while I can. It's the same for you."

"I know," you agreed as tears began to well in your eyes. "I'm so proud of you, you know." You added with a small laugh that didn't fully veil the way your voice choked up. "And I never want to hold you back."

"I'm proud of you, too," she echoed, her own voice growing thick with emotion. "And same - I'd never want to hold you back either."

"I really love you," you continued and your voice cracked under the strain. "I hope you've felt that."

"I have." She sniffled. "I love you, too, and I hope you've never had to doubt that."

You bit down on your lip, looking up to the ceiling as tears began to fall down your cheeks.

"I guess this is it,” you said more than asked as your voice wavered.

Another sniffle came through the phone. "I think so." Her voice was taut. "I still want to be friends," she added in a rush, her voice shaking, "but this isn't working. I can't give you what you need, and..."

"I can't give you what you need," you finished for her.

"Yeah," she admitted quietly. "I've never wanted someone the way I want you. I love you so much-" her voice was breaking "-I miss you all the time. And even when we're together, it breaks my heart because I know we have to leave again soon."

"It hurts to be together and apart. I know the feeling," you relayed sadly. "I wish it wasn't this way. I can't imagine loving anyone more."

"I don't want to ask you to wait. And I know you won't ask me to wait for you because neither of us wants to make promises we can't keep."

"Jessie." Her name came out in a strangled whimper and you heard her cry.

"I can't imagine not loving you. But, if you meet someone who makes you happy and gives you what you need...," she trailed off.

"I understand. And I wish the same for you," you said even though it felt like a dagger through your heart.

Silence infiltrated your conversation once more before a laugh escaped you, though it came out more like a sob.

"I did not expect this call to go this way."

Jessie gave a watery laugh of her own. "Me neither." A pause. "I guess it's been coming though."

"I know," you relented. "I just didn't want it to be true."

After a few moments, Jessie spoke again.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, too, Jessie. Always."

You said you'd be friends, but it was all at once too easy and too difficult. As was the problem, it wasn't that often you got to see each other or talk, but when you did, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be with her. So when she stood too close, held your gaze for too long, or when you'd hug at the end of the night and hold onto one another too tightly and for too long, it tore you apart.

That had gone on for nearly a year, and it hadn't gotten any easier. You fell back into old habits just too easily.

The last time you saw each other, at a mutual friend’s birthday, she’d come over to say “hi”. Innocent enough until something as simple as showing her something on your phone turned into you two sitting so close together your legs touched. As you talked, if you turned your head too much to the side your lips would’ve grazed her cheek. Did she mean for her hand to brush against yours?

The only way to move on was to cut yourself off completely. She'd understood and she even apologized for making things difficult, but it wasn't just her, it was you too.

Now, here she was sitting outside of your apartment, shivering and cold, looking to you and struggling to find her words.

"What are you doing here?" You finally asked. "Shouldn't you be with the team?"

"You saw?" She asked, looking so innocent and you cursed the rush of affection that rose in you.

"Win the Shield? Of course I did." You had to laugh. A smile finally broke out across her freckled face and that still too familiar pink tinge grew darker across her cheeks. You relented some. "You were great. No surprise."

Jessie began to fidget, her hands jostling in her jacket pockets and she shuffled idly from foot to foot. She scratched the back of her neck as she went back to studying the pavement. This time she managed to speak though.

"I-I'm sorry to show up out of the blue. I just - we were all celebrating, and of course I was happy, but, I-I don't know." She huffed in frustration. “I’ve been sitting here thinking and planning what I was going to say and now…”

"It's okay, Jess," you told her gently, understanding that this was not her norm and something was clearly going on. She looked up at you and gave a couple of grateful nods. She studied you for a few seconds and it pained you that even during that time you were getting lost in her eyes.

"I know you said you don't want to see me - that being around each other and talking was making it too hard to move on." She paused, though her eyes didn't leave yours. You saw her steel herself and she straightened up as she continued. "But I don't want to move on. And, to be honest, I've known it deep down for a while now.

"Today - every game, really - I found myself looking out into the crowd too many times searching for you. And when we were leaving, everyone's all stoked to go out and party, but I just wanted to be with you - anywhere with you. I wanted to share this with you. So, even after a year of me trying to tell myself that we made the right decision, I know we - or at least I - was dead wrong. Because I miss you. So much.” Her voice wavered and her eyes glistened. “It's not just this that I want to share with you - it's every day, little moments and the big. I don’t care if it has to be through text or a call most of the time. It just has to be you.”

"Jessie." You breathed her name out, trying desperately to process everything she was telling you. She took a step towards you, shoulders set and determined and she carried on.

"I love you. From the beginning and I never stopped. I know you're trying to move on, but this is me taking a chance and telling you how I feel. I don't want you to move on - I want to be the person you come home to, the person you call, with you through the good and the bad. I know our schedules are still a problem, but I'd rather have one evening with you than a year without."

Your breath hitched as her proclamations grew. You saw her clench and unclench her fists nervously before she continued.

“And even if one day you’d decide we could be friends again,” she trailed off momentarily, gaze shifting away before settling on you once again resolutely, “honestly, I don’t want to be friends. You’re right - we can’t be friends. I can’t be next to you and pretend I don’t want to hold you, I don’t want to kiss you. Or talk with you and not tell you that I love you and you mean the world to me. And,” she took a steadying breath, “I’m really hoping that you feel the same.”

Jessie fidgeted a bit, some of her doubt and insecurity creeping back in. Still, she looked at you with hopeful eyes.

"So, will you have me?"

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt

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hyuckiefluff · 1 year

Text

drunk in you | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers word count: 1.9k ish warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, suggestive language, reader is down bad for mark (aren’t we all), implications of drunk sex summary: was Mark Lee’s new haircut really the drop that would tip the glass over and make you spill how you really feel about him?… Well, the haircut and also the alcohol. author's note: i’m backk!! srry for disappearing for *checks calendar* two months lol this has been sitting in my drafts since mark cut his hair aaand i wanted to post it for his bday so let’s pretend im not 3 days late! HAPPY BDAY MARKIEEE <33 it’s a bit short cuz i felt like i’d have to make a second part if i wanted to add smut to yknow fully get into it lol idk but consider this a little teaser and if it doesn’t flop I’ll post a second part :)

part 2

A sudden burst of bright light pierced through your closed eyelids, jolting you awake from the deep sleep you were in. As you gradually became aware of your surroundings, you couldn't ignore the soreness in your muscles and the strange stickiness between your legs. However, it was the foreign hand resting right on top of your ass that sent alarm bells ringing through your mind. Your eyes shot open, and regret instantly washed over you as a pulsating pain hammered at your head.

"What the fuck..." you groaned, attempting to focus your blurry vision and make sense of the situation. Upon looking around, you realized that you were in the guys' dorm, more specifically, in Mark's room...

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

If you were in Mark's room, then that hand... and the body it belonged to, had to be...

Oh my god, what happened last night?

8 hours earlier…

Drinking with your friends after a grueling week at uni wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. In fact, it'd be weirder if you were cooped up at home worrying about midterm grades instead of laughing your head off at whatever Jeno just blurted out. First sign that you were drunk, the boy wasn’t even that funny. His neck and ears were flushed crimson, a clear sign that he, too, had indulged in one too many drinks. And there was Jisung, practically glued to Jeno's side, oozing a whole lot of gooey affection that he would vehemently deny once he sobered up.

Renjun and Haechan were locked in a heated argument on the floor, their voices rising in the air over some trivial matter that would probably be forgotten by morning. Surprisingly, though, they seemed to be the least intoxicated among you.

Meanwhile, Jaemin was frantically rummaging through the kitchen, his frustrated groans and curses echoing throughout the room. It was clear that his search for more alcohol was proving to be a fruitless endeavor.

Beside you, Chenle was on his phone, engrossed in a replay of the Warriors game. At first glance he doesn’t look drunk, but you knew better. If he were truly sober, he'd be shouting and cursing at his phone screen, venting his frustrations as his beloved team struggled to keep up. Instead, he was lazily sipping from his nearly empty cup while his glossed over eyes remained glued to the screen.

Mark Lee was the only one missing from the group. You sent him a few voice messages letting him know that if he didn’t arrive in the next 10 minutes you would eat his portion of the kimchi jiggae you’d ordered earlier. He responded within seconds with a funny GIF that showed a man running and tripping.

Mark stumbled through the door just a few minutes later. He was soaked from head to toe, his hoodie covering most of his head. He was panting and his shoes were muddy and wet, he got rid of them in the entrance and looked up, clearly out of breath. But you were already stuffing your face with his food anyways. Whoops.

Though as soon as he pulled down the hood a chunk of food went down the wrong pipe. You coughed uncontrollably, your chest heaving as you desperately tried to regain your breath.

"Dude!! Are you seriously eating my food?" he exclaimed.

But when he noticed your struggling state, his words trailed off, replaced by genuine worry. "Yo, are you good?" he asked, walking closer to you and patting you in the back.

You managed to nod weakly, staring up at him.

"Why’re you so late? Oh, new haircut?" Haechan chimed in from the floor.

"Yeah... what's the verdict?" Mark asked, turning his head to the side to better show off the lines of his undercut, his gaze lingering on you.

So many thoughts raced through your mind but you were unable to form a single word. Mark had had long hair for quite some time now, and it was you who had encouraged him to let it grow. You enjoyed styling it, braiding it, and adorning it with charms—Mark gave you the freedom to do whatever you pleased with his hair. You had grown fond of his long hair, especially after helping nurse it back to health from the damage caused by bleaching and dyeing. Yet now he was sporting short hair and an undercut with edgy designs on the side, and you couldn't help but openly ogle at him.

He looked hot as fuck.

It’s true that you harbored feelings for Mark that went beyond friendship but you were always able to hide it well and it worked out better this way for both of you (or that’s what you liked to believe). Needless to say you liked him a lot and had for a while so the sight of his new look had sent your emotions spiraling. He showed up merely minutes ago and you already felt so weak at the knees and your brain was fuzzy even though you hadn’t drank that much yet.

"Don't like it," you muttered, hoping your words would deflect attention from the clear shift in your expression. Turning around, you sought refuge on the couch next to Chenle, placing the bowl of food aside. Your stomach was turning weirdly, making it impossible to swallow another bite.

You scolded yourself inwardly for being so dramatic. It was just a haircut. But, god, he looked so good.

In an attempt to calm yourself down, you chugged your cup with soju and let out a big groan after emptying it. The sound catching Chenle’s attention as he peered curiously from his phone. You offered him a closed-lip smile, prompting an intrigued eyebrow raise from him.

Mark was awkwardly standing on the same spot. He was a bit taken aback by your sudden coldness. He definitely picked up on your strange reaction the moment he walked through the door. But he brushed it off.

"Okaay… Well I was late 'cause I was getting the good stuff," Mark explained, his frown replaced by a grin as he pulled out a beer from the bags he was carrying.

"Let's goooo!" Jaemin yelled, returning from the kitchen right on cue as if he some sort of alcohol detector. He eagerly snatched the bags from Mark and made a kissy face to the boy.

The tension eased a bit with Jaemin's infectious enthusiasm, and you decided to not focus on whatever Mark was making you feel right now. The drinks were here, and the good times were about to roll. You made a mental note to sort out your feelings later.

Alcohol definitely did not make your situation better. The more you drank the harder it was to keep your thoughts at bay. Mark was now sitting on the single couch in front of you and every little expression or movement he made had you either biting your lip or pressing your thighs together.

Talking about thighs… the shorts he was wearing displayed his muscular legs in a way that was making it quite impossible for you to not devour them with your eyes. God, your brain had turned into that of a hormonal teenage boy. Were you seriously staring at his thighs and imagining how it would feel to ride them?

Haechan came over to you and filled your glass with more Soju. You downed it as soon as he was done pouring it, earning you a weird look from Chenle who had been eyeing you ever since Mark arrived.

"Okay, what's with you?" Chenle mumbled, the words escaping his lips just loudly enough to capture everyone's attention. Considering you had the noisiest group of friends, all eyes turned your way, including Mark's.

Mark seemed to be getting tipsy; you could tell by the way his big, expressive eyes shimmered even more than usual and the faint blush that adorned his cheeks and neck.

"Hmm?" you managed to reply, your gaze still fixated somewhere on Mark's face. You were completely unaware of the intense amount of attention you were giving him, but Chenle, who was relatively more sober than both of you, picked up on it.

"You're literally looking at Mark like you want to eat him," Chenle chuckled, teasingly calling you out.

