#he's so handsome it causes me physical pain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilythena · 3 months

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𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 || 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

★SUM when you decide to break up with your boyfriend, you never thought you’d end up sleeping with his enemy.

SMUT!!!! Fem reader, one night stand turned lovers, oral (F and M receiving), sloppy make outs, cheating (reader and her bf are cheating on each other), mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t actually happen, hangover sex, creampies, phone sex (readers bf calls and they pick up mid deed), Jack doesn’t give two shits lmao, he’s kinda switchy???, “I can treat you better than he can” trope, reader is a celebrity but her personal work is not mentioned, use of y/n, unhealthy relationships, Jack does not live with Luke in this fic, readers ex boyfriend is not named and can be whoever you’d like it to be.

WC of 3.2K, not proofread 😥

♪ Practice - Drake

“All I want to do is go out and you’re already acting like a bitch.” Your boyfriend says as he buttons up his shirt

“You promised this time we would stay in.” You said from your spot in the room as he shifts his eyes to look at you from the mirror and his brows furrow “so what? You want me to be inside all the time and be boring? I have a social life I have to keep up with, y/n. You can either stop being a pain in the ass about it and come with me or stay here by yourself.” He says as he walks out the room and with a heavy heart you follow him outside.

Sitting in the passenger seat silent he drives you both out to some random club with random people and quickly ditches you without even saying goodbye

Your boyfriend immediately left you in the corner as soon as you both got there, and there you were standing there like you knew you would be. Everyone's drinking and smoking who knows what and it makes your skin crawl at the fact that you have no clue who your even around right now.

"Hey beautiful. What're you doing here alone?" Some random creep says to you and you have to physically hold back from cringing into your skin, the alcohol evident on his breath.

"Sorry, I'm not looking for anyone" you say and quickly down your drink to move to the dance floor to get away. Bumping into strangers you realize the alcohol kicks in quicker than you thought it would. Eventually finding your boyfriend and rolling your eyes at the way he’s obviously flirting with another girl, you quickly realize you’re gonna have to find another way home tonight.

Trying your best to forget about your shitty excuse of a boyfriend, you very quickly start to dance with some random. Though the lights are extremely dark, you could tell he was handsome.

Told you he’s seen you around before, and than he’s been plotting on you for a while. His offering of a drink somehow turnt into you grinding against him and in the blink of an eye you’re stumbling into his apartment, drunk and insanely horny.

Lightheaded. That's the only word you could use to describe how you feel so early in the morning.

Forcing your eyes open you see the man who’s name is apparently Jack laying on your chest-knocked out asleep. You sigh and grab your phone to check the time: 5:30 am, you have a few notifications from the group chat you and your friends share; most of it just your friends being they’re usual crazy selfs with your other friends entertaining it.

Your hand finds itself into his hair, stroking it while he lets out quiet snores against you. The buzz from the alcohol must've followed you into the next morning cause you still feel so relaxed, head spinning but in a good way. You feel jack shift against you to pull you closer and you look down at him.

His eyes are on you now, mumbling a "good morning" while his hands run down your back and he presses a kiss on your collarbone. The action makes your heart flutter and you whisper "good morning" back to him, hand pushing the hair out of his face while he scoots up to lay his head in the crook of your neck.

“Jack, I really shouldn’t be here-“ “I know you have a boyfriend, pretty girl. I don’t care about him. He doesn’t deserve you.” He cuts you off with a mumble of the last part and you’re stuck in minor shock

You don’t protest his statement knowing that he was right. If your boyfriend can have some fun why can’t you?

You two have simple conversation, him asking what time it was and how you were and you responding. You scrolled through instagram seeing yet another picture of your boyfriend leaving the club with some random woman and he watched silently while rubbing his hands onto your waist. He suddenly hums and makes small pecks into your neck, kissing around until he finds a spot that makes you breathe a little heavier and leaning your head to the side so he can get better leverage at the spot.

"What're you doing?" You whisper, curious but making no effort to stop him. "Kissing you." He replied blankly, mumbling small praises in between the kisses. You move his head so you could kiss him on the lips— sloppily but passionate. He pinches your sides to make you gasp so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth, groaning into the kiss.

He moves a knee between your legs so you don't close them, moving your shirt up so he can kiss down your torso until he gets down to your pants. He looks up at you; asking with his eyes if he can remove them and you nod. He wastes no time taking your pants off and removing your underwear, dick twitching when he sees how wet you are.

'''S all for me?" He mumbles into your thigh and you nod again, breath hitching in your throat. "Use your words." He says, kissing up and down your thighs-both arousal and nervousness pooling in your stomach at the sight of him kneeled down in front of you. "Yes. All for you." You say, and you could barely get another word out before he begun to lick a stripe up your slit.

An audible gasp left your mouth while a groan left his, and your hand—that was previously holding your shirt up—flew to his hair and gripped onto it for balance.

"Why didn't you tell me you tasted so good?" Jack said, words coming out slurred due to him not bothering to stop the attack on your pussy. "H-when was I supposed to tell you tha- oh my god." you said, words getting cut off when his tongue circles your clit.

He's really eating you out now, head mushed between your thighs, licking and sucking every part of you his tongue can reach. You don't know how he became so alert so quickly, he just was damn near asleep barely even half an hour ago. The feeling becomes too much, you squirming around and him grabbing both of your thighs to bring you back to him, mumbling a "stay still for me" into your core as he continues.

It's only a few more moments until you get closer to the edge, whines and moans increasing in pitch as Jack inhumanly speeds up. " Jack, I'm close" you whine, and he just hums as he continues. Your thighs closing in on his head as you cum and him groaning, trying to practically drink it before you have to forcefully remove his head from your pussy. His eyes are low, filled with lust and you're panting, trying to catch your breath.

“I’m not done with you, pretty. Let me fuck that loser boyfriend of yours out of your head, hm?” He says as he drags you closer to the middle of the bed, near his now hard dick that was now very obviously poking through his shorts.

The fact that he’s not wearing a shirt makes this process much easier, as all he had to do was slide down his shorts and kick them off. You’re staring at him and you don’t know what to think right now, he’s huge. He looks at you for a brief moment before smirking, “you like what you see?” He says and your face gets a little hot when you realize you’ve been caught. He spits down into his hand and gives you a little show, jerking himself off and teasing his tip on your slit.

“I wanna suck you off” you suddenly blurt out and he can’t help but chuckle a little. “Next time, lovely. If I don’t fuck you right now I think I might explode.”

“Jack please don’t tease me” you whine and he kisses up from your collarbones to your ear, and whispers a beg for it into your ear. “Please, please, put it in. I need to feel you.” Was all it took from you before he put a hand next to your head and he was pushing himself into you.

He pushed in slowly, part of it wanting you to get you to the stretch, but the other part of it was for him to not cum quickly. “You’re so fucking tight y/n, god.” He groans out and you moan out when he finally bottoms out inside of you.

Jack doesn’t waste any time pounding into you as you quickly grab onto his shoulders for support. “Oh!” You cry out and he grunts in reply, “so fucking wet too. This turn you on? Having a real man take care of you like this.” He says as he grabs you by your chin so you can look at him and you sob out a yes for him.

“Feels so good, Jack. So full of you, fucking me so good” you whine out and he lets out what would seem to be a quiet whimper “keep talking to me like that and I’m definitely not gonna last long, baby.” He licks his thumb and brings it down to your clit to rub it in fast, tight circles that makes your jaw drop and your toes curl.

“Oh fuck! Jack!” You say as your back arches off the bed and he puts his other free hand on your back for support. “Come on baby, let go for me. Cum on this cock.” He whines into your neck and with a few more thrust you were creaming all over him. He keeps going and you quickly get overstimulated while he holds your hips down into the bed

“Just a little more, pretty. I’m gonna cum so fucking hard into you. Fuck.” He pants out and like he said, after a few more deep thrusts, he cums inside of you.

He gently lays on top of you as you both catch your breaths and come down from your orgasms. He kisses your temple and whispers about how he’s going to run you a bath and bring you some water.

“What am I going to wear? And as much as I would love to stay here I have to go home.” You whisper and he tells you not to worry about it, that you could take one of his shirts and he’ll take you home his self. You don’t object when he carries you to the bathroom and sets the water temperature to warm.

Begrudgingly getting out of jacks car and giving him your number, you grab your keys and walk into your very empty apartment. Usually you’d be upset, however this time you’ve never been more grateful. You wash your face and put on a movie to lay on the couch and rest.

You’re rudely awoken when your boyfriend walks through the door at 11:30 am and you don’t even bother to ask him where he’s been when you know exactly where he was.

“Hey babe.” He says and you hum a small “hey” back to him. He doesn’t even know you didn’t come home last night and you plan to keep it that way.

“What’s up with you? All relaxed.” He says and you shrug “I was taking a nap…” you say and he side eyes you. You don’t usually sleep unless he comes home but he lets it go as you were probably tired.

It’s been a few weeks of you and Jack sneaking around while your boyfriend doesn’t have a clue. And a part of you feels bad about it but then again he’s cheated multiple times and you’re simply not in love with him anymore.

Tomorrow, your boyfriend has a game against the New Jerseys devils which excites you because then you get to see Jack again.

“Why are you so happy to go? Never seen you this excited to see me kick some ass in a game before.” Your boyfriend chuckles as you mentally groan and put on a fake smile “just happy that I get to see my boyfriend play.” You lie straight out of your teeth, well not really. You are watching your boyfriend play, just not him. he smiles at your statement. “You know, recently you’ve been acting different. And honestly, I love it so much. You’re so much more calmer and it just makes me happy that knowing you regained that trust in me.” He said and you didn’t even respond. Just smiled like you didn’t know what was happening

“Only thing that’s pissing me off is that Jack kid” he says and you freeze. “…What do you mean?” “I mean like, he’s just some pretty boy who thinks he’s the shit. Thinks he can do whatever he wants and tonight I’m gonna beat his ass in this game tonight to show him who’s boss.” You don’t say anything once again and you’re left with your thoughts while your boyfriend flips through the tv to find a channel to watch.

By the time you left the house, your boyfriend was already on the ice getting ready to start his match. You’re about to sit down next to your friend when a text comes through your phone.

Jack 🤍

Come meet me after the game.

You shoot back a 👍 before putting your phone down and talking with the girl beside you.

It was obvious who was going to win. A devastating game for your boyfriend with a 4-0 to The new jersey devils but a celebratory one for your affair partner. Your boyfriend doesn’t even look at you, just gets in his car after taking off his gear and goes home. You don’t even care anymore, and after you see all the boys leaving the opposite teams locker room, you text Jack asking if it was okay for you to come to his apartment and he immediately sends a yes.

You walk into the place and immediately you’re hugged by him, which sends butterflies to your stomach and a bright genuine smile to your face.

“Missed you, gorgeous. Saw how I kicked ass out there?” He says as he pulls away to look at your face and you smile even harder “I did! You played so good, super proud of you” and he gives you a deep kiss as you both giggle.

“You have to stop! What if you leave a mark?” You whisper laugh and he nips at your ear “don’t care anymore. Let them know how much I love you.” He says and you suddenly feel flustered “Jack….” “Y/n. You don’t have to be with him anymore. I can take care of you so much better than he can and you know that.” He says with so much seriousness in his voice that you’re left speechless

“Jack-“ “I genuinely love you. seriously. I want to be with you.” He says and you have no words so you just kiss him again. The kissing turns into him pinning you against the wall and the grinding and groping is very evident.

“Take all this off baby. I need you right now” he says as you’re quick to push him down onto his couch. “Not this time. It’s your win. Let me take care of you” you say and he whispers a fuck while his eyes run along your body.

You take off your top and after a few minutes of kissing and grinding, you drop to your knees and he lets out a gasp of pleasure at you palming him.

You unzip his pants and he’s breathing heavily, anticipating what you’d do next. You spit onto his dick and roll your hand around it for a few strokes before giving gentle kisses to his tip.

“Baby don’t tease, thought you were taking care of me?” He whines out as you giggle “I am. Be patient for me.” You say and his next words fall flat on his tongue as you start tonguing his head.

Finally granting his wish, you dip your head down and take him fully down your throat. Your cheeks pulling in to suck him tighter while your head dipped up and down. A groan of surprise leaves his mouth as his eyes immediately become hooded.

“Fuck, angel. Such a nice mouth you have on you” he groaned out. But his muttering and whining was quickly cut off with the way you sloppily put your tongue on his balls

“Holy shit. Oh my fucking god baby. You’re incredible” he moans out as you continue to jerk him off while popping of on his balls out of your mouth and moving on to the one beside it.