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Renjun asked, suddenly intrigued by the topic.

"I am?" you replied, sounding genuinely confused, though your heart raced with thoughts you were about to voice out loud. "Uhm… yeah I kinda do..."

An audible gasp followed, and you knew without looking that it came from Haechan.

Mark's expression remained unreadable, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, revealing no discernible emotions. Was he weirded out? Normally, you might have felt self-conscious about blurting out something like that, but alcohol had significantly lowered your inhibitions.

"That's a wild thing to say," Haechan interjected with a mix of shock and amusement. "Do you actually wanna tap that?" He pointed at Mark, who was still gazing at you.

"Very much so," you replied nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather, even though you were openly talking about hooking up with your best friend in front of all your other best friends.

"Why don't you come here then?" Mark's words caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but notice the way he shifted, his legs spread invitingly.

You burst into laughter assuming he was only joking to tease you. However, the lack of a reaction from him made you realize he was dead serious. Your eyes locked on his own, reflecting the same desire you had been giving him just moments ago.

The idea of getting up and walking to him, straddling his lap, and kissing him flashed through your mind.

But the moment was interrupted by a voice that snapped both of you out of your trance. "Gross!" Jisung whined, hiding his face in Jeno's back, the older one lazily laughing and patting Jisung's thigh. "Okay, c'mon, I think we've all had enough to drink," he declared, getting up, with Jisung clinging to him. Chenle follow suit also giving you two a slightly disgusted stare.

"Yeah, one more drink for me, and I'm afraid the kimchi jiggae I had earlier might end up all over the carpet," Haechan chimed in, rubbing his stomach before disappearing upstairs.

Renjun also stood up and playfully messed up Mark's hair while saying, "By the way, happy birthday."

You glanced at the table clock and realized it was already 12:01. You had been so excited about Mark's birthday earlier in the day, but the alcohol and the tension between the two of you made you totally forget about it. Gathering your courage, you approached him. He remained sprawled with his legs out, but now he looked up at you, his lips slightly wet, distracting you momentarily.

"Happy birthday, silly," you smiled and awkwardly patted his head, hoping he didn't notice how you pressed your thighs together, trying to ease the uncomfortable ache between your legs.

"What did you get me?" he suddenly asked, and you blinked a few times, your brain struggling to register the extremely flirtatious tone he used.

When you didn't respond immediately, he continued, "Because I can think of one thing I want the most right now," lightly grazing your leg with his hand. You didn't flinch or move away.

"R-really? What is it?" you found yourself stuttering, a reaction that would have made you cringe if you were more sober.

"Come here, and I'll show you," he smirked and with little protest from you, he pulled you onto his lap.

a/n: i have a smut scene ready for this (well it’s in my brain but I’ll squeeze it out if u guys want that second part) soooo comment or simply like this so i know the audience wants it

also yes i did change the title of this but pls disregard that lol

part 2

#nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream fic #nct dream scenario #nct imagines #nct smut #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee x y/n #nct moodboard #mark lee x you #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream drabbles #mark lee imagines #mark lee fic

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hyperactively-me · 1 year

Text

black tie affair

He slowly comes up behind you, hands stretched out in front of him, wordless. He grasps your waist firmly, holding you in place as his other hand brushes up against your lower back. You shiver under his touch, body still, unmoving. He was so close. So close.

"oh nooooo the zipper on my dress is stuck, what ever will i do? who would ever help meee?"

zipper is stuck trope. with ghost. lol bye.

also, don’t mind me making stuff up for this fic. don't think too hard about it. let's just pretend!

(asks are open)

happy reading

EDIT: PART 2 OUT NOW

warnings: none

Tonight was the Special Forces Military Ball. It was a once-a-year event that everyone on the task force looked forward to as an opportunity to unwind from work. A night of speeches, dancing, and drinking was highly awaited.

You were in a hotel room, finishing applying your makeup in the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. The lighting was horrendous, but you persevered. You gently brush on the last touches of your eyeshadow, blinking a few times at your reflection in the mirror. You tilt your face side to side, inspecting every inch of your makeup before pulling back, smiling contentedly at your work. It’s been a while since you last wore this much makeup. A quick sigh escapes your lips as you turn out of the bathroom and into the main room.

A long, black dress lays across the hotel bed. The dress swishes gently across the floor as you pick it up from the bed and hold it up in front of you in front of the floor length mirror. The sweetheart neckline swoops gracefully, the thick straps of the dress adorned with small silver gems. The skirt of the dress hugs all of your curves in the right places, accentuating your features.

You start to slip on the dress, pulling it up and around your body, then pulling the sleeves over to rest on your shoulders. Reaching around your back, your hands come up as you fumble around with the zipper, only pulling it up an inch before it stops.

You try pulling it as hard as you can to no avail. Messing with the zipper a few more times does absolutely nothing, the continuous motion of pulling it up and down useless in aiding you. The zipper rests, stuck, on your lower back.

“Fuck” you groan, annoyed with the stubborn zipper.

You angle your back towards the mirror and stare at it, mostly bare, with a frown. Someone was going to have to help you with this.

Everyone, with the exception of one person, was busy preparing for the event as you racked your brain about who you could call.

Simon “Ghost” Riley.

The big guy.

You grab your phone and scroll through your contacts before your finger lands on his name. You hesitate for a moment, almost already regretting this. Next thing you know, you bring the phone up to your ear, biting your lip as it rings. The phone rings once, twice, then you hear the line pick up.

“Hello?” the low timbre of his voice echoes from the phone.

You inhale dramatically, and turn to look at yourself in the mirror.

“Hi,” you sigh.

The silence from the other end is overbearing. You grimace a little.

You speak quickly, “So uh, I need some help.” You hold your breath as you wait for a response, any response from him.

You hear some shuffling around, and a small cough. You roll your eyes once more.

“Please,” you strain.

He hesitates for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“This is awkward, but uh, the zipper on my dress is stuck, and you’re the only person I could think of to call and I totally get it if you can’t help me–”

“Which room is yours?” he cuts you off briskly. The shuffling in the background abruptly stopped.

Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, shaking your head as you try to answer.

“Oh, yeah, it’s room 456, fourth floor…” you trail off.

He hangs up without a word. You bring the phone away from your ear slowly and stare at yourself in the mirror once more.

He really is a man of few words.

You pace the room a few times, waiting for him when a single, brief knock raps your door. You stop in your tracks and turn to the door, then run to the mirror to make sure you look presentable enough. You look through the peekhole just to make sure its Ghost before you pull open the door swiftly.

You’re met with his chest in your face, and you drag your eyes upward to his face. His covered face. In that skull mask he always wears. He’s wearing a black tuxedo along with a crooked black tie.

“Hi” he says simply, raking his eyes down your form.

You immediately grab his bicep and pull him into the room and shut the door behind you, pressing your exposed back to the door. He chuckles quietly at you, raising his eyebrows in amusement under his mask.

“Thank you so much for coming” you breathe out, wringing your hands together.

He just stares at you for a moment longer, taking in your appearance unabashedly. He shoves his hands in his pocket and clears his throat.

“Wow. You look amazing” he whistles.

Your cheeks heat up, your mouth slightly agape as the air leaves your lungs.

“Thank you.”

Your dress swishes around your feet as you push yourself off the door, brushing past him. “I could say the same for you, Simon.”

Turning around, you brush a piece of stray hair behind your ear, taking a deep breath. He takes a few heavy steps towards you, his silence overbearing.

“If you could zip me up, that would be great” you smile gently at him, biting your bottom lip awkwardly. You turn around, your exposed back facing Ghost, and you pull your hair over your shoulder. His breath wavers, eyes roaming the expanse of your back, then finally coming to rest on the small of your back. He slowly comes up behind you, hands stretched out in front of him, wordless. He grasps your waist firmly, holding you in place as his other hand brushes up against your lower back. You shiver under his touch, body still, unmoving. He was so close. So close. His free hand closes around the zipper, hesitant to free it.

“Ghost–”

“It’s Simon. Simon, when we’re not on job,” he corrects. You stand up straight.

“Simon. Are you going to zip me up?”

He grunts quietly, then pulls at the zipper once, twice, before it's finally freed. You can feel heat radiating from his fingers as he pulls the zipper up agonizingly slow. As he pulls it up your back, his fingers brush against your skin, the small touches making your knees weak. Your cheeks feel hot from his languid movements. You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he zipped it up to the top.

The trance you were in abruptly stops as you hear the small click of the zipper hitting the top. You swiftly turn around, the skirt of your dress bustling around as you take a step back, his hand falling from your hip.

“Well, thank you Gh– Simon” you say, pushing your hair back to its original place. You rock back on your heels as you inspect his covered face.

His eyes look blown wide, his hands now pulling at the bottom of his tux jacket.

“‘s not a problem” he murmurs, eyes still not looking away from you. His hands wander up to his loosened tie, fidgeting with it.

You notice his tie isn’t properly tied, and you take a few steps close to him, your eyes staring straight at his chest.

“Let me help you with that” you point to his tie. You take his hands in yours and gently pull them to his sides. His hands dwarf your own, and you drop them. His breath hitches.

You wrestle with the tie, your hands brushing up against his chest and collarbone as you twist it into perfection. You keep your eyes trained on the tie, biting your lip as you concentrate. Simon’s eyes remain locked on you, following your every movement.

The silence permeates the air, save for the rustling of fabric against fabric.

You finish tying the knot, and pull it up tight to rest against the base of his throat. He stretches his neck upwards as your hands come to fasten the tie in place. You smooth your hands on the edge of his jacket, straightening out any remaining wrinkles. Your head tilts upwards, smiling softly at him.

“There” you sigh contentedly, patting his cheek gently before pulling away.

Before you could fully remove yourself, his hand snakes down to your waist, pulling you up against his body. A small squeak slips out of you as his hands rigidly hold your waist.

“Simon–”

“Stop talking.”

Before you could even process his movements, he yanks his mask over his nose. Your breath catches in your lungs as your eyes trail the features of his lower face. His breath is hot on your face as he leans down, closer and closer. “Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, eyelashes fluttering as he stares at your lips, noses bumping into each other. He’s only an inch or two away from your face, and you can see every lineament of his skin, his cheekbones, the tip of his pointed nose, his lips. He smells like sandalwood and vetiver, the scent peppery and strong.

You nod your head fervently, heart racing in your chest.

“Please.”

That’s all he had to hear you say.

Simon leans in, closing the miniscule gap between you two. He leans down to press a firm kiss on your lips, inhaling sharply at the contact, eliciting a soft sound from you. Your hands wrap around his neck, tugging him down to your height as his hands roam up and down your back. Simon draws your body against his, pulling you flush against him. He begins to nip your bottom lip, tongue swiping over your lip as if to ask permission. You let him take charge, his hand gliding up your body, your breath growing ragged.

He bites your lip, slowly pulling away as he breaks contact. You gulp in the cool air of the room, studying his face as he slowly pulls his mask down in place. Your ears are red, face flushed.

“You’re beautiful,” his voice comes out hoarse as he takes your hand in his. He rubs his thumb in circles around your palm, outlining your face.

“Thank you” you whisper, taking his hand into your own.

You gingerly pull him out of your room, and don’t let go of his hand for the rest of the night.

PART 2

#*ੈ✩ simon “ghost” riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod #call of duty reader insert #call of duty #ghost #simon “ghost” riley #fluff #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost imagine #hyperactivelyme

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bloodreinasbathwater · 3 months

Text

It's Always Been You

Part 5

Jack Hughes X F!Reader (Childhood Best friend)

a.n: Don't beat me up guys. I know this damn chapter took forever but fr I didn't know where to take this chapter, I was going to start with a flashback, so it wasn't boring but even that was boring. so after the long-awaited hiatus here is the next chapter!!!

Warnings: anxiety, kissing, eventual smut (part 6), arguments, unrequited love, ignore the mentions of summer I was to lazy to remove them lol.

Word Count - 4,163

Summary : When do you finally accept that it's time to move on? When do you finally admit that everything you fought so hard to forget is exactly what you're meant to remember for the rest of your life? How long can he pretend that it hasn't always been you?

Jacks masterlist

The Michigan sun streamed through the gauzy curtains of the guest room, the faint light of the morning sun illuminated her features, showcasing her furrowed brow and pensive eyes as she stirred awake.

For a blissful moment, she forgot where she was—and why her heart felt so heavy. Then reality crashed over her like a wave, and she remembered: Jack's family home, the ill-fated confession, and the potential love that she left back in Jersey.

Y/N sat up, running her fingers through her tangled hair, which was tousled from sleep. The distant laughter from downstairs was like music to her ears, a sound that she had grown to love —Jack's chuckle unmistakable even from afar. Her heart clenched. How was she supposed to act normal when every fiber of her being ached to be near him?

Her eyes darted towards her phone, resting on the soft sheets next to her. The glowing screen illuminated a new message and a missed call from Liam, causing her heart to flutter with anticipation and guilt. Ignoring it, she tossed the phone aside and decided to get up and get dressed.

She dressed slowly, each movement deliberate as she tried to delay the inevitable. The soft cotton of her favorite t-shirt offered little comfort as she pulled it over her head. It smelled faintly of home, of simpler times when loving Jack from afar seemed enough.

Hesitantly, Y/N made her way down the worn staircase, each creak of the wood echoing in her ears. Her heart raced as she prepared to face him, unsure of what the outcome would be. The aroma of coffee and bacon guided her to the kitchen, where Jack stood at the stove, spatula in hand.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he greeted, his voice carrying a hint of playful teasing. "Thought you might sleep through the whole trip," he added, his tone lighthearted yet genuine. He flashed that crooked smile that never failed to make her knees weak.

Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it sounded genuine. "And miss out on your world-famous pancakes? Never."

She slid onto a stool at the kitchen island, acutely aware of the distance between them—both physical and emotional. Jack moved around the kitchen with easy grace, and Y/N found herself tracking his every movement. The flex of his forearms as he flipped a pancake, the way his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders when he reached for a plate.

"Earth to Y/N," Jack's voice cut through her reverie. She blinked and looked up to see him staring at her with a mixture of amusement and concern, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She realized with a start that he must have asked her a question while she was lost in her own world.

"Sorry, what?" she mumbled, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

"I asked if you wanted blueberries in your pancakes. You okay? You seem a million miles away."

If only he knew how present she was—how every cell in her body seemed attuned to his presence. "I'm fine," she lied smoothly. "Just a little tired. And yes to blueberries, please."

As Jack turned back to the stove, Y/N caught a flicker of something in his eyes. Was it longing? Regret? Or just her imagination playing cruel tricks? She pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the plate he set before her.

They ate in companionable silence, but Y/N was hyperaware of every accidental brush of their hands, every shared glance. The pancakes tasted like sawdust in her mouth as she struggled to maintain the facade of normalcy.

"So," Jack said, breaking the silence, "we were thinking of taking the boat out today. Weather's perfect for it, just a little chilly."

Y/N's stomach dropped. The thought of being trapped on a small boat with Jack, pretending everything was fine, seemed unbearable. "Oh, um, actually..." she started, scrambling for an excuse.

Jack's smile was encouraging, but Y/N could see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes at her hesitant response. Just then, Luke appeared in the doorway, hair tousled from sleep.

"Morning, everyone," he said, his smile bright as he made his way to Y/N. He dropped a kiss on her cheek, and she saw Jack's jaw tighten almost imperceptibly.

"Luke," Y/N said, an idea forming. "Jack was just telling me about going out on the boat. What do you think about staying behind with me instead? I'm not really feeling up to it, and I'd love to explore the yard a bit."

She saw a flicker of something cross Jack's face before he masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "Sure, if that's what you want. Daphne and I can take my parents out."

The mention of Daphne sent a fresh wave of pain through Y/N's chest, a sharp ache that tightened her throat. Her eyes flickered with a hint of hurt before she quickly masked it.

She forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes, which darted away to avoid revealing too much. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. "Sounds great," she managed to say, her voice strained. "You guys have fun."

…

As they finished breakfast and plans were made for the day, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that she was standing on the edge of a precipice. Every interaction with Jack felt charged, laden with unspoken words and suppressed emotions.

She watched him as he cleaned up the kitchen, his movements efficient and familiar. How many mornings had they spent like this, comfortable in each other's presence? Now, every moment felt like a bittersweet reminder of what she couldn't have.

When Jack's hand accidentally brushed hers as he reached for her empty plate, Y/N felt a jolt of electricity run through her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world fell away. There was something in Jack's gaze—a softness, a question—that made her breath catch.

But then Luke's arm snaked around her waist, breaking the spell. "Ready to go for that walk?" he asked, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Y/N nodded, tearing her eyes away from Jack. As she let Luke lead her outside, she couldn't help but glance back. Jack stood in the doorway, watching them go, an unreadable expression on his face.

The air was thick with the scent of pine and possibilities as Y/N stepped onto the porch. She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head of thoughts of Jack. But even as she walked away, she could feel the invisible thread that connected them, pulling taut with every step.

The afternoon sun hung high in the cloudless Michigan sky, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in Y/N's chest. She stood on the weathered dock, watching as Jack's family bustled around, preparing for their boat outing. The gentle lapping of water against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the chaos but did little to calm her racing thoughts.

Jack emerged from the boathouse, his chestnut hair pushed back carelessly, revealing the strong angles of his face. The pale blue shirt he wore clung to his athletic frame, bringing out the cerulean depths of his eyes - eyes that seemed to seek Y/N's gaze with an intensity that made her breath catch.

She found herself drinking in the sight of him, memorizing every detail as if it might be the last time she'd see him like this: carefree, relaxed, and heartbreakingly handsome.

As Jack approached, carrying a cooler, Y/N caught a whiff of his cologne - a woodsy scent that reminded her of countless shared adventures and unspoken longings. She fought the urge to close her eyes and lose herself in the familiar aroma.

"Sure you don't want to join us?" Jack asked, his voice low and tinged with something Y/N couldn't quite place. Was it hope? Regret?

Before she could respond, a melodious laugh cut through the air. Daphne sauntered down the dock, her presence as imposing as it was graceful.

She was the epitome of old money elegance, from her designer dress to her oversized sunglasses. Her honey-blonde hair fell in big, bouncy curls reminiscent of a 1970s fashion icon, framing a face that belonged on magazine covers.

"Oh, Jack!" Daphne called out, her voice saccharine sweet. "Don't forget the picnic basket I prepared. Remember how we used to love our little sunset dinners on the lake?"

Y/N felt her stomach twist, the image of Jack and Daphne sharing romantic moments on the boat searing itself into her mind. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain her composure.

Jack's eyes flickered between Y/N and Daphne, a conflicted expression clouding his features. "Right," he muttered, "I'll grab it."

As he turned to head back to the house, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way his gaze lingered on her, a silent plea in his eyes that she couldn't decipher. The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and suppressed emotions.

Daphne, not oblivious to the tension, sidled up to Jack, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his arm. "We should recreate one of our romantic sunset cruises," she purred, loud enough for Y/N to hear. "For old times' sake."

The suggestion hung in the air like a challenge. Y/N felt a surge of emotions - jealousy, hurt, and an overwhelming desire to stake her claim. Before she could stop herself, words tumbled from her lips, sharp and biting.

"I'm sure Jack's made plenty of new memories since then," Y/N said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "No need to dwell on the past, right?"

The dock fell silent, the only sound the gentle creaking of the boat against its moorings. Jack's head snapped up, his eyes wide as they met Y/N's, there was surprise there.

Daphne's smile faltered for a moment before she recovered, tightening her grip on Jack's arm. "Of course," she replied, her tone icy. "Though some memories are worth revisiting, wouldn't you agree, Jack?"

Jack stood frozen between the two women, the conflict evident on his face. His eyes darted between Y/N and Daphne, as if he were trying to solve an impossible equation. "I, uh..." he stammered, clearly at a loss for words.

A thick atmosphere of unease hung in the air, causing Jack's family to glance curiously at Y/N as they loaded the boat. She could feel their questioning stares, as if they could see the unspoken connection between her and Jack that she was trying to ignore. It seemed like everyone knew something that they didn't, except for the two of them.

Luke appeared at Y/N's side, sliding a lanky arm around her shoulders. "Everything okay here?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Y/N leaned into him, grateful for the support even as her heart ached for Jack. "Everything's fine," she replied, forcing a smile. "Just wishing everyone a good trip."

As the two began to board the boat, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way Jack's eyes kept finding her, even as Daphne chatted animatedly at his side. There was a longing in his gaze that mirrored the ache in her own chest, a silent communication that spoke volumes.

Daphne, sensing the shift in Jack's attention, redoubled her efforts. She laughed louder, touched him more frequently, her actions screaming of desperation and possessiveness. It was clear she felt threatened, her carefully crafted plans unraveling in the face of the unspoken connection between Jack and Y/N.

As the boat pulled away from the dock, Y/N stood with Luke and his parents, watching it disappear into the distance. The sun glinted off the water, momentarily blinding her. When she blinked away the spots in her vision, she could have sworn she saw Jack standing at the back of the boat, still looking in her direction.

"You okay?" Luke asked, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice. How could she explain the tumult of emotions raging inside her? The love, the longing, the frustration, and the glimmer of hope that refused to be extinguished?

she turned to walk back to the house with Luke, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. And as much as it terrified her, a part of her welcomed it. Because pretending not to be in love with Jack was becoming harder with each passing moment.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Y/N and Luke sat on the porch swing, the gentle creaking of its chains providing a soothing rhythm to their conversation.

Despite the picturesque setting, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her stomach since the boat departed. Luke watched her, his brow furrowed with concern. He nudged her gently with his elbow. "Hey, space cadet. Where'd you go?"

Y/N blinked, forcing a smile. "Sorry, just... thinking."

"About Jack?" Luke asked, his tone free of judgment.

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. This was what she loved about Luke - his ability to read her, to understand without pushing. "Am I that obvious?"

Luke chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Only to someone who knows you as well as I do, sis."

The term of endearment brought a genuine smile to Y/N's face. Though they'd been dating for a short while, their relationship had always felt more familial than romantic. Luke was the brother she never had, a safe harbor in the storm of her feelings for Jack.

"Want to talk about it?" Luke offered, his arm coming around her shoulders in a comforting squeeze.

Y/N shook her head. "Not really. Distract me instead?"

Luke was quiet for a moment, then sat up straighter, causing Y/N to lift her head from his shoulder. "Actually," he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice, "I've got some news that might do the trick."

Y/N turned to face him, curiosity piqued by the gleam in his eye. "Oh yeah? What's up?"

Luke took a deep breath, barely containing his grin. "So, you know how I've been waiting to hear back about the draft?"

Y/N nodded, her heart beginning to race with anticipation. "Did you...?"

"I got drafted!" Luke exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide smile. "I'm moving to Jersey after the summer. I'll be playing for the same team!"

For a moment, Y/N sat in stunned silence, processing the information. Then, as the reality of Luke's words sank in, her eyes widened. "Are you serious?" she asked, her voice rising with excitement.

Luke nodded, his grin growing impossibly wider. "Dead serious. Got the call yesterday, but I wanted to tell you in person."

"Oh my god, Luke!" Y/N squealed, launching herself into his arms. The porch swing swayed dangerously with their movement, but neither of them cared. "I can't believe it! This is amazing!"

Luke laughed, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug. "Believe it, sis. Your boy's going pro!"

Y/N pulled back, holding Luke at arm's length to look at him properly. His face was alight with joy, and she felt a surge of pride and affection for him. "I'm so proud of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You've worked so hard for this."

Luke's expression softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear in a brotherly gesture. "Couldn't have done it without my number one cheerleader," he said with a wink.

Y/N punched his arm playfully. "Oh please, as if you need any more ego boosting."

They fell into comfortable laughter, the kind that comes from years of shared jokes and mutual understanding. As their mirth subsided, Y/N found herself marveling at the easy camaraderie between them. Luke had been her rock, her confidant, through all the ups and downs of her unrequited love for Jack. And now, he was embarking on this new adventure.

"So, Jersey huh?" Y/N mused, settling back into the swing. "That's not too far. I expect free tickets to all the games."

Luke grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "You got it. VIP treatment for my favorite girl."

Y/N leaned into him, feeling a mix of excitement for Luke and a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving him behind for the next couple months. "I'm going to miss you, how am I supposed to deal with Jack all alone until fall?" she admitted softly.

Luke squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, none of that. Summers gonna pass in the blink of an eye. Plus, think of all the headaches I’m gonna cause when I move in."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress her smile. "Always looking out for me, aren't you?"

"Someone's got to," Luke replied, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity. "Especially with all this Jack drama."