You took him back into your mouth and your hands worked around what you couldn’t reach, the head of his dick kissing the back of your throat in a pleasureful burn and you can feel tears swelling in your eyes when he gently grabs your head and begins to start fucking his full length down your throat.

His moans and whines become more desperate every second and it’s obvious he’s close to cumming. Although you’re enjoying your time here, your phone suddenly starts ringing. It’s your boyfriend. Jack groans out partly in annoyance and in pleasure and then he gets an idea. “Wanna show your boyfriend how pretty you look when I cum down your throat.” He almost cries out and you moan around him “please baby, can I pick up the phone at let him he- oh fuck, let him hear how well you take me?” He says as he struggles to keep his composure with the way you’re deepthroating him, cutting himself off with his own moans

You hum in approval and Jack doesn’t waste any time picking up that phone and putting your boyfriend on speaker.

“Hey. Where are you-“ and all that’s heard is a loud gag through the room and the sloppy noises of your mouth on jack’s cock.

“Fuck baby. Keep going please. I’m so fucking close, oh my god.” Jack says as he throws his head back, face flushed and neck red as you hold his hips down and begin bobbing your head up and down again.

“Y/n?! What the fuck is happening?! Who is that?!!” Your boyfriend frantically says as Jack takes the phone. “She’s a pro at sucking dick. Honestly I have no clue how you could even let her out of your sight” Jack grunts out and hangs up the phone, not even wanting to bother with him right now.

A few more bobs of your head and Jack is cumming down your throat. Chest heaving as he does so. “Oh fuck, you’re so perfect, holy shit.” He whines out and you’re determined to clean him up completely, continuing to suck him off until he was completely finished

“Fuck- you trying to kill me over here? God” he says with a small laugh as you finally pop off his dick, catching your breath.

As you and Jack bask in the afterglow, your boyfriend is blowing up your phone and before you can reach for it, Jack stops you.

“You don’t need to worry about him anymore. You’re mine now.”

#jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #jack hughes #jack hughes x y/n #new jersey devils #ꨄ angie’s works.

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month

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Will knows who it is at the first light brush on his shoulders.

He tips his head back back, bumping his boyfriend’s hip, leaning into the hand on his trapezius, his scapula, the base of his neck.

“Hi,” he says, grinning.

“Hi,” Nico says, leaning down to press his smile onto Will’s forehead. His hair tickles his cheeks, and he smells like woodsmoke and citrus, and Will slides his hand across his jaw and tugs him closer.

“Errand done?”

“Yep.”

“Lord Hades pleased?”

“As much as he ever is.” Nico shifts, kissing the corner of his mouth, the curve of his chin, the shape of his jaw. “My ears are ringing from five days of quiet. Even the echoing sound of lost souls cannot compete with your constant blabbing; I hardly knew what to do with myself.”

“Oh, shut up. You love my chatterin’.” He smacks the side of Nico’s head, but it’s hard to play mad when he’s smiling, shameless, wide enough that his teeth nick Will’s cheekbones, that his snickers are muffled into his skin.

“If I wanted to be stuck with someone who yaps nonstop I would’ve stayed down with Cerebus. In fact he might shed less, and he doesn’t drool when he sleeps.”

“…I do not shed.”

Nico plants both hands next to Will’s head, heaving himself up, and scans his camp shirt. Within three seconds, he locates a strand of hair, pinches it off, and flicks it at Will’s face.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, for the love of — get over here,” Will demands. Laughing, Nico goes where Will tugs him, curling up next to him on the bench. “You’re such a shit. Normal people are much kinder to the significant annoyances they leave behind for five days, you know.”

“Are they.”

Nico lifts his arm in offering and Will accepts with relish, tucking himself under it and making certain to drag his curls down Nico’s face in the process.

“Yep. In fact I was expecting hand-written letters by day two, honestly, telling me how much you missed me and how the distance was physically painful, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe a sonnet or two. Italian, preferably, Elizabethan are not my favourite.”

“You’re very picky.”

Will sniffs haughtily. “Well, I’m a catch. You have lots of competition, you know. I was fighting them off while you were away but now that you come back and insult me upon reunion, I shall reevaluate my options.”

He feels more than hears the quiet laughter Nico presses in his hair, thumb brushing his collar, dipping onto bare skin.

“Is that so.”

“Indeed. My suitors have even offered a dowry quite handsome. I’m worth twenty-seven goats, didn’t you know.”

“Oh, well then. I might as well return what I brought for you, since I’m not sure I can outshine two dozen goats.”

The cool thing about being a son of Apollo is that Will has range. His dad is the god of arts, generally, up to and especially the dramatic ones. Will knows how to school his face into the perfect mask, how to smile on command and cry as desired, how to deliver a line and bow with a flourish. Playing a part comes as naturally as breathing, as naturally as healing.

“A present?” he asks, checking his nails as if the mere thought bores him. “That’s interesting, I guess.”

Nico doesn’t even bother to indulge him.

“Here, you massive dweeb,” he snorts. He hands over a small paper box, hand-folded and thin. “I can practically feel you vibrating.”

There is only one thing in this world, quite possibly, that Will likes more than proving Nico wrong, and that is letting his boyfriend spoil him. In all honesty it’s a real challenge sometimes, because Nico is really very good at being everything Will has ever wanted even if he has wrong opinions on most movies. Truly Will’s life is a joke at which the gods must howl with laughter.

Eagerly taking the box, he holds it up to his face, carefully inspecting every corner. The paper is regular printer paper, slightly waterlogged (from the Big House printer, then, ‘cause Will was carrying a giant bag of saline in from storage when he was eleven years old and tripped on the shipment of office supplies that someone had left, for some reason, in the middle of the fucking hallway, and the bag had exploded on impact all over four boxes of printer paper holding one thousand pages each) and carefully bent into shape. He recognises Nico’s handiwork from the dozens of origami paper sculptures he’s been gifted over the past few months.

“Open it.”

“What is it?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “What did I just say.”

“No, I mean — it’s not my birthday or anything.”

“So?”

“So you’ve wrapped me up a present! I want to know why before I open it.”

“Just because,” Nico mumbles, pressing a kiss to his temples. “Not everything needs a reason, nosey.”

“If nothing had reason then we would still be premordial soup,” Will mutters, but pops open the lid anyway.

He gasps.

“Oh my gods, Nico, you —”

Nico’s smiling smugly, but Will barely notices. Inside the box is a black chain darker than shadow, so dark it doesn’t even glint in the heavy sun, and dozens of little charms, from polished obsidian to a ball of slowly flickering flame.

“You like?”

“It’s gorgeous!”

He makes a triumphant nose, pumping his fist, and says, “Fuck those suitors, I fucking win,” and the funniest part is that he’s damn serious. There’s a glint in his eye identical to when he wins a sword fight, to when Connor loses a bet to him, to when twenty-odd bets are stacked against him and he’s got a full house. Something dangerous and wild and superior and Will is not an enabler, okay, he is not, but he is only so strong and there is only so much he can do when pretty boys wrap their arms around him and smirk at him and bring him bracelets they made in the Underworld. He’d like to meet someone who wouldn’t fold, actually.

“There were no suitors, you loser,” he says, but he’s flushed, pleased smile stretched wide across his face, and Nico’s grinning that too-wide grin and tilting Will’s face closer with the edge of his thumb, like he barely had to try. And there’s always a little bit of shadow leeching off him when he comes back from a quest, an aura surrounding him like he’s squaring off to the sun, and of course the wild churning in Will’s stomach has nothing to do with that but what’s he to do, really? What is a warm-blooded person with eyes that can see to do when faced with such a look?

“Of course there aren’t. They know I would reap their actual souls.”

“Possessive, much.”

“You’re literally going red.”

“Shut up.”

And he does, but only because Will makes him.

Although judging by the hand he shoves in his hair, he doesn’t seem to mind.

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anadiasmount · 2 months

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doing the calling my boyfriend ‘husband’ trend on jude while you do a grwm + diml !! just know he’d be so shy and giddy 😚😚

OHHH MY GOD!! YESS!! our hubby indeed 😣🤞🏻

your day had consisted of pure media filming, for your tiktok, instagram, youtube, and a small blog you had owned. you woke up early so film a get ready filming bits of you and your boyfriends private life, making breakfast, walking outside and working out together, cooking, and now doing a get ready.

you’d seen the popular trend circling around where you called your boyfriends husband on tiktok, especially that one video that made you physically wince and pained you with the one guy being passive aggressive and denying it. you with jude that wouldn’t be the case.

because any chance he got he would call you pet names and his girlfriend. ‘my girlfriend’, ‘my girl’, ‘my angel’, ‘my dearest girlfriend’, ‘my wifey’, all that. he often got teased at the internet, not afraid of hiding and showing his protectiveness of you, a hand on you at all times or letting them know you were his.

jude had left quickly to pick up some shoes he’d ordered, which gave you plenty of time to hide a extra camera and your phone to record his reaction to the prank. while you waited you showed of new sets of clothes that came in, along with other pr packages that were sent to you

jude hand returned when you were finishing your brows, handing you a blue gatorade and snacks to munch on as you filmed, greeting the camera and giving you a peck on your lips. “sorry guys, my handsome and lovely husband just brought me some goodies,” you apologized showing the treats and opening them.

even though you couldn’t see, you felt and sensed jude tensing and pausing what he was doing. “as you know and have seen, i will be launching new items soon on my blog! my husband jude has helped me organize this drop for months so i’m super excited for you all to see and buy!” you smiled blending out your baking powder underneath your eyes.

jude smiled inwards, looking at you who was distracted by perfecting your contour and blush. he asked himself if this was one of your pranks or if it just naturally fell from your lips, either way, he couldn't hide the adoration built in his chest at hearing you call him 'husband'.

he didn't understand why all of a sudden he felt nervous and unable to look you in the eyes, with shaky hands as he attempted to open his own snacks and bottled water. he felt a hot and loving sensation in his chest, having the urge now to be close to you.

you heard jude shuffle around, grabbing a random bean bag and sitting next to you where you were almost finished with your makeup. he complimented how you looked, asking questions about what you used and if you were close to finishing. you smirked knowing you had a small reaction out of him, jude was now all soft and charming.

hours later, you were editing all the content from your phone and camera onto your laptop, sitting on the kitchen island as jude was busy away cooking. you felt like continuing the prank so you grabbed your phone and did just that.

"welp, it's the end of the day! I'm very much tired but i made a lot of content for you guys so stay tuned! on the nights we're together my dearest husband cooks for us, and tonight he's making chicken with pasta," you say kinda loudly, walking over to judge and laying your head on his bicep.

jude cleared his throat, letting out a nervous chuckle and smiling shyly. he nervously stirred the cause, listening to you blabbering about your day and skincare products. "i have to pee, but i'll leave my husband to explain the recipe and what he's making," you say in a hurry, leaving jude with words in his mouth and the phone, as you ran off.

you watched from a corner a stuttering mess of jude as he went on and on listening to the ingredients and spices he mixed for dinner. grabbing your phone with his free hand showing the mess in the kitchen and the food that was almost ready to be done.

you acted like nothing happened, pecking jude's cheek when returning. "i have a question," he said curiously avoiding eye contact with you, leaning on the counter. you interlocked your hands resting them under your chin with innocent eyes. "is there a reason you've been calling me your husband today?"

"you don't like it?"

"no baby i do! but i was just wondering since you never call me that... you did it earlier today and i noticed it," he said, you tried not to laugh on the spot at his uneasy state. "am i your husband? need to know because i can't recall the day we got married," he joked.

"it's a tiny prank," you admit seeing jude roll his eyes and lean away from you. "of course it is," jude said seriously with a small frown on his face. you followed him apologizing over and over again with a laugh, jude feeling a small pang of sadness wave over him. "jude," you call out, trying to get his attention but he refused moving or backing away.

"prank or no prank, i hope you still know your my hubby, that's what i have you saved on your contact handsome," you admit, seeing a glint of happiness reach his brown eyes again. "really?" you nod, "I'll show once you say bye."

he quickly said bye, kissing the camera on turning it off, grabbing you, and setting you on the marble counters. he kissed you deeply, blowing your breath away at his certain dominance, your heart warmed as he gently grabbed your left hand and placed the slightest kisses on your ring finger.

"i hope you know that one day i'll be your husband, and you will be my wife forever."

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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tarjapearce · 7 months

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Omg, your asks are back open, I just want you to know that I can’t stop thinking about your punk miguel post god damn. If you could write some more of that that would be very cool 🥺👉👈 Only if you want to though!!! I love you

art by @bumbleboots_art on Ig

Warnings: Angst, mild physical assault, fluff, suggestive towards the end.

Miguel

Punk Miggy

Pt. 1

Ever since Miggy appeared through a portal into your lives, things had been chaotic.

You needed to believe things were chaotic good, but with two Miguels you truly didn't know what to expect. Your grumpy faced Miguel often barked orders with a strategy in mind, while Miggy just gave in the heat of the battle and things somehow ended up working.

But at the end of the day everything resumed into a bunch of

"Te dije que hicieras caso!" (Told you to obey)

"I obey orders from none. You specially"

God, as handsome as they were, they were annoying. The constant clashing had also played a huge part in your almost-lover/boss situationship with you. Everytime they bickered like loud vexing parrots, you left them be.

At the begining it was fun to watch them rant and banter, but as things evolved into something more tense and borderline dangerous, your own share of mental force was drained.

You barely hung out with them anymore, adding to the already snapping short temper of your Miguel.

Miggy looked suspicious, and truly wondered if things had been too much for you to not be around.

His eyes however widened in knowing pain as a flurry of memories paraded on his mental runway. He watched Miguel, or at least another variant of him, having and enjoying a little girl he knew so well. Little Gabriella.

"Stay away" He growled, but how could he?

How he could do such thing when another variant of his little girl was there, happy on his shoulders, freshly out of a soccer game.

His own Gabriella loved hearing him play the guitar, just as much as he loved serenading her. His Gabriella loved to make patches for him to add at his jacket. The two had matching patched up vests. In every universe his little girl was beautiful and loved. Like it should be.

"I fucking told you to stay away!" Miguel growled as his punk counterpart held his hands in defense while dodging a hurling chair thrown his way

"I lost her too, Y'know?" Miggy laid on his chair as Miguel grabbed him by the collar of his vest. Fangs bared, tight grip and nose flaring.

"I miss her too."

With a grunt, Miguel let him go.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, jefazo. You might fool everyone under your command. Even our princesita. But you don't fool me. I am you, remember? Estás bien pendejo si crees que puedes engañarme." (You're stupid if you think you can fool me.)

"She's a constant reminder of what I do." Miguel pointed at the screens, "And why people should fucking follow orders."

Miggy rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Could you shop talking about work second for a moment? Let's focus on-"

"She's gone. Nothing to focus on, besides the multiverse."

"I know what it feels like. To suddenly lose-"

"Tu?! Tu no tienes ni una puta idea de lo que se siente!" (You had no fucking idea to what it feels like!)

Miguel roared, as Miggy frowned with a scowl only to his chest to bump against his, retaliating.

"¿Crees que no, cabrón? I lost her due an asshole policeman doing a misdirected gunshot just cause he mistook me for a criminal. He shot in the air, and it got her. It was aimed at me!" (You think I don't, dipshit?)

He palmed his chest before ripping the velcro patch Gabriella had made for him and tossed it on his hands.

My favorite Rockstar

"You fucking think I don't know how powerless you'd feel while watching your little girl dying right before your very eyes?! "

"Al menos tuviste algo que sepultar." (At least you had something to burry)

Miguel mumbled and his punk counterpart stilled.

"She vanished in my hands." Red and blue clad shoulders slumped heavily. A burden he still carried to this day.

Silence stretched for a bit too long, before Miguel sighed and turned his back on him.

"You stepped in when none wanted to."

Miggy rubbed his neck as he offered his best comfort words.

"That's what a real father does."

Miguel cleared his throat and turned to face him "We wished we could save everyone."

"But we can't." added Miggy with a solemn face.

"Now you understand why I do what I do?"

"I've always understood that, though guy. Still, is fun to give you shit for it"

Miguel dismissed him with a roll of his eyes, but a newfound level of mutual respect settled between the both.

"Specially when our princesita was caught in the middle of our antics."

"Again, there is no ours in here. Give her space."

"I think we've given her enough of it."

"No."

"Yes"

Miguel grunted, annoyed as he followed him.

-----

"No, no, that's not how you do it."

"It's my turn, I kiss her however the fuck I want to."

Bossman Miguel spoke as he cupped your reddening cheeks, making your flushed lips, that glistened over a new make out session invited him to deliver another desperate and breathless kiss.

Meaty lips guided yours in a pace you've grown to know well, just as Miggy nuzzled your neck playfully. The tip of his nose roaming up and down, for him to give a gentle nip at your earlobe.

You groaned into Miguel's mouth, and whimpered as you begged for air.

How had you ended up in this predicament after such a parkour of emotions displayed between them? Lyla had shown you their conversation, glad at least they learned how to share something that found them a common ground.

And then Miggy had waltzed in your work bay, smothering your lips with a breathtaking kiss as an apology for the troubles caused and it only triggered Miguel, that showed him what a real kiss was.

And now it all resumed into this moment. The three sitting on your couch, that sometimes acted as your bed, taking turns to make out with you.

Miggy's turn arrived as he turned your face, placed a gentle hand on your cheek and kissed you. It was soft and chaste at first, but then his tongue pried your mouth open. Soft and moist muscles fighting for a chance to top you, and he did.

Earning a lovely and delicious mewl from you. Rough and calloused hands roamed up your sides and waist

"Let her go, that's enough"

Miguel grumbled as he had to pry away your needy lips from his counterpart.

"Who did it best, cariño?"

Your head felt like it had detached from your body and floated like a balloon as your Miguel nipped at your neck softly and Miggy mumbled the sweetest things to your ear. You certainly couldn't decide, even if your life depended on it.

"A tie."

Both scowled.

"Guess we'll have to find out differently, then."

Miguel's steely stare fixed on you with a suspicious glint in his eyes, as Miggy licked your earlobe.

Where were the anomalies when you needed them the most?

You gulped at your ongoing demise.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #Miguel x Reader x Punk Miguel #t writes✨#atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara angst

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treysimp · 2 years

Text

"I'm not sure how else to say this, do you want to make out on my couch?"

Part 7/7

GN!Reader x Diasomnia (Malleus, Sebek, Lilia, Silver)

Tags: Smooching, implied mutual pining and suggestive themes, but nothing explicit. Reader is not physically described.

Other works in this series:

Want more TWST? Here's my Masterlist!

“Oh? I’m not sure I am familiar with that term. Do explain, child of man.”

Malleus’ green eyes glitter mischievously as he places his hand on his chin. He cut a handsome figure in the moonlight. The gloss of his horns shined and his chiseled face was gracefully shadowed by his softly-curled hair. He stood eerily still, his composure hinting at his not quite human heritage.

Malleus was the most beautiful thing you had seen in your life. You swallowed audibly before you responded.

“That is… um…” he was messing with you right? You weren’t entirely sure how old he was, but you were certain he was older than you. But he was fae, you supposed. Did they use the same slang? Did they ‘make out’? You had no idea.

Malleus walked closer to you, his white teeth peeking from behind his lips. It was hard not to think about how sharp those fangs looked.

“Proceed, prefect.” He said with a smile, clearly getting a kick out of your hesitation.

“Do… Do you want to kiss me?” You said, voice shaking, all of the confidence you had at the beginning of this interaction evaporating.

Well, it was a bit more than kissing that you were asking him for, but you weren’t sure if you had the courage to spell it out just yet.

“Oh?” Malleus further closed the distance between your two bodies, causing you to step backwards into the door you had been unlocking prior with an audible bump. “A kiss? Where would you like this kiss?”

You could feel his breath on your cheek, his expression coyly hidden from you due to the close proximity of his face.

Finally, Malleus chuckled and kissed the cheek that he had purposely ducked near.

“Here?” He said, clearly holding back a full laugh.

“No.” You shook your head.

You’re glad he wasn’t mad at you, but you weren’t sure what him playing games meant either.

God, why didn’t you crush on a nice human boy? You kind of understood those in comparison. Well... okay you also didn't understand those all that well either.

“I see. Then…” Malleus moved his mouth to your earlobe and lightly pecked along the side of your ear.

You couldn’t contain the shiver that went through your body as your breath sped up from the sensation. It felt mean. He knew exactly what you wanted, you were sure of it.

“Not where I…” You trailed off. Whatever this game meant to him, you were certainly enjoying it.

“Ah, I see, I see…” Malleus moved painfully slow to lightly scrape his teeth across the juncture of your neck.

You felt like you might die happily if you were smited on the spot.

“Here?” He whispered, moist breath causing you to break out in goosebumps.

“My… my lips, Malleus, please…” You shuddered. It was almost painful having him be so close and touch you so gently. You wanted more.

“Oh? My, my, Prefect. Do you care for me so?” He had long stopped hiding his grin. This ass.

Malleus’ hand drifted to the back of your head as he knotted his fingers in your hair. Slowly, so painfully slow, he pulled you towards him. Raising your chin with his thumb, you stared at the way his feline eyes were blown out into almost perfect circles.

Eyes almost completely black, Malleus descended upon you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

It was achingly tender, it felt like more than a kiss.

It felt like words left unsaid, something far larger and more meaningful than a quick peck shared between two awkward young people.

You’d never felt anything like it.

Pulling apart just as slowly as you had come together, Malleus stares into your eyes meaningfully. Stroking your face with his thumb, you are met with an expression so loving that you briefly think of crying from the emotion of it all.

“Is that all, my dear?” Malleus questions.

You shake your head so aggressively you might have cracked your neck if you did so just a smidgen harder.

“No! I want more of you! As much as you’ll give me!” You almost yelled, courage swelling in your chest for a brief moment.

“I’m not sure you understand what you are asking, human.” Malleus says with a cocked brow, “You might want to think twice between asking for something as open-ended as that from a fae.”

“You would never intentionally hurt me.” You state with confidence.

If he really wanted to harm you, he had every opportunity. Instead he helped you, saved you from danger and spent almost every night walking with you and talking about your highs and lows.

If this was just a long con, if he had intended to hurt you this whole time… maybe you deserved it at this point.

Malleus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was trying to tease you of course, but he was only half-kidding.

The problem was that if he started, he wasn’t sure if he could stop. But it looks like you had already made that decision for him.

It was for exactly that reason he loved you so.

“…I accept.”

“…Accept?” What? What was he accepting?

“Your affection.” It felt like his smile could stop your heart. “However…”

Your back straightened as you steeled yourself for his request. What did he want?

“You must accept mine as well.” He stated with a nod, as if agreeing with himself. “And…”

He leaned forward again, lips a millimeter from your own as you swore you saw the smallest amount of smoke escape from between his teeth.

“You must know that my affection comes with a price.” He said, kissing you gently on your forehead.

“I want all of you in return. Immediately.”

Your face burned hotly at the implication.

While you had just been inviting Malleus inside in the hopes of feeling him up a bit, this offer was far better than expected.

You inhaled through your nose and tried to keep your voice as even as you could manage.

“If you’ll have me.”

Grinning, Malleus pushes the door behind you open and ushers you inside the lounge.

“Oh my dear, I will.”

Sebek’s piercing green eyes narrow at you. You find yourself involuntarily shrinking back in intimidation.

Well now you’ve done it, huh?

His right hand firmly grasps your shoulder and you find yourself gulping for fresh air. You would have never described him as scary before now but…

A strand of his perfectly coiffed hair falls onto his forehead as Sebek leans nearer, unblinkingly getting closer and closer to your face.

He murmured your name quietly, and you felt how you imagine prey does in their last precious moments. Thinking of how many loud predators are at their most quiet before unhinging their jaws.

Within the blink of an eye, you were pulled forward by the tie into a stiff, yet gentle kiss.

Sebeks eyes slid back open as he slowly pulled away from you, his gloved hand drifting to cup your cheek.

“It seems I am in quite the predicament!” He huffs, reeling back to his full height as yet another strand of lime hair gently floats to his face.

“You are?” You ask quietly, eyes open wide in anticipation. What kind of mixed signals bull is this?

“Yes. The young master is away on family business, and I am finding myself in need of a place to stay while Master Lilia repairs-“ He coughs and begins his sentence again, “I mean… remodels my room.”

Sebek can’t will himself to make eye contact with you in the slightest, the color on his pale cheeks morphing into a rose-pink blush.

“I see.” You say, playing along with whatever-the-hell-this-is. You dramatically turned your head to the side, putting on a slight theatrical accent to intensify the ren-faire mood of it all.

“Well, you are of course welcome to stay here. I could always use a guard to help me, a poor magic-less human in a big scary haunted house.”

Sebek snaps his gaze back to you and his cat-like pupils widen, shoulders visibly loosening at your agreement. It seems he was more nervous about your reaction than you thought.

“Since… since I am here…” he pauses, clearly thinking on how best to respond.

“I may as well keep you safe!” He finishes smugly, puffing out his chest. Sebek was clearly proud of how he was able to ask to stay at your dorm so gracefully. “A knight would do no less.”