Y/N tensed slightly at the mention of Jack, but Luke quickly steered the conversation back to his draft news, regaling her with details of the call and his future teammates. As they talked and laughed, the sun dipping lower on the horizon, Y/N felt some of the day's tension melt away.

…

The boat glided smoothly across the lake's surface, leaving a trail of ripples in its wake. Jack sat at the stern, his eyes fixed on the shrinking shoreline where he'd last seen Y/N. The fading sunlight caught the pale blue of his shirt, making his eyes appear even more vivid than usual.

Daphne sauntered over, her hips swaying with exaggerated grace. She held two glasses of champagne, bubbles fizzing merrily against the crystal. "Here you go, Jackie," she cooed, using the pet name that had once made his heart race but now only made him cringe inwardly.

"Thanks," Jack mumbled, accepting the glass without enthusiasm.

Undeterred by his lackluster response, Daphne settled herself next to him, pressing her leg against his in a way that was clearly meant to be alluring. "Remember our first boat trip together?" she asked, her voice dripping with nostalgia. "We watched the sunset right here."

Jack shifted uncomfortably, trying to put some distance between them without being overtly rude. "Yeah, I remember," he said noncommittally.

Daphne leaned in closer, the overpowering scent of her perfume suffocating him with its sickly sweetness. "We could recreate it, you know," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "For old times' sake."

Jack felt a twinge of something - nostalgia, perhaps, or the ghost of old feelings - and for a moment, he almost considered it. Daphne was familiar, safe in a way. She represented a simpler time, before these confusing feelings for Y/N had taken root.

But as he turned to respond, his eyes caught sight of the house in the distance. Even from here, he could make out two figures on the porch - Y/N and Luke, their heads close together in conversation. The sight sent a jolt through him, clearing away any lingering thoughts of rekindling things with Daphne.

Jack shook his head, gently but firmly removing Daphne's hand from his arm. "I'm sorry, Daph," he said, his voice soft but resolute. "But that's not going to happen again."

Daphne's perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But why not? We were so good together, Jackie. We could be again."

Jack took a deep breath, surprised by the relief he felt at finally voicing what he'd been feeling. "Because... I think I have feelings for Y/N."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Jack himself seemed surprised by his admission, as if hearing it out loud had solidified something he'd only half-acknowledged to himself.

"Feelings I don't quite understand yet," he continued, more to himself than to Daphne. "But they're there, and they're real."

Daphne's expression cycled rapidly through surprise, hurt, and finally settled on a mix of resignation and irritation. She plopped down next to him with a dramatic sigh, all pretense of seduction gone. "God, Jack," she said, rolling her eyes. "I could have told you that."

Jack blinked, startled. "What? How?"

Daphne took a long sip of her champagne before answering. "The night I came to see you after your game? The way you talked about her, the look in your eyes... It was obvious to anyone paying attention."

Jack sat in stunned silence, processing this revelation. Had his feelings been that transparent? And if so, how had he missed them for so long?

As the boat continued its lazy path across the lake, Jack found his gaze drawn once again to the distant shore, to the house where Y/N waited. For the first time, he allowed himself to fully acknowledge the depth of his feelings for her, and the enormity of what that might mean.

…

Dark clouds rolled in from the horizon, their ominous rumble a stark contrast to the earlier calm. Jack guided the boat back to the dock, his knuckles white on the wheel as he fought against the choppy waters. The first drops of rain began to fall, creating tiny ripples across the lake's surface.

As they approached the dock, a crack of thunder split the air. Jack quickly secured the boat, then extended a hand to help Daphne disembark. She took it without a word, her earlier flirtatiousness replaced by a cold silence. As soon as her feet touched the wooden planks, she brushed past Jack, heading towards the house without a backward glance.

Jack stood for a moment, letting the light drizzle soak through his pale blue shirt. His eyes scanned the porch, searching for Y/N, but she was nowhere to be seen. A memory flickered in his mind - of a young Y/N, hair in pigtails, running to hide in the garden whenever she was upset.

Following an instinct he didn't quite understand, Jack made his way towards the old garden. The rain was falling harder now, plastering his hair to his forehead and blurring his vision. But he pressed on, drawn by an invisible thread.

As he rounded the corner, he saw her. Y/N stood by the fishpond, her back to him, seemingly oblivious to the rain soaking through her clothes. The sight of her, vulnerable and alone, made Jack's heart clench.

"Y/N?" he called out softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turned slowly, her eyes widening as she saw him. "Jack? What are you doing here?"

He took a step closer, raindrops clinging to his eyelashes. "I was looking for you. I thought... I thought we could talk."

Y/N shook her head, a pained expression crossing her face. "I can't, Jack. I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"This!" she exclaimed, gesturing between them. "Pretending everything's normal when it's not. I can't be around you and act like my heart isn't breaking every single time."

Jack felt as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet. "Y/N, I-"

But she cut him off, words pouring out of her like a dam bursting. "How long, Jack? How long can you pretend that it hasn't always been me? By your side, helping you through everything, loving you for who you are?"

The rain fell harder, mirroring the intensity of Y/N's emotions. Jack stood frozen, the weight of her words washing over him.

"I've been there through everything," Y/N continued, her voice cracking. "Your first game, your injuries, your breakups. I've loved you through it all, Jack. And I can't pretend anymore that it doesn't kill me to see you with someone else, to know that you don't feel the same way."

Thunder rumbled overhead, punctuating her words. Jack took a step forward, reaching out to her. "Y/N, please-"

But before he could finish, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the garden, followed immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. Y/N jumped, instinctively moving closer to Jack. For a moment, they stood there, inches apart, rain streaming down their faces. Jack could see the pain in Y/N's eyes, the vulnerability, and something in him finally clicked into place.

"You're right," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the storm.

Y/N blinked, confusion replacing the hurt in her eyes. "What?"

Jack reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. "You're right. It's always been you, Y/N. I've just been too blind to see it."

The world seemed to hold its breath as they stood there, the rain falling around them, the air electric with more than just the storm. Jack leaned in, his intention clear, but before their lips could meet, a voice called out from the house.

"Y/N? Jack? Where are you guys? It's pouring out here!"

The spell broken, Y/N and Jack stepped apart, both breathing heavily. They stared at each other, a thousand unspoken words passing between them.

"We should go in," Y/N said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. Jack nodded, unable to trust his voice. As they walked back to the house, side by side but not touching, the air between them crackled with possibility and unresolved tension.

...

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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 4 months

Text

The Dark lords nanny - upcoming fic

-(y/n) had known Tom during school, being his age and in the same house, she'd grown up with him and watched him become a dark, tall, and handsome young man. He disappeared soon after graduation and soon after the name 'Voldemort' began to echo through the wizarding world, the new dark lord.

And (y/n), a for-hire nanny/governess, gets a curious call from someone she once knew, an offer to be Voldemorts, or as she knew him-Tom Riddle's, live-in nanny for his newborn son, his heir.

she takes the job, it's good money with a nice room and free food, and the place she moves into, the dark lord's new manor, is very nice and big-she hardly interacts with him anyway, giving all her attention to young Mattheo who grows quickly and gets attached to her like super glue. so far, she has no regrets about being the Dark lord's nanny, and she's only 3 months in.

What she doesnt know however, is things between her and the dark lord-her boss-are about to change.-

yeaaah i wanna write this so bad-just gotta figure out the actual story line first, i just have little flashes/scenes in my head rn lol

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #harry potter fanfiction #fluff fic #smut fic #idk i have vibes #high key Mattheo works as his sons name cuz its like a modern version of Marvolo #esp if you pronounce it as Math-e-o

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deanscherrypie420 · 3 months

Text

𝑫𝒊𝒕𝒛𝒚 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏

A/N: Hi guys! This idea just like.. came to me. I hope you guys like it! Don't worry, I will make more Sammy fics.. Nobody has asked I just figured its been a minute lol. If you enjoy this story, feel free to follow, comment and reblog <3 All feedback is appreciated! Enjoyyy!

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Y/N, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Castiel

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Warnings: Bimbo!Demon reader (Hear me out-), Demon!Dean, holy water, supernatural stuff, devils trap, cursing, shopping spree, sexual dialogue, groping, thigh grinding, edging/orgasm denial, praise kink, smut.

Summary: After running into the Winchesters, you find yourself in a sticky situation. You didn't expect your soon-to-be shopping spree to get turned into an interrogation. Fortunately, after lots of discussion, you convince the group to let you go. Oh how Dean regrets it.

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She was looking into a diner window, using it as a mirror as she reapplied her lipgloss. She carefully patted her lips with the pad of her middle finger, her lips in a perfect "O" shape.

She heard a faint sound of men laughing and adjusted her eyes to see through the glass, now noticing the two men at the diner. She smiled and rested her finger on her bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. She blinked and her eyes went black, staring down at the two.

It was a fun trick she did when she noticed men staring, scaring them to death, only for nobody to believe them. She noticed them stare at each other, the typical startled expression overwhelming their faces.

She turned on her heel and strutted down the sidewalk, a triumphant smile forming on her face. Her eyes were back to their normal Y/E/C color. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, listening to the urgent footsteps that followed behind her.

Y/N turned and grinned, giving the men a flirty wave. "Hi, boys! Can I help you?" She questioned, finding their expressions amusing. "I don't know, Sweetheart. What the hell was that little show you put on for us?" The shorter one asked, moving cautiously towards her.

"Oh, you mean this?" She blinked again and her eyes turned dark, a cheeky smile returning to her face. She expected their shocked expressions, hell everyone got scared. What she didn't predict was the holy water that burned her face shortly after.

She hissed and stumbled back into an alley, "You're gonna ruin my makeup!" She screamed, her hands covering her face as she stepped back further.

"That's your concern? Your makeup?" The taller man questioned, raising his brows in disbelief. She nodded quickly, flicking the burning water off of her hands. "Get the hell away from me! Who even are you?" She spat at them.

"Oh, baby. We're the Winchesters. Some of the best damn hunters you'll ever meet." Her eyes widened when she felt a blade enter her shoulder, a loud whine echoing off the walls.

She gasped and looked down at her now stained tube top, the blood quickly oozing down into the white fabric. "My shirt-!" She was cut off by a hand covering her mouth, the damp fabric hurting her skin. The holy water dripped down and evaporated off of her chest. Her vision went blurry and before she knew it, she was out.

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When Y/N woke up, her head lulled forward. She went to stand up, but was restricted by ropes to a chair. She shouted out and four men entered the room.

"Who are you?" She mumbled, nodding towards the two new faces. "I'm Castiel, the Winchesters guardian angel. This is Bobby Singer. That is Dean and Sam Winchester." The man in a trench-coat explained.

She rolled her eyes, "Well duh, I know who those two are." She said as she eyed the boys. Dean quickly walked towards her, stopping at the edge of the devils trap she was enclosed in. "See this? You're stuck here until you talk." He explained.

"You're tellin' me this girl is a demon?" Bobby asked, a quick, breathy laugh leaving her before he splashed holy water on her. She hissed and cried out, her fists clenching around the wood seat.

"What the hell! What did I do!" She barked, her face scrunched up as the liquid slowly fell to the floor. Sam stood behind her, Dean now standing outside of the trap directly in front of her. She thought it was odd, but didn't have much time to think about it.

"How did you find us, and who are you?" Sam questioned, his fingers curling around the back of the chair. "Find you? I didn't find you, I ran into you by chance."

Sam opened a flask and poured water down the back of her shirt. She screamed, tears starting to pool in her eyes. "How did you find us?" Castiel repeated from the corner of the room. She glanced up at him, her pupils now shot. "I didn't find you..." She barely whispered.

"Name! What's you're name!" The older Winchester hollered, making her flinch back. She glared at him, the fear in her eyes dissolving. "My names Y/N." She answered gruffly, her brows knitted tight together.

Suddenly, Bobby splashed more water at her. She closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep quiet, but was surprised when she heard a yell. She opened her eyes wearily, noticing the steam rising from Dean's arm.

"You're a demon?" She asked, a nervous edge in her voice. It made sense. He didn't step too close to the circle and he didn't carry holy water on him.

"Pretty much, Sweetheart." He rolled his sleeves up, showing her the mark on his arm. Her eyes widened and she felt a bit uneasy. "So why are you attacking me..? We're like the same thing, right?"

"Not even close. He doesn't murder people." Sam answered, moving from behind her and now next to his brother. "I don't kill people? I guess I mean I hurt peoples feelings but I don't kill them!" She protested in a hurry, noticing the older man grabbing a book and whispering Latin under his breath.