You nodded and tugged him inside, slowly leading him to the couch that you so desperately wanted to touch him on.

Sebek seemed to be scanning his surroundings, but for what, you weren’t sure. Maybe the comment about ghosts really did worry him.

Finding a comfortable seat on the well-worn couch, you pat a spot across from you to beckon him to join.

Sebek takes a seat much in the way you picture a robot might. Well, if you didn’t already know a real one. A robot from the shows of your childhood, specifically.

You hoped that Sebek taking the initiative earlier would help him loosen up, but his back was as stiff as a board as he looked at everything but your face, hands folded politely in his lap and skin shining with a hint of nervous sweat.

“Sebek?” You called quietly, willing him to look at you again.

You noticed that each time he interacted responded he would slightly loosen, as evidenced by his back curving slightly when he leaned forward to peer curiously at you.

Well, you took the initiative to ask him in the first place, so…

Taking one last large breath through your nose, you crawled onto Sebeks lap. Your hands begun getting to work on his fashionably-impractical collar.

It felt like you were undressing a highly realistic statue for a moment, but his eyes gazed up at you as if awestruck, waiting to see what you would do next.

He mumbled your name softly and you couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh, so I’m not ‘human’ anymore, gorgeous?”

Face visibly darkening at your question, Sebek shook his head fervently.

“Not… not when you look like this.” He muttered, unable to will himself to blink. Missing even a second of this moment seemed unthinkable.

You finally finished undoing his complicated jacket and pushed it to the side. His skin seems to almost glimmer under the evening light.

You dropped your head to nibble right under his chin, restraining yourself from laughing when he slapped his hand over his mouth with a gasp.

“Ah… that’s very…” He was writhing slightly, his eyes sliding shut.

“Sebek?” You asked again, teasingly. You were lying if you said that you weren’t tempted to tease him for as long as the night allows.

His gaze turned up at you as he gave the most breathtaking expression of adoration, breath uneven, smile bright yet sheepish.

At this point, his hair had completely fallen on his face, the apples of his cheeks had simmered to a stunning rose, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.

“Yes?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Ah…” he paused, clearly having not thought that far ahead. After a beat, Sebek pressed his mouth into a firm line and looked once more at you like he was making a declaration of war.

“I’m… I’m willing to take responsibility so… even if I… if you want me, you can have me. Any of me.”

You froze in shock. His words had felt so serious that it scared you a little. It really wasn’t like him to be so quiet and thoughtful.

“Even if Malleus said no? Because you had to protect him instead?” You mused out loud.

Sebek’s gaze guiltily shot out to the side, clearly surprised. He did seem to be genuinely trying to contemplate your question though.

It was something that you had said impulsively, but you couldn’t help but be curious. What would he say? You knew that Malleus' wellbeing was his calling in life.

“If Malleus needed me to be by his side… then I guess I would need to take you with me.” He said with a cheeky grin, looking very proud of himself.

You were charmed that he had thought that far ahead, to tell the truth.

Sebek raised his hand to your cheek once more and ushered you forward, placing the other hand on your waist.

“I won’t let my love life-! Ah!” Sebek gasped and sputtered, “My, um, passions…” he corrected himself quickly but clumsily, and you pretended that you didn’t hear the word ‘love’ just now (you did though, and this was going to be burned into your brain for a while).

“...it won’t get in the way of my duty.” Sebek finished firmly, speaking a bit louder than strictly necessary. It seems that he was not yet done with that thought, though.

“While I am fae, I…” He swallowed audibly, bracing himself for what he was about to say.

“I am also just a man and… that part of me right now… wants…” He paused yet again, searching your face for something.

You weren’t even sure if he knew what he was trying to say, but you understood that whatever it was, it was a vulnerable moment for him.

It seemed that he had settled on a different approach as he began his speech again.

“You, out of anyone, knows how much I value loyalty.” He said, tapping his fingertip on your chin. You felt your ears burning at the action, dragging your eyes away from him in a pleasant embarrassment.

“If you are in danger, I will come find you. If you ask me for anything, I will give it.” Sebek’s voice was getting louder as he gained confidence.

“My leige and country will always be a priority but…” His breath was shaky.

You tried to figure out what emotion he was feeling right now, but it was unclear.

“If you’ll have me, if you would be mine tonight…”

“…I hope you are ready for a commitment, my dear human.” He murmured, eyes sliding shut as he moved to shakily kiss you once more.

You were.

“Oh? A cute young thing like you coming onto an old man like me? What will people think, hmm?”

Lilia seemed to be positively tickled by your question. If his age was any indication, you would think he would be very experienced in these interactions. As always, he was very committed to being coy.

“You don't seem to be someone that cares much for what people think, Lilia.” You shot back playfully.

His mischievous nature was a part of him that you were quite fond of. If he wanted you to play along, you were more than willing to do so.

Lilia’s shoulders shook with quiet giggles, “I want to make sure to give you a fair warning, lovely Prefect.” He shrugged and let out a dramatic sigh.

“I suppose my boyish good looks can sometimes distract from the fact I am a father of three, you know.”

Calling himself a father of three when the trio in-question looked older than he did made you want to laugh, but you knew that he meant that statement sincerely.

“I like to think I’m good with kids,” You said, raising an eyebrow. “And I’m into DILFS.”

Now Lilia’s chuckles had turned into full on shaking laughter, tears of joy brimming in the corner of his eyes.

“I’ll never stop being impressed by the new slang of the times. You are aware that I do know what that stands for, yes? Are you broadcasting your true intentions, my little Prefect?” Lilia seemed to know that while you had already spilled your overall wants to him, this was probably a bit more forward than you had intended at the moment.

“And if it is?” You replied stiffly. Why does he keep answering questions with questions? It was infuriating.

“Hmm…” Lilia tapped his chin with his finger in thought, “I’m a little too old for one-offs at my age.” He trailed off.

“So, if you are serious… I will oblige.”

His smile split his face and his fangs peeked enticingly over his lips. You audibly gulped, suddenly being hit with the embarrassment and nervousness that you had been desperately trying to choke down.

You were positive that you wanted him. You had thought of every single perk and drawback and decided that no matter what they were, you were absolutely smitten with the mysterious and playful man.

Now, faced with that romantic reality being a possibility, you felt like fainting. Your dreamy fantasies always cut themselves off after you confessed, as it all felt too absurd to keep dwelling on them.

Those doubts sure didn’t stop you from shooting your shot, though.

Lilia moved closer to you slowly, carefully, in a way that felt almost too graceful to be natural. Somehow he seemed to be just the barest bit taller than he had been just a moment ago. You pushed that odd thought away from the forefront of your mind. Maybe it was just your imagination.

Sparing a moment to briefly glance at Lilia’s feet to check that he wasn’t floating again, you found yourself about to scream when your eyes had flicked back up and Lilia was directly in front of you. Behaving like a horror movie jump scare was a hobby of Lilia’s that you didn’t know if you could ever quite get used to. Your flinch made Lilia look as amused as ever. You thought that pranking you would get old, but apparently not.

It’s rude to play with your food, you thought. Wait… why did that of all phrases come to mind?

Gingerly reaching your shaking hand forward, you combed the ends of your fingers into Lilia’s unnaturally-colored bob. Eyes sliding closed, the boy looked like a pleased cat before it got too overstimulated and bit you on the hand.

Your movements briefly froze at the thought of how soft his hair felt, and yet how his cold skin contrasted with the sensation.

He looked the most inhuman you had ever seen him. Lilia’s bright pupils were constricted into thin slits and his skin almost seemed to be glowing in the evening light.

It felt dangerous, it felt thrilling. It felt both like you should both be afraid and that you had been waiting your whole life for this moment.

It was like you would be safe from any danger, but not because of anything that you controlled. You were safe only due to the fact that the greatest danger of all was almost purring into your hand in affection.

Lilia seemed to be waiting for you as he held his serene smile and continued his ever-so-slight nuzzling into your touch. You supposed his patience was because time meant something a little different to him than it did to you.

Steeling yourself, you placed a soft peck on his lips, chastely pulling away to see his reaction. Lilia’s hand stopped you from getting too far, and you were pulled back to his cool and smooth mouth.

Keeping your whimpers at bay as your lower lip caught on his fangs with a soft scrape. There was a spicy-sweet sting on your tender skin, it was the first bit of heat that his body had allowed.

“I need a little more than that, love.” He murmured against your lips, pushing and pulling you back and forth like the ocean playing with the sand before a large wave came up to swallow a few feet more of the coast.

He was a good kisser, you thought. Any other ideas swiftly melted away when met with Lilia’s experienced ministrations.

Slowly, carefully, you both separated from each other. Lilia looked incredibly pleased, trailing his hands down your back to pull you ever closer.

You shivered, both from the coolness of his body and from the warmth spreading through your own.

“Is this really what you want?” Lilia asked, his eyes meeting yours with a meaningful gaze.

As hazy with lust as your mind was, something was bugging you again. Did he look just a bit taller? Was his hair just slightly longer?

It felt like something was changing, but that passing thought made you feel a bit crazy.

Were you imagining things because you knew that magic and fae were real? It wasn’t impossible.

After that long trail of distraction, you finally reply.

“It is.” You said, leaning closer to him in the hopes of feeling his skin on yours again.

Lilia’s eyes flickered with a new emotion, and he nodded firmly as he stared into your eyes.

“I hope you know what agreements like that mean to a fae.” He whispered, pushing you inside of your humble abode.

You were going to learn a lot about this topic tonight, Lilia would make sure of it.

Silver’s auroreal eyes were wide, he looked like you had hit him up the side of his head with one of his training swords.

“Make out? With me? On your couch?”

He was perhaps more awake than he had felt in years, his ears aflame and his usual serious demeanor slipping into something much more socially awkward and bewildered.

“Yes.” There was no backing out now. You had been desperately dropping hints to Silver that you were interested in him for months, and this was your final hope that he was just being oblivious this whole time.

You had attended his knight training when he invited you (which gave you a great view of how toned his lean arms were) you asked him to let you ride along on his broom during PE (since he was soooo good as horseback riding and all) and you had spent a ton of time learning how to make sweets and treats to try and earn his favor (you figured that he had enough of Lilia’s ‘healthy’ recipies).

You made physical contact whenever you could, taking great joy in the first time that the beautiful boy had fallen asleep on your shoulder. You had to hold back the giggles that wanted to spill out of you when you spotted the squirrels and deer that tentatively walked closer to watch Silver sleeping soundly. It was so sweet, you would never get tired of seeing how much animals loved him.

Even Grim was especially attached to Silver, toddling after him whenever you three spent time together. Whenever you asked Grim why he was so obsessed with Silver, he would either fervently deny it, or say something along the lines of ‘observing him’ and then insult you. It was cute regardless.

As much as your little not-tanuki bestie talked smack, he really did have some things in common with all the cute deer that shyly watched you two sitting on an outdoor bench. Silver's body sleepily swaying in the breeze just like the willows in the distance.

All of those quiet moments were what did it for you.

One time you both sat in the library and Silver was barely keeping his head up while he added his own notes to your sloppily-kept handwritten potion instructions. You couldn’t help but be charmed by how hard he was working to stay awake to help you.

Once he was done adding his notes and corrections, Silver had softly patted you on the shoulder to tell you that he was done. He was sleepily smiling down at you, and while he was always a bit quiet, you could hear his next murmur crystal clear.

“…proud of you.”

You were fucked. How could you not love him?

In this moment, unlike the heavy and unfocused smiles he had awarded you in the library, Silver’s eyes were sharply narrowed and quizzical.

He seemed to be analyzing you. It was the same look you saw on his face when you had a shared history class and he was concentrating on an particularly in-depth essay.

Even scarier than that, it was the look he made right before he won a practice duel.

It made you slightly uneasy, to tell the truth.

“You like me?” He asked finally.

“Silver... I don’t know how I could make it more obvious than I have.” You said with clear exasperation and tiredness. “I ask you out every week, I spend all the time I can spare with you, and I told you I loved you last Thursday.” You snapped.

You weren’t angry, you could never be angry at him, but you were exhausted.

“Ah…” Silver’s face was slowly heating up. You felt like your jaw could hit the floor. He really hadn’t noticed, apparently.

“...I thought you meant like… f-friends or family…” He muttered, seeming to be mid-crisis at how oblivious he had been. You sighed.

“Look. To be completely straightforward: I like you. It’s probably more than that at this point.” You inhaled shakily, “It’s okay if you need time but…”

You bit your lip, idly wondering just how much pressure you could put on your skin before it bled.

Maybe this would be easier if he rejected you at this point. Maybe you could get him out of your head and stop convincing yourself that this was a possibility. Maybe you could talk yourself out of loving him.

“You don’t have to answer now. You can take your time, I just…” you trailed off in dejection, “I just wanted to make sure you knew”.

You began opening the front door to go inside. You didn’t want to run away, but you also weren’t sure how long you could have this conversation without crying.

If he didn’t like you ,that was one thing. But you don’t know if you’d ever been more frustrated in your life. What else were you supposed to do?

You felt something warm circling your wrist.

Silver held your forearm calmly, staring at you in silence. His gaze was intense, a look you had never quite seen before written across his face.

“Don’t go.” He said firmly, slightly squeezing his hand to emphasize the point. You couldn’t look away from that small touch that connected you both.

“Okay.”

You stopped turning away and just waited, looking at him. Taking in his halo of soft hair, the way his jaw tightened. You wanted to reach forward and gently trace every fleck of the evening light that graced his elegant face. You would wait forever for him if he needed it.

“Please let me… please let me take you up on that offer.”

You felt like you could both throw up and win a Spelldrive Tournament by yourself at the same time.

“…really?”

And that concludes part 1 of The Couch Series! Did it live up to your expectations? Are there other sorts of series you would like to see with everyone? Just the first years, just the Housewardens, the staff?

Let me know! Thank you all for your support and look forward to more to come (including continuations of these, as well).

Thank you reader, love you!

3K notes · View notes

fourmoony · 5 months

Note

hey! saw you asking for reqs

how about james "oh, the consequences of bad decisions" potter x ravenclaw "i hate how much you acting like an idiot makes me want to make out with you" reader

reader always getting him out of trouble with their critical thinking skills

thanks for requesting lovely!

james x f!reader | 1k | cw: language | Masterlist

You honestly think James Potter, as handsome as he may be, is the thickest, stupidest, idiotic boy you've ever met.

Even as he's being led on what's supposed to be a walk of shame out of the great hall by the scruff of the neck by McGonagall, he's still got that stupidly adorable lopsided grin stretched wide across his face and a triumphant look in his eyes. It's not the first time James (and his merry band of Marauders) have caused chaos in the great hall during meal time and it definitely won't be the last, but there's something in the way that only he has been caught - Remus, Sirius, and Peter are nowhere to be found, strangely enough - that pulls a frown out of you.

The Slytherin's are head to toe in pink, fluffy robes, matching rather well with the bunny rabbit ears that seem to be glued to their heads, running around as though the predicament is causing them physical pain and terror, but you can't find it in yourself to be amused when James has been caught red handed and is being dragged off by McGonnagal right in front of you. Though, he doesn't seem to care if the pleased look on his face is anything to go by.

It takes you all of two seconds to come up with a plan, standing and running after your professor and James. You don't excuse yourself from the table, but you doubt the girls will mind. They're already rounding the corner out of the great hall by the time you catch up, feet thumping on the concrete floor in your hurry. You can hear McGonagall speaking in sharp tones about how James has taken it too far this time, he's always taking it too far, and she's not even sure how to begin punishing him for this.

James Potter is an idiot. Everyone knows this. He's smart - which is the kicker. He passes all his classes with ease, always hands his homework in on time, helps first years with their essays, and can point you to almost any book in the library. He's well educated. But he's an idiot. He doesn't use common sense, doesn't know when enough is enough, and he pulls off reckless and dangerous pranks without a second thought. You shouldn't be so attracted to it. You shouldn't feel your heart beating out of your chest every time you see his signature 'I'm about to do something really dumb, right now' smile and you shouldn't come running to his rescue every time he gets caught.

But the thing about James Potter is - as much as he's an idiot, as stupid and reckless and arrogant and annoying as he is, he's also charming. And handsome. And lovely. And beautiful. And pretty. He has a heart the size of the black lake, even though he has an ego to match. And you can't help it. He's just so.

"Professor!" You call after them, close enough to not really have to shout, but you need to at least play the part convincingly.

There's a classroom on the 7th floor corridor. It's been infested with Cornish Pixies for years, sealed off by McGonagall herself. Everyone knows that's why the classroom is abandoned, and for years, everyone has stayed as far away from it as possible. McGonagall turns around in a flash, murmuring an apology to James who trips over his footing to avoid twisting the arm that's still firmly in her grip.

"I just overheard some of the Slytherin's saying they were going to release the Cornish Pixies from the seventh floor in retaliation!" You fake heave a breath, to make it sound like the utmost of importance.

It helps, you think, that a group of yelling Slytherins pass behind you, heading straight for the stair case in their fluffy pink robes. A smirk passes across James' face, a knowing one, and it makes your knees wobble and your cheeks redden. He's an evil boy, because he notices, and you see the interest sparkle in his eyes.

McGonagall goes pale, and lets go of James at once, eyes wide, "Thank you for telling me," She turns to James, who has the audacity to look guilty, now, "I'll find you later, Mr. Potter."

James nods and waits until the professor has swept off up the stairs in a hurry before he's dragging you behind one of the tapestries. You go willingly, enjoying the warmth of his fingers on your wrist, the smell of his cologne, woodsy and sweet at the same time. He turns and faces you when the tapestry swishes closed behind you both, crowding your space in an instant.

"Are the Slytherins really going to release the Pixies?"

You feel your face redden, "No."

His jaw ticks as he smiles, "You just saved me from a right rollocking, you know that?"

You absolutely detest this part. The part where he makes sure you know just how weak you are for him, how willing you are to abide his boyish pranks as long as he gets you in this situation; flushed and kissable. You hate how much you want him to kiss you, how needy it makes you feel.

"Shut up and kiss me, James. Before McGonagall comes back and gives us both detention."

His lips are on yours in an instant, hot and heavy and rushed and the breath gets caught in your throat. His right hand sits firm on your jaw, thumb pressing into your pulse point, and his right grips at the side of your hip, holding you close to him. James is a good kisser. It's a sick and twisted fact, and you think that a part of you knows whenever you come to rescue him from whatever consequences amount from his own stupid actions, the fact that it always ends like this is what keeps you coming back.

He's got you pushed up against the wall, his weight pressing down on you, right leg between yours and you're finding it hard to remember yourself.

Until Sirius appears, letting out an undignified yelp as he yanks the tapestry closed. Apparently, it garners Remus' attention, who's eyes are curious when he finds you and James sheepishly standing side by side, lips swollen and cheeks red.

"Subtle." He says, swinging the tapestry closed behind him as he goes to console Sirius.

#marauders #james potter #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #marauders era #sirirus black #remus lupin #fourmoonys asks

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photogirl894 · 1 month

Note

Hi ! I hope you are okay !

I hope you don't mind requesting again :)

I was wondering if I could make a Crosshair x reader request with the following prompts from your romance/fluff prompts list

2. what did I do to deserve you ?

35. I love you with all my heart

Have a good day/night ❤️

Hey there, Cora! Sorry it took me so long to get to this other request of yours! I hope it's to your liking 😊

***Slight spoilers for TBB s3 ep8, but nothing really people don't know about at this point***

"A Healer's Touch"

2. "What did I do to deserve you?"

35. "I love you with all my heart."

Pairing: Crosshair x fem reader

***

All the years you'd lived on Pabu, you thought were the happiest you had ever been. You lived in an island paradise, surrounded by the most loving and accepting community you'd ever known and you had a job that you enjoyed most days. Everything felt just right and you thought you had it all.

Until one day, Clone Force 99, whom you had befriended, returned to the island with their long-lost brother...Crosshair.

You knew they had a brother who had sided with the Empire, but months ago, they'd tried to rescue him...which was when so many things went wrong for them. They failed in trying to find Crosshair, Tech had been lost and Omega had been captured. For the following months, Hunter and Wrecker; the only two left, had spent so much time away from Pabu, following multiple leads and scouring the galaxy for their siblings. It made you immensely happy when they returned with both Omega and Crosshair.

While all of the Clone brothers were handsome in your eyes, there was just something more alluring about Crosshair that caught your attention the first time you saw him. Maybe it was the intensity in his face or the way he stood tall with pride or maybe...it was the darkness and hidden sorrow you could see behind his eyes when his brothers introduced him to you. Even though you didn't know any specifics and despite his best efforts to hide it, you could tell that the Empire had utterly broken him.

In the months Hunter and Wrecker had been out back and forth so much, you'd started training with the local nurse and had become a rather talented nurse and healer yourself. When you'd learned Crosshair had some hand tremors that were starting to cause him slight pain, you offered to take a look at it for him. He'd been quite reluctant at first, but Omega insisted, to which he relented. While you initially couldn't determine the exact cause behind the tremors, the best you could do at the time was give him a balm that could at least help soothe the discomfort.

After that, everything changed.

He kept coming back for more of the ointment for his hand and to have you check it when it seemed things were getting worse, still a bit begrudgingly for a bit. At one point, you were examining his hand when it started shaking in the middle of it and you instinctively reached out and took it in your own, grasping it tightly. Just as you realized what you'd done and were about to let go and apologize, he curled his fingers around your hand in return and it was the first time you saw the hint of a smile from him...a smile that sent you falling head over heels for him in an instant.

Soon after, he started coming around just to see you instead of out of concern for his hand. His brothers would go on missions and leave him and Omega behind to keep them safe from the Empire and he would come to spend time with you instead of dying from boredom or after spending a good while training or being with Omega for a bit. He'd watch you work and make small talk when you weren't busy. You enjoyed his company and he seemed to enjoy yours, too. If ever his hand began shaking when you were together, you would hold his hand gently and it would calm him almost right away. You were grateful to know that you were helping him in more ways than just giving him something for the pain the tremors caused him. He seemed more at ease when he was with you physically and emotionally. You couldn't quite understand why, but it didn't matter. He chose willingly almost every day to see you. It felt as though there was an unspoken thing between you, but you were never sure if it was right to bring it up. Perhaps, one day, after he'd adjusted more.

You were a lost cause, though, because in all that time, you had fallen hopelessly and completely in love with him.

There was a day you were out walking around Pabu as the sun was beginning to set when you saw him down on the beach...meditating, to your surprise, but you couldn't help but smile. Then you decided you would go down and see him, so you made your way to the beach.

As you walked up behind him, he suddenly said without turning around, "I was hoping I'd see you today...but I didn't expect it to be here."

You were about to ask how he knew you were there, but...it was Crosshair. He just somehow knew these things. It was like he had enhanced sense of his own. Instead, you replied, sitting beside him, "I didn't expect to see you meditating. When did this start?"

"Omega showed me a while ago," he answered.

"That explains why your hand hasn't been shaking so much. It seems to be helping," you commented.

He simply hummed in response and inhaled deeply and slowly before exhaling through his mouth. You watched him carefully as he breathed, taking in every inch of his profile. The way he almost glowed in the golden evening light, how peaceful he looked...your heart felt warmer than your skin did in the Pabu sun. You looked down at his hand next to you; the one with the tremors that you always held. You reached down and took his hand once again in yours and he immediately grasped your hand back. He didn't break his meditation, but you did see a small smile slowly creep up on his lips as you took his hand and his shoulders seemed to relax even more.

There was a small moment of content silence between you before Crosshair asked, "What did I do to deserve you?" You were a bit surprised at the question and then he finally opened his eyes and looked at you, a softness in his gaze that made you melt inside.

"I don't understand," you replied.

"You've showed me more kindness than I feel I've earned. You waste your time with me when you could be doing anything else or be with someone else," he told you.

"I don't see it as a waste of time. I never have," you said back to him, gripping his hand tighter. "You deserve love and care as much as anyone else."

He turned his head away, saying in a low voice, "Who would love someone like me?"

Hearing him ask such a question made you want to cry at how little he thought of himself, especially when you thought the world of him. It was then you decided he needed to know how you truly felt.

You leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, whispering as you pulled away, "I would...and I do."

Crosshair turned to you, his eyes wide with shock at what you were implying yet there was still a gentleness in them that shone even brighter in the sunset.

With a smile, you nodded at him and stated, "I love you, Crosshair. I really do. I love you with all my heart."

Even though he still looked surprised at what he was hearing, his eyes flickered down briefly to your lips before gazing back into your eyes. Then he let go of your hand and reached up to caress your cheek, whispering your name as he did so. He leaned forward and then pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss, eliciting a soft sigh from you as you immediately returned the gesture.

After he pulled away, he rubbed your cheek with his thumb, looking deeply still into your eyes. "And I love you with all of my heart," he told you back, "...a heart that you have helped heal just as much as my hand."