"Stop, please! Listen to me! I don't hurt people!" She started getting overwhelmed, her eyes flickering from black to Y/E/C. She was hyperventilating and she bit down on her lip, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Stop! I said stop!"

The room went white, the men grunted as they got back up to their feet. They didn't know what she did, but she broke the devils trap along with half of everything else Bobby owned. Once they were to their feet, they all stared at her.

Y/N was on the ground breathing heavily, curled into a ball on the floor. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, reaching her hands out in front of her to steady herself. She moved to sit down on the floor, an anxious expression evident in her features. "Don't hurt me." She pleaded quietly.

Castiel crouched down in front of her and rested a hand on her knee. "Are you okay?" She nodded and sunk her teeth into the soft flesh of her lip, her eyes a bit puffy from crying.

"You guys are mean." She hiccuped, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. Sam raised his brows just like before and he nodded, "Wow. Yeah, uh, I think maybe we can believe her."

Bobby nodded and said something under his breath before stepping out of the room. Castiel followed shortly after, but the brothers stayed to chat with her.

They talked for some time, and she explained why she did what she did. Dean slid his his hand down his face, an exasperated expression following in its wake. "Holy shit, you are one dumb demon. You're aware that that can get you killed?" Sam had to hold back a laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at the floor. "I think she gets that now."

"I wanted to go shopping... You guys ruined my day." She huffed and crossed her arms, turning her face away from the boys. "Alright, Sweetheart. How about I drive you to wherever you were staying, you get cleaned up and then we take you to the mall. How does that sound?" He offered, and her eyes lit up.

"Oh my gosh! You would do that!" She stood up quickly and hugged Dean, her arms squeezing tight around his neck. He was stiff at first but eventually hugged her back, his arms gently squeezing around her waist.

Sam cleared his throat and began slowly creeping out of the room. "I'm not going. You two have fun." He stated quickly before leaving completely. Dean patted her back and she pulled away from him, pecking his cheek before strutting happily out of the room.

Jesus Christ, he thought to himself.

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When they arrived at her hotel, Dean was impressed. It was a fancy joint, tall building and nice decor. He insisted he'd wait in the car as she got ready and she agreed. He watched her prance into the hotel, her heels echoing into the car through the half opened window.

After about forty-five minutes, he heard the now familiar clack of her shoes and he turned his head. His jaw dropped. She was wearing a light pink, cropped tank top along with the shortest shorts he's ever seen. The white straps of her thong hung on her hips above her shorts, making her curves more noticeable.

Her heels matched her jewelry, white rhinestones covering the baby pink material. Her ears were decorated with pink and white-gold dangling earrings, small heart shapes above the two hanging pieces.

She slid into the passenger side door, the scent of her perfume flooding his senses. "Hi! Sorry I took so long. I couldn't decide which top I wanted, but I ended up choosing this one. Do you like it?" She asked as she moved to face him completely. Her shorts rode up the tops of her thighs impossibly higher.

Dean groaned and threw his head back into the headrest, shutting his eyes tight. "What? Do you not like it?" She pouted, her bottom lip jutting out.

"You look fucking fantastic, Sweetheart. Now let's go." He said, not daring to look at her again. She grabbed her phone from her purse and began texting away, quiet giggles erupting from her randomly.

He glanced over, his eyes skimming over her. "What's so funny?" He asked and her smile only grew. "You're gonna pay for the shopping trip, right?"

He closed his eyes and exhaled, reaching his hand over to pat her leg. "Sure thing, Princess." He muttered and she squealed in excitement. She moved her hand to cover his on her thigh, squeezing it in appreciation. "Thank you, Dean!"

"Sure thing." He kept his hand there, his thumb rubbing back and forth on the side of the soft flesh. She toyed with his fingers, pushing back his cuticles and studying his nails. "You could use a manicure." She suggested and he gave her a firm slap on the thigh before pulling his hand away.

"Keep dreamin', Sweetheart." She pouted and dragged his hand back to hers, interlacing her fingers with him. "Be nice to me!" She ordered and he scoffed. "Talk to me like that again and you'll be bent over Baby."

"Baby?" She questioned, leaning towards him a bit more. He pulled the car into park a little too fast, making her slide forward a bit. "The car, Sweetie. Anyway, we're here."

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They had been in the mall for hours, bags weighing down Dean's arms. He had at least a dozen bags on each side. The only thing she was holding was a large slushey.

Once she had finally decided she had enough, she dragged him into the car and ranted about how excited she was to give him a fashion show.

"Are you serious? I just followed your ass around that whole damn building and you expect me to watch you try all that shit on?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Sweetheart, there are like twenty bags back there. I'm not doin' it."

She frowned and glanced up at him, her bottom lip slightly pulling downwards. "Please..." He looked over at her and cursed under his breath. "Fine. Stop looking at me like that."

She giggled and leaned closer, her hands resting on his thigh. "Like what, Dean?" She batted her eyelashes, her fingers gently digging into his leg. He bit his lip and grasped her hands. He shoved her back and she giggled.

When they arrived at her hotel she led him to her room and she took a handful of the bags from him, heading into the bathroom to change. He watched her twirl around in various different dresses, outfits and- Holy fuck.

Lingerie.

She did her little strut through the hotel room, showing him all the different angles of her outfits. He tried hiding the raging boner growing in his pants, but the denim betrayed him.

She smiled when she noticed it, raising a brow. "Oh, Dean." She giggled and slowly walked towards him, the black lace cupping her breasts and pushing them up.

She leaned down and rested her hands on the bed next to him, moving to crawl into his lap. He groaned and pulled her closer, his nails imprinting her hips.

He positioned her so she was straddling his thigh. "What are you doin', Sweetheart?" He asked as she ran her fingers through his hair. "I wanna play with you." She giggled, leaning forward to kiss him.

He completed the kiss, slowly beginning to move her body back and forth, grinding her core against his leg. She whimpered into the kiss, his mouth abruptly leaving hers, moving down to trail bite marks down her neck.

She whined and her head fell back, quiet moans leaving her throat. He pushed his thigh up further and pulled her down harder, making her cry out. Her knuckles turned white from how hard she was squeezing his shoulders, so close to release.

He groaned and one of his hands moved up her back, pulling her head backwards by yanking on her hair. She gasped, clenching around nothing as she moved in rhythm with him.

"Are you close, Princess?" He whispered in her ear, nibbling on the pulse point beneath it. She nodded eagerly and he smacked her ass hard. "Words, sweet girl."

"Y-yes, I'm really- really close." She whimpered out, her thighs squeezing tightly around his. "Good girl." He praised, and she gasped, the feeling in her stomach so close to breaking.

Suddenly, he pulled her off of him, setting her down onto the bed next to him. She protested, incoherent rambles spewing out of her mouth. He shoved his thumb into her mouth, shutting her up instantly.

"Awh, Sweetheart. You look so pathetic. Go back into the bathroom and keep the show going." He told her, and she tried to argue. He just clamped her jaw closed and hushed her. "You wanted to do a fashion show, baby. You better finish it, and then maybe I'll let you cum."

She nodded and stood up, his thumb sliding out of her mouth. She stumbled over to the door and closed it behind her. He sighed in satisfaction, leaning back onto the bed.

"Such a good girl."

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A/N: I Hope you guys enjoyed! It was - also - kind of rushed. Let me know if I made any mistakes <3 Please follow and comment if you liked it :) All feedback is so appreciated! Send requests if you have anything you want me to write about <3

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storiesoflilies · 5 months

Text

school bus love (3)

synopsis: a plan of action was hatched. the only question was, did she have the guts to do it?

pairing: teen!toji fushiguro x teen!f!reader

warnings: none.

a/n: my friends are hilarious. we are all still besties to this day, despite the distance. isn’t that wonderful? @mxrgxth @asa-23 also yes, i watch food wars. i regret nothing lol xo

drabble series link // part 2 // part 4

“girl, just do it.”

“i- yeeeeeesh- no! i can’t.”

“why the hell not? it’s not a big deal.”

“it completely is!”

“adding someone on snapchat is not a big deal, bitch. just do it.”

she had been carefully been scheming away in the haven of her pile of marshmallow-soft pillows, feeling like a naughty little witch brewing all sorts of potions over a bubbling black cauldron. the plan had been simple: add more and more of her new classmates on snapchat, patiently biding her time until toji’s username inevitably popped up in quick add. and finally, after what seemed like forever, his profile was there – his little bitmoji staring at her like it knew exactly what she was up to.

she picked the sides of her nails, staring a hole into her glowing phone, yet another re-run of food wars! playing on her laptop amidst all the emotional turmoil.

“this has been quite the extensive operation,” morgoth piped up, the almost deafening background noise from his end of the line muffling his words. “don’t pussy out now.”

“exactly,” asa sighed wistfully, a rare moment of agreement, probably sick of hearing about any and all interactions she had with toji over the last two months.

she stared at his bitmoji for just a moment longer, quite certain that toji was spying on her through its overly green eyes, and hoped for a cataclysmic event that would actually be him adding her instead.

although, waiting for that would have been more torturous than taking a brave leap of faith.

her finger hovered over the ‘add’ button, trembling delicately.

something caused her breath to catch in her throat, and her fingertip edged closer.

morgoth snorted, the sudden loudness echoing through her headphones, and startling her out of her wits.

a chain reaction has begun.

the dominos were falling one by one.

and she pressed it.

she pressed the button.

a gasp, accompanied by a shriek, and she flew off the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, wondering if toji was looking at his screen with his lip curled in disgust.

“did you do it?” asa asked, clearly bemused by her antics.

“uh huh,” she squealed, her eyes still locked on her phone that had turned black.

she felt a churning sensation in her stomach, nerves setting her whole body tingling as if she was in a bath filled with electric eels, and bit the inside of her cheek.

why did crushes have to feel so damn delirious?

it was debilitating, yet so very addictive. she loved playing the game, chasing the high of a victory tantalizingly out of reach.

“and now we wait,” morgoth said, almost bored. “that was kinda anticlimactic.”

she huffed in annoyance, feeling a flare of irritation as her already frazzled nerves riled her up more than they should have. “listen, you dickh-“

her phone vibrated and lit up.

a familiar yellow ghost popped up.

badum! boom! badum!

she yelped and grabbed her phone, clambering back onto her bed.

toji fushiguro has added you as a friend!

“oh my god,” she gaped, a hand clasped over her jaw as it swung wide open. “guys.”

“what? what?” asa giggled, the rustling of sheets audible from his end of the line. “did he add you back?”

“uh huh,” was all she could muster in awe.

“let’s gooooo!” morgoth cheered.

“fuck, guys. what the fuck do i do now?”

well, whatever she decided to do, it absolutely had to wait. she couldn’t immediately respond in any sort of way; otherwise, she would seem desperate. no, she wanted to exude coolness, suaveness, and seem without a care in the world – especially not about gorgeous boys, with gorgeous eyes, and gorgeous…

“message him?” morgoth suggested, quite naively.

her and asa hissed in annoyance almost simultaneously. “absolutely not. are you stupid?” she snapped.

“well, i don’t know. what was the point of all this then if you weren’t going to message the guy?”

she made a string of incoherent noises, sputtering out, “i didn’t get that far!”

“listen,” asa interjected, the grounding voice of reason and calm. “leave it for five minutes, then send him a streak.”

a metaphorical lightbulb sprung to life above her head.

“fuck, you’re smart,” she whispered with reverence, taking a deep breath and unlocking her phone.

she spent that time deciding on what sort of snap she would take. would she do a classic forehead picture and just say ‘streaks’? or should she opt for the standard blacked out picture with just the letter ‘S’? no, if she was to catch toji’s attention, she had to stand out from the crowd.

she snapped a perfect frame of soma’s flourishing cooking technique and typed out a quick ‘streaks 🍳’.

and hit send.

for the second time that night, she dramatically fell to the floor with a loud thump. “i did it!”

“so proud of you,” morgoth remarked sarcastically. “when’s the wedding?”

“m, shut up,” asa huffed, tutting before asking. “girl, how do you feel?”

“on fire, but what if he ignores it? then that means he definitely doesn’t like me.”

“not really, hun. maybe he just doesn’t bother with streaks like m.”

“i agree, i always forget them.”

“don’t worry, we know.”

buzz!

toji fushiguro sent you a snap!

“guys, guys! he answered!” she exclaimed, rolling over and kicking her legs in the air.