Photogirl894's Fluff/Romance prompts

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#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch crosshair #bad batch prompts #crosshair x reader #photogirl894 1000 followers

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fayes-fics · 6 months

Text

Enthralled

Pairings: Vampire!Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader x Thomas Dorset

Summary: You and your new husband invite a handsome stranger to your rooms, but all is not as it seems...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, dom/sub undertones, bisexual male characters, slash content, oral sex (f to m, m to m, m to f) blow jobs, deepthroat w smidge of breathplay, facesitting, edging/orgasm control, vaginal sex, anal sex, simultaneous penetration, multiple orgasms, biting, bloodplay, blood-drinking.

Word Count: 9k

Authors Note: The reader remix of this story. A gothic-ish Halloween threesome with Vampire!Benedict. This is my first foray into writing slash content. If you are looking for a plot or backstory, this will likely disappoint; it's just an excuse for vaguely spooky, unrelenting smut - I cannot celebrate a holiday any other way lol. I wanted to choose a minor show character as the husband, and Dr Dorset screams secretly adventurous to me. Please heed the warnings above; this is pretty full-on. If you proceed, I hope you enjoy! <3

Credits: Thanks to @colettebronte for advice and betaing and @eleanor-bradstreet for her Vampiric expertise. Artwork includes edits made weeks ago for this story by our dearly departed @bridgertontess. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Benedict smells it long before he ever sees you.

Fresh blood, sweet young bodies in the flushes of arousal; it makes him hungry in every sense of the word. The almost painful need to feast and fuck. He inhales deep, lewdly, letting the tempting scents fill his being. He pulls on his cloak and goes out to find you.

—

Mrs Dorset.

You practice the name, sitting at the vanity table of your rooms at the inn, feeling cosy in the soft candlelight glow as the autumnal wind howls portentously beyond the window. The quill scratches the paper as you loop the letters, learning the structure of your new name as it flows under your hand.

“What are you doing, my love?” Thomas rounds behind you, returning to your rooms with steaming hot tea as promised.

“I am practising my new name,” you reply proudly, twisting to look up at your husband of merely two days as he places aside the tea tray, squeezing your shoulders lightly.

“Oh, I see, that is… well, that is wonderful,” his cadence wavering. It seems as if he is embarrassed at how something as simple as your desire to write his name could make him burn physically, the glistening, dark, looped strokes causing a primal wash of possession. His fingers flex instinctually, mapping your collarbone, your flesh irresistible under his fingertips. You squeak as he rocks his body into your back, something insistent pressing into your spine.

“Husband,” you drawl, meeting his eye in the vanity mirror. “Are you aroused?” Your question isn't judgemental, but pure curiosity and desire, leaning back into him.

“Yes, darling wife. You have my name. It is…. Appealing,” he answers honestly, a touch winded, his fingers trailing lower over your warm skin onto the swell of your breast.

Your eyes flash in the reflection, and then suddenly, you spin around on the stool and bury your face into his trousers, nuzzling his hardness. His growl is deep and wracked. So utterly undone by how forthright you can be with your intentions.

You look up at him, fluttering your eyelids as you pluck open his trousers determinedly, push down his underwear, and wrap your hands around the back of his thighs to draw him even closer. Immediately you encase his tasty warm cock in your mouth, so very keen for him.

He groans to the ceiling as if disbelieving in his luck.

—

Benedict finds himself outside the quaint country inn barely a quarter mile from his country home. No wonder he could smell it so strong.

As he stares up at a mullioned window, russet leaves swirling around his feet on this cold, crisp night, he sees the glowing candlelight signifying the room’s occupation. Indeed, it is the only one lit as such on the first floor. He surmises the couple are likely newlyweds, perhaps passing through the area on their honeymoon—the first ones who have done so since he was turned a few months back.

While he has trained himself on the scent of the people in the proximal area and taught himself they are not food, he is powerless to resist this. Them. From scent alone, they are in their twenties, and right now, they are engaging in something carnal. He can smell ripe juices swirling in the air along with the thronging of their hearts, blood coursing. It makes his cock strain painfully against the wool of his britches.

He never used to be like this—a creature of such base instinct. Yes, when human, he had his fair share of lovers of all persuasions, but it had been an occasional bacchanalian indulgence. Now. Now, he can barely contain himself. His tongue licks around the point of his fang, tasting the air, knowing without a doubt they will be under his thrall within moments of meeting and lost in a temporary reverie of how he will enjoy them.

—

“Y/n….” it’s throaty, raw, wrecked, a hand buried in your locks.

His taste is strong in your mouth as Thomas flops back upon the bed, utterly sated after he finds completion. You had pushed him backwards from the vanity table onto the edge of the bed and sunk to your knees before him, eagerly taking him into your mouth, motions wanton, brazen, your skill and enthusiasm blossoming under his few days of tutelage. Learning his body and needs; learning to use your tongue in ways that make him breathless and unerringly grateful.

You delicately wipe your chin of his seed with a handkerchief and rise to your feet as gracefully as you can as he lays there panting, staring at the velvet drapes over the four-poster bed, his mind blanked out from pleasure.

“Husband,” you coo in a light tease, “I do believe it is now time we took dinner; 'tis nearing 7pm.”

Thomas pouts, looking as if he wants to feast only upon you, not mere food. The grumble in his stomach, though, gives away his status, and your giggle makes him sit up reluctantly, tucking himself back into his trousers and righting his clothes.

“I suppose sustenance is required,” he smiles indulgently, standing up and wrapping you in his arms. “If only to provide energy for our later activities,” he adds teasingly into your ear; a light shiver runs through your being as he says it.

“Then let us eat, Dr Dorset,” you murmur into his jaw, running a hand down his waistcoat. Feeling light as air, you gigglingly tumble down the hallway and staircase to the public house below, wrapped up in each other’s arms, barely noticing the tall, cloaked figure as it slips in through the main door.

—

Benedict nods to Jenkins, the publican and innkeeper behind the bar; locals always having an open invitation to drink and dine any night of the week. Tonight, the public house is deserted save for a regular - drunkard Willie, propping up the corner of the bar as ever - and the newlywed couple now ensconced in an alcove by the roaring fireplace.

He sets eyes upon you both properly, and his insides almost feel warm. You are both beautiful in ways that make him ache. The man is tall, fair of face and built handsomely. You are just his type of woman physically with a spirited mien that looks like you would be the very best kind of challenge to tame. He longs to strip you both naked and run his tongue down your healthy contours, revel in your bodies, coursing with life.

Taking the brandy awaiting him on the bar, he glides towards you, flicking up his velvet collar as he does so, knowing of his powers and how to wield them to his advantage when needs must.

“Welcome to Wiltshire,” his opening gambit, smooth and dusky, raising his glass.

Both you and Thomas look up, startled at a handsome stranger’s interruption to your intimate conversation. Still, Benedict doesn't miss for a second how both of your eyes dilate rapidly.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Thomas Dorset stumbles, raising his glass without thought in a silent responding toast.

“Please call me Benedict. May I join you?” his ask is unfaulteringly polite, but with a lopsided grin, he has long learned is his ticket to everything he may want in this world.

Dorset immediately gestures for him to do so, despite himself, and Benedict slides smoothly onto the bench seat across from them with a dramatic swish of his ample velvet cloak.

“And you are?” he smiles at you both expectantly.

“Oh, where are my manners!?” Thomas decries as if snapping back to reality. “I am Dr Thomas Dorset, and this,” his arm wraps tighter around your shoulders, “is my wonderful new wife, Mrs y/n Dorset.”

You smile at Benedict; he can sense your apprehension at this stranger joining them but also hears your heart fluttering just a fraction harder as he meets your gaze. Can smell the uptick in your bodily response, a new tang to your natural scent that speaks of piqued interest. He knows with just a few well-deployed lingering looks and chosen words, he could throw you over the table right here in front of your husband and fuck you so well you would beg him for more. Again, he is grateful for the cloak he wears, hiding the bulge in his clothing that has barely slaked since your arrival to the area.

“It is so wonderful to meet you both,” he drawls, running a finger over his bottom lip to draw attention to his mouth. If you stare long enough, the thrall will be so easy. “What brings you to our fine village?”

“We are passing through on our way to Cornwall for our honeymoon,” Dorset confirms what Benedict already suspected.

“This is rather off the beaten path to such a place,” Benedict states dryly with a wink, knowing he is reeling you in with every word he utters.

“Indeed,” Thomas concedes, “my new wife insisted we come via this route to allow us to call upon her sister during our journey.”

Benedict smiles, subtly scenting your bodies as you and Thomas lean in without realising, falling under his spell.

“Well then, I insist I purchase your dinner and drinks this evening,” he declares, watching bemused as you both attempt to remonstrate. “I will not accept no for an answer,” he appends, victory glowing as you acquiesce, not realising this will be the first of many permissions you will grant him tonight, all being well.

—

You chew upon the venison slowly, one eye on your additional party, still unsure why he has chosen to join you and, indeed, pay for your meal when he apparently is not eating himself. Engaging you in conversation that seems peculiarly beguiling and dangerous all at once.

He is undoubtedly attractive. Hazy blue eyes under a mass of chestnut hair, a pale-skinned face with exquisite sharp lines. Feeling guilty to admit it silently, you find him just as attractive as your husband, maybe more so—something so hypnotic in how he holds himself, moves, and speaks. Finding yourself drawn to him, a stirring in your underwear that you swear he can sense. Every time a little frisson runs through your body, his head unerringly swings towards you, a slight curl in his luscious lip, like he is smelling your arousal and thinks it the tastiest treat in the world.

You could swear he is trying to steal you from your husband - and to your horror, you realise you would absolutely let him - except… his attention is just as rapt upon Thomas. Benedict’s gaze is just as covetous when he speaks. His tongue flicks the corner of his mouth as your husband casually leans back and crosses his legs—as if Benedict is scenting his body, too. It's confusing but intoxicating, as if your wine is laced with a far more potent substance.

—

Benedict knows he has won you both over before you put down your dessert spoons, now hanging on his every word.

“Let us repair to somewhere more intimate for a nightcap,” he suggests, and your joint responding consent is instant. “How about your rooms here at the Inn?”

Were you in your sound, sober minds, it seems unlikely you would invite a stranger to your rooms, but as it is, you enthusiastically do. Benedict snags the remainder of the brandy bottle from the bar as he settles the bill.

“Friends of yours?” Jenkins frowns, vaguely intrigued.

“Everyone is a friend yet to be made, Jenkins,” Benedict answers, intentionally vague.

Jenkins rolls his eyes. “Bloody poets…” he is heard to mutter under his breath, but Benedict lets it pass. If the man invoked the name Byron, perhaps he wouldn't have. Might have stolen a chicken or two from the coup outside to exsanguinate in revenge.

Benedict trails behind you, both pleasantly inebriated now, holding the wood panelling as you negotiate the narrow corridors of the inn to your rooms, inhibitions lowered. He knows you are just in that sweet spot where you will be so open to suggestions but not so out of your minds to be a pointless fuck, unable to respond. There is nothing less appealing to him than a lifeless, limp, unconscious being. Yes, easy to feed upon, perhaps, but no challenge. The only thrill he gets these days is that of the chase. Of the crackling potential of any moment, human hearts beating wildly in his presence, blood pumping hard—that is what brings him exhilaration.

—

Dorset fumbles the heavy iron key in the lock, leaning into you as you giggle along with him. The attractive, imposing man stood patiently behind you, seemingly sober, which is impressive given he drank more than you both. Still unsure what is possessing him to allow this, Thomas nevertheless feels compelled to do this man’s bidding, to allow this whatever he wishes.

It may be a secret he has kept from you, but Dorset is not immune to the charms of a handsome man. In his youthful days at Cambridge, he had many a clandestine encounter with his fellow students. Late drunken nights of experimentation. He knows the power of a man’s touch, enjoying the taboo feeling of being taken roughly, clawing the mattress as he is mounted without mercy. A man's body may differ greatly from a woman’s, but it is no less of an attractive wonderland.

Little does he know just how soon you will learn of that predilection.

—

You twirl around the room as the men take a seat and pour more liquor, feeling ebullient, basking in the heat of the fire on this cold autumn night, dizzy and fizzling with energy. You feel the gaze of both men, knowing both track your moments from the wingtip chairs they inhabit. Your insides feel ripe and pulpy, compelling you to be daring, a peculiar impulse to strip and dance naked in front of them.

There must have been something in my drink. Surely?

Your husband interrupts just as you think to act.

“Darling, come sit with us,” Thomas appeals, patting his knee enticingly.

He would never typically invite you to sit upon him in the company of a stranger, but everything about tonight feels different, so you allow yourself to be swept into it. To see what may arise with the handsome, mysterious visitor.

You float over and sigh as you fall into Thomas’ lap, the heat of his leg seeping through your dress, warming your bottom. He pulls you snugly into his lap, bumping a stirring hardness and without a doubt, you know this evening will go somewhere you never expected…. And yet, you can't wait for it to do so.

“Isn't my wife beautiful?” Dorset slurs, his breath hot on your ear, turning you both to face Benedict in the chair next to you as if he is seeking his approval for his choice of spouse.

“Indeed she is,” Benedict responds, dark and silky, a shiver tracing down your spine as he voices it. “As are you handsome, good sir,” he adds, and you know they are very much out of your depth as you feel the same shudder pass through your husband's being beneath you.

Oh, good lord, who is this man?

—

Benedict sees you reacting to his voice, sees the ripple in your beings, hears it in your breathing, and knows he has you fully enthralled. You are his to do precisely as he wants now. Tumbling images flash through his mind as to how he can have both of your bodies—sweat and skin, blood and bone, moving together in a carnal symphony.

His instinct is to take you and then your husband. He can see the willingness there, but he’ll need more enticing to allow that dormant flame to be relit. Perhaps watching you, his new wife, give yourself so readily will be just the nudge he needs to submit, also.

So when Thomas turns to Benedict, offering you on the plate that is his lap, he decides this is the moment to strike. Downing the rest of his glass, he stands and tugs at the string of his velvet cape, which falls to the floor with a heavy whump… to reveal his fitted cropped jacket and tight britches, tailored in black fabric like a second skin, giving away everything about what he has to offer.

He hears your sharp inhales at the unmistakable tented outline.

“Desire is such a funny thing, is it not?” he rumbles, moving closer, and your legs fall apart on instinct, the air suddenly filled with a potent scent of your arousal that makes his tongue itch to taste.

“In what way?” Thomas hitches, his hands grabbing your waist reflexively as Benedict can hear his heartbeat in his breathy cadence.

“You both want me, and yet you offer your wife to me first,” Benedict assesses cooly, raising an eyebrow as he takes a step closer, watching you squirm as your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

“I did nothing of the sor…” Thomas’s response dies on the spot as one long, slender finger lands on his lips, hushing him, a sharp fingernail resting under his nose.

“We both know you did,” Benedict argues laconically, “And lucky for you…” Benedict almost chuckles as you gasp when his other hand cups your jaw. “…She wants me too. Right now, her thighs are soaked with delicious slickness; I can smell it,” he states casually, holding you both.

“Is that true?” Thomas inquires, side-eying you but not moving under Benedict's finger.

“Yes,” you exhale shakily, unable to peel your gaze from Benedict's face now he has tilted your jaw up to him. “I want him, husband,” you confess raggedly, not knowing why you are voicing it. “And I want you to watch, to participate.”

Benedict chuckles again. “Of course, you do, little one. You love him, even if you are tempted by the fruit of another.” He traces a knuckle down over your chin, your throat, where your pulse is beating wildly, pausing on your clavicle. You know your eyes are wide and beseeching, begging for more.

Benedict swings his gaze to Thomas, then leans in. “If you truly love your wife, you will kiss me right now,” he taunts, his lips hovering so close, “give her a good show; I need her trembling before I take her.”

Come on, sweet prince, dance with me.

—

Thomas can barely comprehend what is transpiring. But he doesn't want to fight it. The man’s finger is cool on his lip as he poses the question. You are writhing deliciously in his lap, making his cock swell painfully against the cleft of your bottom. The next decision is inevitable, fated.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

He gently purses his lips and gives permission by bussing a featherlight kiss onto Benedict’s finger. The predatory smile that unfurls across the man’s face doesn't seem human, more akin to creature than man.

Then his jaw is tilted back, and his world swims as the man closes the few inches between their faces and kisses him. It's biting, hungry, desperate. A skilled tongue rolls over his, and Thomas feels a groan bubble up from deep inside. Possessed, overwhelmed, taken. Benedict tastes like sin but something odd like decay, too, at the edges of the fragrant brandy—some tart undercurrent that is wholly otherworldly and unnerving.

Thomas feels as much as he hears your moan. Feels the weight of your gaze glued to their faces, no doubt seeing a peak of their tongues entwining. Feels the weight of your body in his lap, moving rhythmically, grinding insistently, tilting your hips forward brazenly to drag your clit over the creases in his trousers. Your shameless want and desire are potent and arousing. Even as Benedict’s kiss steals his breath, a faint voice in his head gnaws about your actions being as inexplicable as his, but it's mostly drowned out by the roar of blood pumping hard in his system, seeming so loud around this man, as if he is in tune with it somehow.

As Benedict pulls back, Thomas's vision swims, awash with sensation. He watches, dazed, as the pale man turns and captures your mouth just as covetously.

—

You have only known the passionate kiss of one man—your husband. Yet a mere three days after your first mind-blowing experience of that, you have another first. Your first kiss with another, a whole other creature, not that you can likely comprehend. Unaware of the dance with death.

When Benedict turns and seizes your lips, you peep in surprise. But he swallows the noise, opening your mouth with his tongue, the kiss instantly intense. It's more of a take than the pliant dance you usually share with Thomas. A plundering that floods your senses and steals every breath from your lungs leaving you feeling shaky, unmoored, and taken somewhere dark that is metallic and brimstone. His kiss seems at once ephemeral and infinite. No wonder your husband looked dazed. As Benedict withdraws, the smile on his face is rapacious.

He suddenly pulls both of you to your feet, like ragdolls for him to puppet. Wrapping you up in a joint embrace, he whispers for you both to strip before releasing you just as swiftly, taking a seat on the edge of the imposing bed. As if in a trance, you begin undoing your own clothing.

“Nuh-uh,” Benedict clucks, holding a halting hand that you instantly obey. “Undress each other, my precious ones,” he elucidates, wanting a show.

Your heart thrums as you turn to your husband and he to you. Invisible strings seem to direct your frantic movements as you paw at each other, fabrics tearing in your swift pursuit of skin. You only stop panting wildly and staring when nothing is left, both frowning in confusion at the flurry and intensity of it.

What on earth just happened?

Uncertainty roils oleaginous in your stomach as if, on a gut level, your body is trying to send a warning signal. Still, at the same time, it feels detached and far away, as if your mind is in another realm, a place of edgy desire and boundless pleasure.

—

“Well, that was quite the brief show,” Benedict pipes up, bemused. “Not that I am complaining,” he adds, smirking, his eyes raking you both greedily as he runs a casual finger down his cheek.

Your bodies are ideal, as he suspected. The man is tall and lithe, not unlike himself, his skin pale and smooth, his cock, aroused and leaking, springing from a small thatch of hair that tapers to a narrow point under his belly button. So far, so similar. His cock is nice, sizeable but not intimidating, and weirdly he feels pleased for the woman. It is not as good as his cock; he's a Bridgerton, for Pete's sake, but entirely up for the task of bringing satisfaction to anyone who interacts with it. You are his ideal shape, your contours reminding him of a violin. And such an apt metaphor, your strings so ripe to be plucked, to be properly played, perhaps for the first time.

But mostly, what he tastes thick in the air of the heated room is your fluids. The rush of fresh blood pumping vigorously from your hearts, pulses elevated by the thrall. Sticky, sweet, and life-giving for him and you both. He is so glad he feasted on local farmstock before picking up your scent; otherwise, you would both be dead right now at his feet, lifeless and pale, every drop coursing through his mouth and swirling in his stomach like the indulgent meal your very hearty lifeforce represents. His hunger is slaked just enough that lust is his primary driver, at least for now.

He opens his mouth, engaging all the olfactory senses like a feline. Since he passed, his ability to pick up scents has been both a blessing and a curse, but right now, the best possible outcome from the dreaded experience.

Thomas’ precum is deliciously sharp, perhaps a shade too much. Benedict makes a mental note to offer him the luxury of some pineapple should this entanglement last longer than tonight, with them both still upon this mortal plain. You would undoubtedly be grateful for the improvement in his flavour, too.

As for you… his mouth froths. Your scent is sin itself to him, honeyed but also sharp like an undeveloped apple still clinging to the tree. A swirl of flavour in the air so plush, it takes all his willpower not to throw you to the ground and drink from between your legs. Knowing it would only take a blip, a momentary loss of careful control, to sink in his fangs, mixing your juices with your blood, what an absolute symphony of flavour that would be.

He realises he is staring at you both, panting lasciviously, lost in the jumble of scent and potential. You awaiting his next order, not even realising yourselves in suspended animation.

“Dorset, lie in the middle of the bed,” Benedict orders gruffly, drawing himself to his feet and standing aside.

Thomas does as bidden, his cock bobbing as he climbs onto the raised mattress and settles as instructed, looking at Benedict bright-eyed, awaiting any subsequent command.

“Watch me,” Benedict tutors you, then he crawls over your husband and, without preamble, takes the man's cock deep into his mouth as Thomas howls like he did for you earlier tonight.

—

Thomas almost hits the ceiling as his cock is suddenly surrounded by strong suction, vacuumed into Benedict's mouth. In fact, Benedict keeps sinking, and Thomas pants in shock as his tip slides into the man’s throat, something he has not had in many a year. The tightness, the pure depth of sensation. It seems strange the man does not need to take a breath or even fight as if there is air in his lungs, but dammit all to hell if this isn't already the most exquisite blow job of his entire life. Benedict apparently has no gag reflex; holding him deep, a mind-bogglingly long tongue unfurls to curl around his balls and lick covetously, a wet muscular stroke over his most sensitive skin that has his fingers curling into the sheets. He cannot school the booming, guttural groan. If he had not come merely an hour ago, thanks to his dearest you, he would likely be embarrassingly close to orgasm already; this man’s skill stupendous, another edge that doesn't seem human.

Thomas looks over frantically to you, his eyes bulging in shock, and he groans again at the sight of you. Your mouth hung open, lips rosy and damp, you have your fingers buried between your legs now, and there is a faint, lewd, wet sound as you invade your cunt with your fingers, just as he taught you on your wedding night. The sight before you is too beautiful and arousing to resist; you know your nipples are puckered, and Thomas’s tongue longs to run over them.

He wants to fuck and be fucked, sandwiched between you, his ravishing vixen of a wife, and this devil of a man, sucking his very life essence via his cock, intent on draining him dry. Just as Thomas feels a flush all over his body and a tightening in his sac, Benedict pulls up and away, smirking victoriously as he twists towards you, ignoring Thomas’ huffed, wretched pleas.

No! No, please, please do not leave me in this state!

—

You self-consciously whip your hands away from between your legs, and your eyes cut to Benedict as he addresses you.

“That is how you ensure your husband here never leaves you, little one,” he coos, running a thumb provocatively around his drooped lower lip, licking his thumbpad of every flavour. “Now it's your turn; show me what you can do.”

Benedict reaches out a draped hand. You take it, his touch light, helping you hop onto the bed to join them. He snatches your other hand and brings the fingers you had buried in your cunt up to his nose, sniffing lewdly.

Oh my god, this man is feral.

“I'm glad you enjoyed the show so much,” he smirks, running his nose up and down each digit. “Now I am going to taste you, darling girl,” it's low, akin to a threat. “You will sit on my face as you take his cock in your mouth, but do not let him come. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe, scarcely believing what he says. Benedict scowls slightly as he drops your hand.

“Don't call me sir, call me Count,” he snaps.

“Yes, Count,” you amend dutifully, and his smile, yet again, is devilish.

“Good, now ensure your husband is mindless with need while I provide you the same favour,” he purrs and slides under you with balletic grace.

Butterflies roar in your stomach as you feel the sharpness of Benedict's cheekbone press the skin of your inner thighs, draping yourself forward into your husband’s lap and tentatively licking a strip up his weeping cock as he mumbles your name weakly and moans.

Then you scream as a muscular tongue parts your folds with a force Thomas has never subjected you to. Whip-like, lashing your swollen clit with determined spirals before plunging lower and pushing far into your cunt, further than your husband's tongue has ever dared. Your groan is smothered as you take Thomas’ tip into your mouth, needing the distraction. Benedict’s hands grasp your hips and pull you down forcefully onto his face, his nose jammed against your pubic bone. Thomas has never been this engaged, devouring, a violent delight. You garble a curse around the cock, hurtling towards ecstasy as Thomas’ whole body tenses under you.

“Don't let him come,” Benedict reminds, words gusting hot over your slit, sensing what the man’s body signifies better than you do.

You pull off and breathe raggedly, staring up at your husband’s wrecked pleading face, where he leans on the headboard.

What is this? You mouth at him, nearly scared of how good it feels to ride Benedict's face so brazenly.

—

“Do not stop; use him, darling,” Thomas practically snarls through gritted teeth.