“don’t open it!” asa screeched. “leave it for a minute.”

the next sixty seconds were absolutely agonizing, each second clawing its way through muddy trenches as shells rained down from the sky. she was breathing hard, a live tripwire, a bazooka ready to explode. as soon as the minute was up, she tapped on the red square to open toji’s snap.

she sucked in a breath.

there he was, wearing a tight grey t-shirt, with a close-up picture of his forearm and bicep, and a simple ‘streaks’ across the screen.

“guys,” she giggled. “i think i won.”

general taglist (open): @tadabzzzbee @wannapizzamymindposts @stromynight

school bus love taglist (open): @badbyeyoongi

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #fushiguro toji #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

133 notes · View notes

allthekingssmut · 1 year

Text

She's Rough And Coarse And Gets Everywhere

Jeon Heejin - Male Reader Word Count - 7.5k (2.2K) Tags: Rough Sex, Coarse Language and only trace amounts of sand... hopefully.

A/N: Welcome to Sandstorm 2: Electric Boogaloo, aka the reboot but not really since the original didn't happen. Which unfortunately means you're stuck with me. All joke's aside, this started as a anniversary present for Flint, which looking at the date... is pretty fucking late lol. Anyway, super big thanks to @nsfwflint for helping my rookie ass out and just being a cool dude all-round.

God, it is hot, a thought you trace as you find yourself nestled in the dark, dingy corner of Chalmun's Cantina. Even over the roar of crashing glasses and seedy elements, it always feels like your home away from home.

It helps that the music is decent.

Still, you can pick out a familiar guttural bark through the swells of liquor and hazy smoke.

"Shouldn't you be at work, kid?"

Chalmun.

His fingers flex and tug at his grey handlebar mustache... Can Wookiees even have mustaches? A lie pulls at the edge of your lips, tempting as it might be, but you know better.

"I-Uh, yeah," your teeth chew at the inside of your cheek. "Yeah, I should be."

"Do I need to remind you of the deal?"

You roll your eyes, something you hope he doesn't quite see or understand. "I get to freeload as much as I want as long as I help out Heejin."

"Which you are..."

"Not doing," a resigned sigh whispers past your lips. "I get it, I get it, it's just really hot in the garage."

Not a complete lie.

There's a flicker of an annoyed snarl that plays across his features, a hint of worry lingers in your gut. A deep inhale sets him at ease, a smile tickles across his lips.

"One would think you're not used to the twin suns of Tatooine," you feel his firm grip against your shoulder, raw and brutishly animalistic. "Odd, considering you've lived here your whole life."

A thumb bounces against his lip almost playfully in thought.

"Or perhaps something else is making it hard to focus and unbearably hot?"

He is right, there is no point doing it. Fight as you must, your brain lingers where it shouldn't. Her taut, sweat-soaked abs, the swell of her hips barely hidden by her jumpsuit.

You feel the greeting of cold glass against your skin, a bottle of liquor offered to your hand.

"Maybe this will help with the heat."

Despite your claims, the garage provides a welcome respite from familiar heats. The squelch of sand gives way to rigid metal.

"Is that you, Gogglehead?" Her voice echoes from deeper within, no doubt immersed in your work.

Pop the bottle, take a swig, cool off.

Focus up if you can.

The liquor saunters through every nerve, syrupy and sweet.

Kowakian rum.

Maybe it will help, if only to make you regret your existence tomorrow.

"Yeah, stopped off at Chalmun's for a drink," your feet dot around a corner, seeking her familiar tortuous figure. "Do you want some?"

You catch the faintest outline of her voice, her feet dangling out of the chassis, a tangled mess of wires and cords, the wiggle of her ass taunts you with an enticing sway.

Her back arches back with the swivel of her gaze. A furrowed crease lingers on her brow.

"I can't seem to get the pod to start."

You press two firm fingers into your temple, as it seems you now have two reasons to drink today.

Your tongue tastes the edge of your teeth with a stinging annoyance. "That's because I removed the thrust coil."

There's a flare of annoyance dotting each step towards you, the dance of a scoff against her lips. "I thought I told you the thrust coil was fine."

Her pointed finger prods at your chest, still, it's hard to ignore the slight hint of cleavage in her tube top.

Wait, were those your goggles?

The briefest touch sparks in your brain with a subtle intoxication, a want for more.

Her voice lingers in the air, the low huskiness is captivating even in spite of her irritated parlance.

A slow release of air is all you can manage.

Focus.

"Yeah, technically. Except it wasn't fitted properly for the cooling pump."

All this talk of thrusts and pumps isn't helping.

"Which, as you know, would make the engine blow."

A stressed huff is all that escapes her lips, fingers dancing across her temples as her eyes crawl shut.

There's a slightly forced smile that splinters across her lips, "What were you asking about again?"

Her lips soften as her eyes adjust over you, reinforced with a proper smile.

The glass bottle almost seems foreign and forgotten at that moment, "Uh, Kowakian Rum."

Her nostrils flare ever so slightly, her lips roil and dance with the idea before an exasperated sigh joins the fray with knotted eyebrows like tangled cablework.

"I'd love some, but I can't."

Huh?

"Excuse me, what?" The words sound more surprised and scornful than you anticipated, dancing in the simmering heat. You offer an arched eyebrow as a consolation. "Could you repeat that?"

Her lips flatten, curving into the tiniest frown.

"I said I'd love to, but I can't."

She stresses the word once again, you catch the flash of an almost cringe-induced grimace.

There's an almost troubled weight to her brow. A far cry from the Heejin you knew with a liquor tab nine pages deep.

You take another swig, almost habitual as the bottle rests in your hand.

"Do I even want to know?"

There's the lingering whispers of embarrassment that echo through her body onto her features, a dejected huff.

"Well, the Boonta Eve Classic is soon."

Your eyebrows knit together in a handshake of confusion.

"Yeah, next week. What's that got to do with today?"

There's the briefest flicker of her tongue against her lips before her teeth bite taut.

Her fingers pinch at the bridge of her nose as she paces.

"It's dumb, but my old coach would make us cut out all our vices before a race."

You offer her an understanding nod before taking another swig.

More for you.

Sweet rum trickles through your lips as a question cradles at the edge of your brow, before placing the bottle against the ground.

"So, like boxers before a fight?"

It would explain why you've been able to find moments away from her at the cantina.

"Yeah, exactly the same."

It's habitual the way your hands work and coast through wires and machinery, a habit you picked up from your father.

"Is that why you've been a bit…" Your hands struggle through the mess wrought by Heejin's handiwork, locked seals and knotted wires.

"Of a bitch?" She scoffs, a scowl burns across her face.

"Not the words I would've used," your eyes dance across the sandy brown ceiling. "Passionate, maybe?"

You catch the edge of a laugh, hidden by the roll of her eyes. Her laughter ripples with a melodic spring that dances and bounces against the tension that once hung thick in the air.

Still, there's something else that crinkles against your skin, a scintillating static that teases thoughts best left unsaid.

They're unprofessional, to say the least.

Yet, your eyes linger against Heejin, leaving the task at hand forgotten and abandoned. You swear she feels it too, if only for a second.

"Passionate, huh?" There's a flash of amusement that twinkles in her eyes. It twists slowly under your gaze before her eyes narrow, her voice drops lower with its husky richness, almost tauntingly. "Chalmun said you had a mouth on you."

There's something about the way that word rolls off her tongue, the coy dance as she moves closer.

Yet, she says nothing of it, of the deeper insinuation that lingers against your brain. Instead, her hands move with practiced precision, deftly manipulating wires and connectors, untangling the mess she'd left you with.

It's a practice you're used to with other clients. Why should you undo their missteps? Yet, there's a sensual grace to her movements, a fluidity that reminds you that she isn't a slouch in the mechanic department.

Yet, your brain lingers on the other applications such grace could be used for.

She pauses, taken by a sudden thought. There's the flicker of a smirk as she turns to you. "Being a little rough, or even bold, is more my style."

You lean against the nearby workbench, watching her continue to work in silence for a moment. You quickly find the rum in your hand once again, the cool liquid soothes your parched throat, but it does nothing for the simmering heat that lingers in your mind.

Your eyes never leave her taunting sweat-soaked figure, the lingering taste of rum on your tongue only intensifies your imagination and longing.

The question bites at your lips before you can even stop it.

"So, cutting out vices, huh?" You finally respond, your voice rich and huskier than you intended, betraying the thoughts that lingered. "Does that mean no late-night indulgences of any kind?"

Heejin looks up at you, her gaze meeting yours, a flicker of intrigue glimmering in her eyes. She pauses for a brief moment, as if weighing her response, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

"Well, let's just say that focus and discipline are essential before a race," she says, her voice lower, carrying a sensual edge that carves a shiver down your spine. "But let's just say all this talk of pumps and thrust isn't helping me with my frustrations."

The innuendo in her words hangs heavy in the air, weaving a web of temptation that becomes harder to resist. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the air between you charged with an undeniable chemistry.

Your gaze lingers on her as she continues working, her body moving with a seductive grace that seems to draw you in closer. The image of her sweat-soaked jumpsuit clings to her curves, amplifying the allure she exudes. The desire to reach out and touch her becomes almost overwhelming, but you fight to maintain composure.

As you approach her, your voice is laced with a mixture of desire and restraint. "Tell you what, when we win, I'll buy you as many drinks as you want."

Heejin's eyes darken slightly, her fingers pausing momentarily in their task. A smile plays at the edge of her lips, tossing and turning. She leans closer to you, her breath caressing your ear as she whispers, "Don't let your mouth write checks you can't cash, Gogglehead."

Her fingers play at your collar, a twinkling mischievous glint in her eye.

The suggestive implication hangs in the air, leaving your senses reeling. It takes all your self-control to keep your composure as the sexual tension between you and Heejin becomes nearly palpable.

With a knowing smile, you take a step back, forcing yourself to break away from the electrifying energy that crackles between you. "Let's focus up. We can't win if the pod isn't working in the first place."

Heejin's eyes follow your movement, a mix of longing and frustration flickering in her gaze. She bites her lip, as it falters, pushed back by the need for victory or perhaps something else?

A twitch of a smile lingers.

Tension hangs sticky and thick like the sweat that clings desperately to your overalls, there’s an anxious pace to your movements. Each wire, each connector, and every intricate detail weigh heavily on your mind and body, with ache and strain.

One small misstep spells defeat... or perhaps even worse.

As soon as the pod leaves the garage, it’s out of your hand. Heejin is no slouch, unless something catastrophically wrong happens... She can handle it.

Something you need to remind yourself of.

Yet, even as the days quickly blur together, there is a... weird nonchalance to her. That isn't the right word.

Calm and collected.

Unnerving.

At least compared to the itchy stressed friction you have grown accustomed to, though perhaps it is just her storied experience kicking in.

Even if she has been out of the saddle for a bit.

Still, it does nothing to settle your own worries.

“You know someone would think you’re the one racing Gogglehead,” her voice dances with a teasing playfulness. Even as you scan over the engine for the umpteenth time, you can practically see the smirk that plays on her soft lips—

Focus up.

“I-” How do you say you worry? That maybe it’s not so bad working with someone who isn’t useless an- “I just don’t want you blaming me if you lose.”

It's cocky the way her teeth flare, as her eyes look you up and down. A scoff echoes from her lips, the thought simply unimaginable. "And here I was thinking you were worrying about me."

Her fingers play at the collar of your jumpsuit, and it's hard to ignore the heat that builds with her touch. The way electricity hums under your skin as she steps closer, pushing into your space with an ease she only knows.

"Plus..." she whispers, and you feel each syllable brush against your skin, it’s light yet tempting all the same, pushing you with coaxing waves towards the edge.

The worry is almost an afterthought as her hand crests your hip. Her voice dips to a sultry, soft, husky whisper. "I have something of a good luck charm with me."

It creeps in your chest, the sparks that dance with her touch. You know better, as her lips peak with a smile, taunting and teasing. Still, it's hard to ignore the magic hidden in a magician devious yet charismatic trickery.

You hate the part of your brain that accepts she might be referring to you. Her taunts and jabs, a way to ease the tension that builds under her skin without indulgence.

It stings, as you bite your tongue, fighting the pull she has. You roll your eyes, step back, hand grasping a cloth to wipe away sweat and grease that mar your skin.

It's easier to breathe without her held in your gaze, your mind clears against her temptation. Still, you can't help but feel the heat that lingers thick in the air with her mere presence.

"Yeah, and what's this good luck charm?" you bite the bait, it's unwitting and against your character as your eyes stray back towards her plunging back into the thick heat.

Her lips brighten with that beautiful smile that pulls you deep and tugs at your core.

You almost miss when she is insufferable in a different way.

Still, there's a weird softness that flickers briefly on her lips, burning into her eyes for haunting microseconds. Your brain begs to understand what it means, if there is more under the surface.

But it quickly fades, a nameless speck of sand lost in an ocean.

She pulls out a familiar object, your eyebrows knit together—when did she?

"Really? My goggles?"

Your keepsake, your namesake, has been an afterthought against the heated hours in the garage. Too focused on the pod as a way to ignore the temptations that linger on the horizon.

She cocks her head to the side, the flare of her teeth with a scrunch of her nose tells you everything. Your reaction is priceless to her. To be fair, you completely forget about them in the ebb and flow of your conversation last week.

Still, there's a flit of actual happiness that plays on her lips, curving into a brief yet genuine smile.

You remember the hazy conversations from weeks long past, held in the drunken allure of the Cantina. A confession of vulnerability on your part, held together with liquor and a rare interest in you.

Your father's goggles.

Your good luck charm.

Yet, it means nothing to her, should mean nothing to her. The contradictions to your thoughts and assumptions linger on the sparks that twinkle in her eyes.

Her words are fuel to the fire.

"Of course~" her voice saunters with a teasing edge., flickering against the embers of something more. "A reminder of all the free drinks you'll owe me."

Her words poke and prod, flecked with a flirtatious taunt. Yet there's something that hums deep at the base of her voice, it twists with words unspoken.

Perhaps you're putting too much value on yourself in her eyes?

Yet it bounces and lodges in your brain, her own hushed worry.

The idea that you'd be with her, at least in spirit or a reminder of who to win for.

You catch the hitch of a smirk that scatters across her lips, the wind-up for another remark or jab.

"Plus, I can't wait to see all your winnings disappear on my tab."

A groan leaves your lips before you can stave it off, perhaps you are just her mechanic. A damn good one, mind you. Hell, you'd dare to say one of the best.

At least on Tatooine.

"Yeah, yeah." Your hands are already smoothing out the last details with the Pod, closing hatches and double-checking connectors. Your hands stray and drift, placing your goggles on her head. "Just make sure to bring those back, okay?"

Again, there's that flare of softness that beckons at the edge of her eyes as she looks up at you.

A weird tenderness clings in the air, it's vapid and calming. An entirely different beast to the charged and heated air you often share.

"I'd hate to come up with a different nickname for you after all."

The aftermath is a storm of its own kind, a mess of sweltering heat in Mos Espa's Grand Arena, charged with tense excitement.

It's violent and sudden, like a crash of thunder to the chest. Your human eyes aren't able to keep up with the sudden burst of sand that trails through the arena.

The roar of the crowd, akin to a gunshot breaking through the air, is the only evidence the race is over.

There's a hum of worry that lingers in your lungs, shoulders tense with an anxious weight. Your hand grips at Chalmun's shoulder, his fur jitters underneath your touch.

A roar tears through the air, a simple guttural howl, animalistic and excited.

Heejin would've probably asked you what he said.

A cheer of excitement, elation... but also smugness? You watch as his eyes dart towards the Hutt Clan's private box, the lavish adornments are lost on you as you catch a pained, scorned look echo across the Hutt's face.

You don't need to know Huttese to know someone is going to get fired.

Chalmun's energy is infectious as he grips your shoulders, lost in the throes of victory he shakes you violently.

Pain twitches through you as the world becomes a blur, yet even with the pain, your brain is focused only on her, the small speck in the distance putting on a show.

Flared waves of sand make it all the harder to pick her out through her victory laps.

Still, you can imagine her smile all the same.

It's unnerving, the chill bustle of the night air that saunters through Mos Eisley. Even through the thick haze of laughter, celebrations, and intoxication.

Chalmun's is your home away from home, normally you'd be in the thick of merriment, a sly attempt at free drinks. But something is missing... and you're hesitant to acknowledge it.

Have you been so caught up in the insinuation, the allure of her words that you've actually fallen for them?

...No, you're just tired.

Probably.

Still, you owe yourself a drink at the very least, a chance to join the revelry. After all, it is a rare thing for the Cantina to be filled with fewer of the more rambunctious and unsavory types you've known all your life.

You wave at Ackmena, two fingers a signal for your usual. She smiles, moving with a comforting warmth. If only she could work day shifts instead of Wuher.

Your drink slides over, punctuated with a wink.

"Thank-" the drink is gone in a flash, snapped up in a blur and returned with a slam.

Empty.

Some of the more usual behavior you're used to. A scowl licks at your teeth, your fist clenches tensed with an eagerness to make amends.

"You mind telling me why?" You ask, twisting around prepared to deck the dumbas-

Heejin or at the very least a beautiful woman in her shape and mannerism. The flare of teeth that takes pleasure in your reaction gives it away.

But fuck is she breath-taking, you mean no slight towards her usual appearance. If anything, there is a unique allure to the messy sweat-soaked and grease-smattered appearance that you've grown used to.

Replaced, draped in a luxurious fur coat that almost mocks Chalmun's usual patrons if it didn't enhance her already enrapturing allure. Her black crop top taunts you with the flare of her abs and soft curves aided by her black shorts and leather boots.

Her skin is no longer a teasing insinuation in your unfocused moments, rather a full-fledged suggestion for desire to latch on to, tooth and claw.

A girl out on the prowl through Coruscant's tempestuous nightlife, if you didn't know any better.

Her grin creases into a smirk, because oh god, you're staring and she knows.

It's hard not to, even with the flare of obnoxious confidence that glitters in her eyes.

Any words you have die in your throat, assailed by her charm.

Her tongue flits across her lips with a seductive grace, how would it feel against you in every sense of the word?

"If I'm not mistaken, someone promised me drinks." It's tantalizing the way she pulls herself close to you, lips hovering against your ear. "I intend to get my fill."

It's paradoxical the way you feel underdressed and yet overdressed for your desires. Heat prickles at the nape of your neck, your body's insinuation for how much you stick out, your jumpsuit mere rags in her company.

You knew you didn't, hoped you didn't. Yet it's hard to focus on logic when she lingers so close to you, her short hair tickling your skin.

Her proximity teeters on the edge of electric and intoxicating.

You're thankful your mind lingers on a memory, brief and fluttering, a passing conversation to ease the heat that settles in your core.

"Why the short hair?" An attempt at idle chit-chat before liquor loosened you up to conversation.

"My coach suggested it, said it'd get in the way." An oddly straightforward answer for the racer, you didn't know better back then.

You still remember the touch of her fingers as she leant closer, eyes focused, her voice dropping low to that tauntingly low husky whisper. "When fighting, racing, or fucking."

The grip of her hand pulls you back, calloused yet soft. You can feel the whisper of a smile, her breath tickling your cheek.

"Show me how you do it," her voice saunters like honey dripping with seductive sweetness, you cling to her words against the overwhelming bustle of a busy cantina. "Teach me."

It's hard to ignore the heat that builds, you know she's talking about slipping an order to Ackmena. But you can't help stiffen under the insinuation that haunts and tempts you.

You can practically see the pleasure that would quiver across her lips, tempting her to aid you.

A dry swallow is all you can manage to fight off the thought, a temporary fix.

She follows your guiding touch, moving with an almost uncharacteristic soft tentativeness. "Just like that?"

You swear you catch her breath hitch when your hand clasps against hers, pushing her fingers into place with unintended roughness.

A rare moment of catching her flat-footed, yet the moment drifts away like sand between your fingers before you can pounce.

A firm hand binds your wrists together.

Tork, Chalmun's bouncer.

"Boss needs the both of you in his office, pronto," his voice booms, despite his overwhelming stature and size, a small dumb animalistic fleck of your brain is tempted with the idea of a brawl.

Thankfully, Heejin moves first, slipping her hand out of his grip with spry ease. "We'll be there right away."

She smiles, the soft disarming smile you almost don't see anymore. Earning her a soft nod from the pale blue bouncer.

She shuffles slightly, straightening out her clothes.

"Wouldn't want to ruin a perfectly good day for him."

Tork only grunts in response before guiding you both through labyrinthine sandstone backrooms, the rooms twist and turn with each step before you find yourself in front of familiar doors.

Familiar is a generous term, only having seen them once when you were a kid. Your heart prickles with anxiety at the thought.

You're surprised when the door opens softly, his familiar brown fur gesturing for you to come inside.

You inch forward, your blood thrumming in your veins. You take in the dimly lit office, a timeless recreation from your youth. Your gaze falls upon the wall of blasters and you can feel their powerful presence.

You can still practically taste the freshly heated air, cooked with blaster fire. A fragment that haunts you from years long since past.

Still you push through, nudging Heejin away from the small inviting coffee table opposite his desk, the plush decorative rug stained with years old coffee hints at its sinister nature.

You didn’t want to see another victim, let alone Heejin of all people.

She falls in line with your touch, trusting your guidance. As Chalmun moves with a frenetic pace, a giddiness that keeps him moving.

Though you doubt Heejin could see the nuances when it comes to the Wookie.

"I wish I'd been alerted to your presence sooner," he smiles through his guttural barks. "My friends should only drink the finest liquor."

He rummages through cabinets and containers with a rough ferocity.

You roll your eyes, a smile twists across your lips. "Here I was thinking it was something bad. You can't get Tork to tell us you want to reward us?"

You catch a sigh of relief from Heejin at your words.

"Please, boy, where is the fun in that?" He beams a well-placed smile as he produces two familiar bottles. "I deserve some fun despite your efforts."

"I doubt you brought us here just for two bottles of Kowakian rum... even for a little bit of fun on your end."

"Of course not, make yourself at home, away from the riff-raff and her adoring fans." Mischief dances in his eyes as he steps closer, twisting the flare of a smirk against his lips. "I have a Sabacc game to get to, an attempt by the slugs to regain their honor."

"Alright, boss." Your eyebrows twitch, unsure of what he's playing at or for. He moves with confidence, shuffling past you towards the door.

There's a moment of hesitance as he turns back to you for the briefest second. "Just don't make too much of a mess."

"What was that about?" She asks, head tilting to the side with less than subtle curiosity. The Wookie becomes nothing but an afterthought, a fading ember in your isolated presence with Heejin.

"Oh," you turn to her, biting your lip. "He just wanted us to make ourselves comfortable and enjoy his private stock."

Even in the dim light born from the single illumination panel behind the desk, you can pick out the way her eyes narrow. Her lips purse, teasing on the edge of a question. "What about that last thing? It seemed pointed at you."

Her voice hums with something foreign, at least to your interactions.

Worry?... No, that doesn't seem right. Her nature, her confidence forbids the very idea. No, it's something else that dances tauntingly at the tip of your tongue.

"Relax, it was nothing, Heej," the nickname rolls off your tongue before you can even stop it, you watch as it lingers in the air, moving with a sauntering slowness. Your brain jostles with awkward apologies that die in your thoughts before finally it lands.

Square in her chest, judging from the swell of her smile.

"You don't have to call me that, you know?" there's a warmth that's strange on her lips, a flicker of softness as her eyes linger on you. "It's nice, though."

Her feet shuffle, shifting under the weight of vulnerability. She develops a sudden interest in everything, except for you. Unable to build up the courage to look you in the eye.

To speak plainly too, apparently. A rare silence fills the void in conversation.

A smile bubbles to your lips, you should cut her some slack, offer her a life ring. "We were gonna drink, weren't we?"

Your words cobble together the version of Heejin you're used to, fluttering eyelashes and teasing smirks.

She preens under your gaze with a sultry swipe of her tongue across her lips. Each movement is enticing, weighed heavy with calculated seduction.

The sway of her ass buzzes with a tantalizing edge, pushing into your space with a graceful twirl. "Yes, we were."

Your baser instincts beg for permission, to indulge her in her attempts. To feel your hands carve into her taut, firm ass as you take her.

It's hard to ignore the stiffening desire that stirs in your loins, her hand traces your chest pushing you back into the hardwood desk.

A smirk blooms across her lips, dancing with the often-times obnoxious confidence you'd grown to love to hate. It's hard to resist the tug, the control she has over you.

The only defense, the only respite you can manage is found in a bottle of Kowakian rum.

Syrupy sweet indulgence.

Her hand brushes over your bottle-held grasp, coaxing it out of your grasp into the embrace of her lips. She's less than subtle, as the liquor spills from her lips, trickling in enticing rivulets down her chin.

A knowing wink, pulls you deeper as she continues to imbibe; desperate to get her fill. Awe and admiration bubbles underneath your skin as she throws back the bottle and all of its contents.

The bottle slams against the desk, a devilish grin burns across her lips. She looks up at you, cheeks flushed with liquor that lingers on her every breath.

Her tongue plays against her lips, her eyes sparkle with a flash of insight, a realization.

Her teeth tense against her bottom lip, as the air cackles with tension, heavy and sweltering.

A flash of resignation, as words leave her lips.

"So," her voice drips with a hungry, ravenous need that you didn't need to hear, you could already feel it. The soft ministration of her hand against your clothed cock. "Are we gonna fuck or what?"

Gone is the pretense, replaced with a desperate gnawing need for her fill. It's intoxicating the way her lips quiver and crack against raw primal hunger.

Your hands crest her hair, soft and delicate as a wry smirk bounces across her lips. Her eyes settle on yours, beaming with anticipation and an unmistakable craving that eagerly awaits your command.

Her head tilts back, her silky locks spilling around her face in waves of delight.

A gasp shatters with a moan as your calloused hand tugs her hair, pulling her closer into your embrace. Her breath hitches and floats on the edge of another moan as you press against her contours.

You take your time savoring each sensation, the heat searing through the air as though it were tangible. Your mouth burns against her neck, leaving bruises that smolder in your wake. Each cinder pushes a smile against her, each ember pulls a purr into her throat.

Your cock is an afterthought against the hazy pleasure that twists and churns in the back of your skull. It aches and yearns, an animalistic need to consume her in your roaring flames, reduce her to an ash that knows only your name.

It's instinctual, the way your hands wander and rove over her body, teasing and taunting in equal measure as you whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

"You weren't kidding," a smirk hangs on your lips between flame-licked bruises. You lock your fingers through her hair, hungrily drawing her tight, clawing a soft whimper from her throat. Your hand trickles down her back with playful fingertips, haunting the edge of her hip before finally carving into her ass with a voracious slap. "Rough is definitely your style."

A flash of shock sparks against her features, eyes wide and mouth jar before it shifts into a hungry, carnal smile as her eyes latch tight to yours. She had no escape, but you doubt she'd want to.

You catch the turn of gears, a witty comeback in the making. Yet, you're too focused on the way her supple, taut ass feels against your hand. Your fingers teeter on the edges of her hips, creeping along the divot of her abs, plucking at the button of her short with a teasing flare.

Her words are shaky, barely discernible against the soft moans that escape her lips, blooming into a whiney drawn out fuck, as your fingers snake through her shorts and past her underwear.

Holy fuck is she wet.

A desperate quiver ripples across her lips strengthened with each passionate caress, her throat hums begging for more as your fingers slide into her slick heat, a flooded river of anticipation.

Your mouth clashes with hers, hot and frenzied as the air sizzles with passion. Her tongue crashes against yours, a carnal dance that leaves you gasping for more.

A tug of her hair earns a breathy honeyed moan as a smile twists across her lips, cocky and headstrong. Slowly it fades shifting with the guidance of your pleasure soaked fingers bucking against her sweet spot.

Any thoughts, any words jumble and die in her throat, replaced with a whispered please. Ecstasy ignites like a wildfire across her face tightening into a low whine as you hold her just shy of the precipice.

Her hips buck with a desperate plea, begging for release in the hazy mist of pleasure.

Yet, something fights within her at the edge of her lips, a small defiant fragmented shard.

Her hand caresses your cock, no longer a forgotten afterthought in your pursuit. She purrs as she strokes at your clothed length.

"I think someone deserves some attention," her voice dripping with seduction, a husky warmth. A veiled attempt to regain some semblance of control. "Let's see if it was worth all the anticipation~"

Her movements are smooth and focused, still you notice the weak wobble of her knees as she peels away your jumpsuit by the zip. Her fingers dance with an electric spark-filled tension slowly creeping to your boxers.

It's intoxicating the way her tongue flits across her lips as she drops to her knees. Raw hunger bounces across her lips, quivering in anticipation.

Her hands tremble and shake, a small crack in her veneer of confidence.

Her eyes linger and smolder burning with an intensity that threatens to swallow you whole. Her lips part with the slightest breath, her teeth clench tight against her bottom lip, her gaze unflinching as she slowly and deliberately peels away your boxers.

It's delicious and succulent, the surprise that echoes across her features, punctuated with a gasp as your cock smacks against her soft, dewy lips like a thunderclap of passion. The shock sends ripples all the way across her face as it curves around the bridge of her nose and plunges off the edge of her forehead.

A warm hum blooms in her throat, cresting into a pleasure drunk giggle as she nuzzles against your shaft.

"Oh fuck," she whispers her eyes dance along your shaft, the glint of held back fantasies glimmer in her eyes. Her hand pumps and twists across your length, extraditing a moan from your lips with her eagerness. Her breath hitches with a hungry excitement, tickling your shaft in between lovingly pressed kisses. "You should've told me, you had such a... fat cock."

She continues, lost in her ministrations, slowly and tantalizingly drawing out your pleasure as you groan against her soft touch. Yet, you can pluck out the fine line edge she balances on, the sound of slick wetness indulged as she pants heavily slapping her face with your cock. "You could've had me anyway you wanted you know?"

It's a feverish, lavish dance of her tongue around your cock, strung together with a primal and wild urgency, as if she would die if she didn't taste you against her tongue. Her lathered spit slowly christens every inch of your shaft, marking it as her territory.

Her gaze is a siren’s call, inviting you to dive into her depths. Her lips akin to silk as they tease the head of your cock

Her hands guide your own cresting through her hair, a silent encouragement to ravage her without restraint.

The sensation is inescapable, as your throbbing cock slipping past her dewy soft lips, plunging into her depths. You can feel the hum of a depraved smile as she gags and chokes against the sheer length of your cock, unable to fully take you.

It's a sputtering cough that echoes from her lips, hazed with watery eyes as she clutches for air.

"Come on, I can take it," there's a flare of a scowl against her teeth. "Don't be a bitch."

She asked for it.

Your hands tighten in her hair as she sucks and pulls in surprise, sending waves of pleasure shooting to your core. She looks up at you through heavy lidded eyes, smoldering with desire. Her fingers grip tightly around your shaft as her muscles contract around you - a gentle reminder that she will never let you go.

You push further into her until you bottom out, her nose pressed to your navel.

You're fully engulfed in heat and wetness as she begins to moan around you - softly at first, but quickly growing louder with each stroke that bulges at her throat.

Her eyes water, brim and swell against the ravaging pressure. She hums, smiles under your assault as the cascade begins, her own twisted badge of pride.

The sensation is overwhelming; a perfect balance of tightness and wetness as she sucks and gags around you.

The echoing sound of ministrations against her own slick heated desire becomes your guiding rhythm, the tempo only increasing with each gag and choke.

Her knees quiver and tremble as you ravage her throat without restraint, a mere tool in the pursuit of your own pleasure.

It only takes one final thrust, deep and hard to send her careening over the edge into a carnal pleasure-filled abyss. She screams into your lap, her body twitching in clear pleasure as wave after wave of her orgasmic bliss crashes against your shaft.

It's a desperate fight to stay afloat, to ignore the call to unload deep within her throat against the crashing waves of her orgasm, but you're after a sweeter prize.

"Holy fuck," she gasps, a hazy smile etched into her lips, she swipes at the stray messy strands of spit. "That was hot as fuck."

You found it hard to disagree, "You're..."

"Kind of a slut?" she adds, a dulcet whisper against your ear. It's hard to ignore the brimming smile.

"I was gonna say intense."

It's a soft genuine chuckle that saunters through the air. "Thanks, I'll take it."

Her eyes drift over you, her warm gaze a caress. She licks her lips and smirks as she looks at your cock. "A shame you didn't cum, the thought of you plastering my face or swallowing all your cum was so fucking hot."

Her delicate fingers entwined around your cock, massaging it with a gentle rhythm as your heart pounded in anticipation. Her eyes roamed yours before she spoke, her voice husky and full of desire. "I can't wait to feel this inside me."

All it takes is one swift move, as you grip her waist pulling her so intoxicatingly close to you, pressing her hips against the edge of the desk. A surprised giggle bounces from her lips as you pull her shorts and panties down her legs. The air crackles with electricity, you catch her rugged eagerness, as her clothes flutter and splay around Chalmun's office.

She's barely able to pull herself up the edge of the Chalmun's desk as your thick cock brushes against her drenched folds. You can see the sparks of pleasure as her eyes flutter shut, arms snaking around you, pulling you closer into her electric gravity.

Her legs shudder and quake as you push deep into her, her breath frozen in her throat as you push harder and harder, deeper and deeper into her.

The desk creaks-you swear it splinters-as you feel her cunt finally take the full might of your cock. It's in her wordless, breathless moments as her eyes roll back with

half-lidded desire, that you actually feel it, even through the torrential storm that is her she's-

"-So fucking tight."

Her fingers dig into your shoulders as her nails scrape against your skin, any words she has die, caught in clutched needy gasps. But you can see it in the flickering fire in her eyes, the twist of her devilish smile.

Make a mess, break the desk.

It's a feverish dance, the slow build to a crescendo that threatens to drown you in pure bliss. Each stroke punctuated with a resounding slap, a jiggle of her chest pushing against you as she moans in a guttural tone.

"Fuck me, fuck me," she chants softly, her eyes glued to your cock, a needy slut to your pleasure. Your hand grips tight against her locks pulling her into a messy torrid kiss.

She nuzzles into you, her lips are sloppy against yours as you plunge further and further. Her muscles clench tight against you, a fire burning with each pull, each thrust and soft moan. Her nails bite into your shoulders, drawing blood as she pants heavily against your lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chants against your lips.

A strangled moan escapes her throat, the intensity of your thrusts increasing as the pressure builds within you, threatening to burst forth. She cries out with each thrust, the sound of your cock diving into her depths, a melody to her ears.

Her lips part with the slightest of breaths, her tongue darts across her bottom lip, a silent invitation to dive deeper. The feeling is visceral as she clenches every inch of her muscles tight against you, a searing rapture that threatens to swallow you whole.

The feeling is overwhelming; a soft and wet embrace as you plunge deep into her. The tightness of her walls around you, as they pulse and constrict around you.

She's barely holding onto her consciousness, her eyes glued to the way her breasts shake and jiggle as you fuck her senseless.

You find it hard to resist the incessant call to cum, burning with an intensity that threatens to swallow your mind whole. Her moans fall into a steady rhythm as you plunge into her harder and harder.

"Cum," her voice a husky whisper, yet tinged with something more, a tempered unexpected softness. It's real and vibrant even in the haze of pleasure. "I want to feel you."

It's needy and desperate.

The feeling is inescapable, the sensation of her tight and wet around you. She screams in pleasure, a shrill moan that pierces the air around her.

The desperation in her eyes and on her lips as you're pressed together was unmistakable; a clash of teeth and tongue full of longing. You feel the urgent desire that emanates from her, radiating into your lungs with each clawed breath.

It was more than just sex at that moment, as her lips nip at yours and her legs clutch and locked around your waist. You can feel the raw emotion radiating off of her, a feral passion that throbs through your veins.

You can feel every part of her body tremble with pleasure as each kiss deepens further.

Your hands caress her neck, exploring every inch of her skin as she shudders beneath you. You feel like you're losing control, giving into the sensations coursing through both your bodies.

The sounds of pleasure that escape her lips become heavy and desperate as the sensation builds inside of you both, an explosion of heat that threatens to consume you.

She claws at your back, gasping for air between breaths as each thrust sends jolts of pleasure through both your bodies.

Her hips grind against yours, pushing herself further and further towards the brink of insanity. Her voice catches in her throat as she cries out for more, begging for release from the overwhelming sensation within.

"Cum for me," she whispers into your ear, her voice dripping with lust, tarnished by desperate and undeniable need.

It's all you need.

A crash of pleasure rocks your core, electric shocks race up and down your spine as you finish inside of her, launching rope after feverish rope into her depths. A moan catches in her throat, hitching with each decadent spurt as she truly gets her fill.

"Wow," she opens her misty eyes, her lips curled into a hazy smile. "That was... intense."

The warm air around you is a heavy blanket that settles around you both, a contented and satiated silence that settles against her skin.

"Hey," she nudges you, languid in the afterglow. Still, you catch embers of a teasing smile. "I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"Is this our first date?"

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