He is utterly enthralled by seeing another man taking you somewhere wild and untamed. The look of equal parts shock, fear and bewildered pleasure on your face is a picture he wants to remember forever.

He groans as you follow his advice, wrapping a hand loosely around his cock, a tease that makes his brain itch, as you concentrate on riding Benedict's invasive tongue, biting your lip, moaning vocally.

Yes, this is the best kind of sin.

Thomas mutters words, barely cognisant of what but compelled to urge you on. To take from this mysterious man so willing to give to you both, so far asking nothing in return, still fully clothed himself.

The jagged edge of his denied orgasm licks insistently at his mind, begging for release but paradoxically wallowing in the jangling ache of being so close but denied. Making him unable to think straight. As a doctor, he usually prides himself on keeping a cool head when all around may lose theirs, but tonight…. Tonight feels so peculiar. Out of the ordinary, out of control, out of his mind. And somehow craving carnality like a bestial creature, clawing at the bed, watching you be debauched by the same man who made him equally mindless.

—

Benedict cannot get enough. This wondrous pair. The husband was so responsive to his throat, and now you are bewitched just the same. Writhing your nub shamelessly over the tip of his nose, your juices trickling copiously down his nostrils to coat his throat as he plunges and twists his tongue inside you.

He wants you both so close to ecstasy, so close you can almost taste it, but not let you just yet. The thrill of how utterly base a human can be when dangling over the edge of lust fascinated him before… but now? Now, it’s his primary driver—to make a beast out of man, woman, any human, for them to feel one ounce of what he can. That heightened state when you crave something—so frenzied every base instinct emerges, shows your true nature: growling, greedy, hungry.

So when he feels the telltale ripplings in your cunt, he rapidly withdraws, and as predicted, you cry out, the sound ringing up the walls. He smirks, grazing your inner thigh with his fangs, the urge to sink into your soft skin and drink your other crimson nectar thronging in him.

Not yet, not yet.

The calm voice centres him, even as you keep moving, attempts to frottage yourself vigorously over his face, whimpering, desperate to push over the edge you are circling.

“Shh shh, sweet one,” he soothes, pulling out from under you as you pant wildly.

His hand rests on your lumbar spine to quell you. You slow, whimpering, collapsing forward, burying your face in your husband's lap, his cock leaking on your cheek, your hips swaying in the air. Both of you are shaking, sweaty and overwhelmed.

That’s it; we are getting there now, my darlings.

—

This doesn't feel right.

That voice is whispering again, but Thomas brushes it aside, ravenous, rooted in his body. Yearning to know what is next, a willing marionette in this sinful theatrical.

His mouth goes dry as he watches Benedict slide off the end of the bed and tug at his clothing, buttons popping open until lithe alabaster skin glows in the soft, flickering firelight. Shadows play over lean, muscled torso. He is beautiful: lean, virtually hairless, carved like a marble statue, just as pale and smooth. In fact, his beauty seems too ethereal, like his skin is no longer capable of tanning in sunlight. Still, Thomas longs to touch him, run his tongue over the sharp lines, and kiss every stunning contour.

“Y/n…” Thomas softly shakes your shoulder as you are still whimpering facedown in his lap. When you weakly raise your head, he nods for you to turn over and see the show you have been missing, Benedict now reaching for the buttons on his britches.

Lethargically, you flip over, your head cradled in Thomas’ lap as your eyes fall upon the man, and you inhale sharply. Benedict seemingly stares you both down as he lowers his britches, a smirk on his face entirely immodest. And when the material relents, you understand why.

Thomas’ cock pulses against your neck at the sight. He knows you have seen precisely one cock in your life, his, and this may come as a shock. It's larger and prettier, objectively than his own. You nuzzle him, biting your lip as you twist to look back up at him, eyes wide with concern.

“You can take it, darling,” he reassures, intuiting your apprehension as his knuckles brush calmingly over your cheek.

”As will you,” Benedict adds darkly, addressing Thomas. You watch your husband visibly gulp. Then you do the same, tongue feeling too large in your mouth, as Benedict mounts the bed and crawls predatory over your body, a sinful, crooked smile that is at once gorgeous and scary, that cock bobbing ominously as he draws nearer.

—

You feel butterflies under your ribs, unable to look away from his cock, suddenly nervous about the idea he might fuck you. Thomas is a perfect fit; it never hurts and feels designed to bring you gratification, but that?

It might be too much.

“Don't pretend you don't want me, little one,” Benedict boasts, edged with a darkness that is almost chilling.

“I-I do,” you stutter, unable not to speak the truth, your legs falling wider open reflexively.

“I know, I could smell you from 500 yards away; it drew me in like a clarion call,” he sighs wistfully, and it doesn't sound like he is exaggerating.

Benedict roughly grabs both of your legs and pushes them up and apart, making you gasp. Leaning over, he draws Thomas into a sinful kiss above you, making you mewl slightly at the sight, a burn in your tendons from the position, head now pulled out of Thomas’s lap onto the mattress.

“Hold her ankles,” Benedict orders over Thomas’s lips, gesturing to take over the hold. “Keep her wide and open for me, my prince,” he purrs as he leans away to slide a pillow under your shoulders, your head tilted backwards.

“Why like this?” you ask falteringly, feeling odd staring at Thomas's thigh upside down.

“So your husband can easily use your mouth as I fuck you, little one,” he explains calmly, hands now raking your flesh as he pulls you into position.

Nerves flare brightly in your belly, Thomas’s grip around your ankles harsh as he holds you so wide open. Then, there is intense pressure around your weeping hole. You whimper, your body quivering at Benedict’s attempted entry. He reaches up and touches your temple with two fingers, and the strangest thing happens; a preternatural calm soothes your mind, breath slowing, body pliant, racing now with nothing but want.

“Good girl,” Benedict tutors as he slips inside your body, the invasion blunt, the stretch as thrilling as it is raw.

He keeps pushing, the heat and size so much you can think of nothing else, even as Thomas shuffles closer, his cock nudging your chin, also demanding entry.

For someone innocent merely days ago, you willingly, excitedly, let both men slide into you at either end, your husband stealing your breath as he invades your mouth deeply, Benedict pushing you so wide you can feel him moving below your belly button as he bottoms out.

You feel them lean in towards each other above, Thomas sliding deeper as the sound of them kissing fills the air. You ache to see them, their mouths hot and entwined, but all you can do is close your eyes, swamped in sensation, so much hypnotic heat and scent. Fingers, you don't even know whose, pinch your nipples as both whisper your praises as they start to move in tandem, rocking into and out of your body in the same rhythm. They start slow, allowing you to draw breaths around Thomas' tip before he slides deep.

The drag of Benedict’s cock makes you moan; you can feel every contour and vein, your channel clinging tight to him, a noise of slickened suction as your body struggles to accommodate him.

But they begin to move faster, and you have to breathe through your nose, the insistent press of Thomas’ balls giving you limited air. The struggle makes it heady and soporific, like you can’t get enough and wants to die right here with both men buried deep inside you. You writhe as pleasure courses in your veins. Already pushed so close to coming, pliant and obedient to their use.

—

Benedict looks down upon the filled body of the woman beneath him and groans. Your cunt, such a tight wet vice surrounding him, delicious squelching sounds as he plunders you with increasing speed. Your plush lips wrapped around your husband's cock, your throat exposed and dewy with sweat, his teeth itching to sink into the vein bulging prominently as you fight to take him as well as swallow and breathe. He can’t help but reach down and run a sharp-pointed fingernail over your diaphragm, fascinated by the play of delicate muscle and bone as you ripple under his touch.

“Such a good little thing, and only recently plucked; you are a lucky man,” Benedict opines, his voice gravelly even to his own ears, looking up again to the man in front of him.

“Yes, I am,” Thomas agrees, and Benedict sees the imploring look in his eyes, begging for another kiss.

“Come here, sweet prince,” Benedict murmurs, feeling a spike of victory as Thomas effusively leans in, lips glistening, flushed and plump.

As they kiss anew, Benedict runs a fang over that juicy lip, wanting to sink down and bite, feeling his life force pulsing so strong right there underneath ripe, fleshy fibres. Thomas's hands twine around Benedict’s neck, his tongue tentative, asking for entry, and Benedict swirls and sucks upon it greedily, only breaking when he hears your attempted gurgling of words, your hands wrapped around your husband’s fuzzy thighs, requesting reprieve.

“Slide deeper; make her take it just a touch longer,” he growls into Thomas's ear, teething his lobe. “She will be feisty, but the lack of air will deliver her so close to rapture,” he counsels as Thomas thrusts and holds still. You start to struggle with muffled calls of increasing urgency. “Now slide out,” Benedict advises moments later, and Thomas follows his bidding.

Benedict moans as your whole body judders as you gulp deep breaths. “Perfect. Oh, my prince, you should feel how tight she gets when she’s fighting to breathe; dear god, it’s the best kind of pain.” He stutters, tone deep, wrecked, stupefied by the grip of your convulsing cunt.

What a perfect little thing. I want her as mine.

—

Thomas is also panting, the tightness of your throat squeezing him so close to orgasm for what feels like countless times tonight. He falls back against the headboard instead. To watch. To watch you, his once angelic wife, be taken, wrecked, destroyed by this gorgeous creature.

Your eyes shoot open as you realise he has withdrawn.

“Husband,” you reach a shaky hand up above your head, glad when he takes it, watching your body roll with each punishing thrust Benedict takes, his eyes seemingly fixed upon the hammering pulsing in your neck as you ratchet higher, his tongue slipping out of his mouth in a wanton glistened point.

Just as you are pushing your hips into each thrust, screaming with ecstasy, Benedict pulls out, and Thomas feels your anguish as you suddenly cry out, your whole being heaving with unmet needs, eyes pleading.

“Do you miss my cock already, little one?” he preens, trailing your own musky juices over your belly as he teasingly passes his cock over your heated skin.

You nod viciously and growl, Thomas barely recognising you—a creature reborn of pure lust and submission. Craving this man in a way that makes jealousy and want war uneasily in Thomas’ gut. You have never been this feral for him, your husband, but yet he completely sympathises, feeling the same pangs of want to be taken, wrecked, destroyed endlessly by this thing resembling a man.

“Alas, that is your misfortune, my beautiful thing, for ‘tis your husband's turn now,” the cold glint in his eyes and the harsh lines of his razor-sharp cheekbone glowing as yet again he leaves you a whining, whimpering mess, your body leaking, your voice hoarse, more wild animal than woman. As Thomas lifts his gaze from you writhing to Benedict, one thought haunts his very being with a growing disquiet.

What exactly are you, if not man?

—

You feel inhuman, something clawing at the edges of your mind that feels like madness. A desire to be possessed by this man. Your insides branded as his. So when he withdraws just as you are fluttering once again, it feels like insanity, like sandpaper drags over your brain, your toes and fingers stiff from flexing so hard in utter wretchedness.

This is ecstatic torture.

“Please, my Count,” it’s forlorn, ragged, almost not recognisable as your own voice, your throat still sore from the harsh tip of your husband's cock.

“No, little one, it’s only right you should take your husband's seed, not mine,” he clucks, even as he rakes his hands covetously over your sweaty body, his tone sounding reluctant as if trying to convince himself as much as you.

“Sweet prince, claim your wife,” he calls, clamping a hand around Thomas's neck, compelling him to slide over you.

He does as bidden, and you groan as the familiar stretch of your husband's cock overtakes your senses. Not nearly as punishing or brutal as Benedict, but curved perfectly to glance at that spot inside that makes you clamp down and scream with every pass.

“Darling,” Thomas's familiar voice whispers in your ear, and it’s a balm you need, centring you on him and his lovely face, moving over you in a surging wave.

“Thomas, my love,” you call, wrapping your limbs around him and taking comfort in his embrace, his body, familiar and musky, a flavour you know well dripping on your tongue as you kiss his salty neck, mumbling encouragements, your heels digging into his bottom.

Benedict watches you from behind, and when you look beyond Thomas, you see eyes inky black with desire, fingers ghosting Thomas’s back as if wanting to flay his skin open.

“Are you ready for me, my prince?” Benedict purrs in a way that makes even you shudder, unable to look away from his tongue as it slides into Thomas’ ear.

—

Benedict reaches for the vial before Thomas even moans his weak assent. The smell of clove swirls as he unseals a small vial and pours it down Thomas’ crack.

He can taste how much Thomas wants this, a heavy fug of desire in the air that is his pheromones begging more than his words ever might.

Thomas shudders, and his movements falter as Benedict slides a finger between his cheeks and swirls the oil over his heated skin, over his puckered hole and his balls.

Benedict can feel the weight of your stare over Thomas’s shoulder. Intrigue and desire. You have likely never seen a man fuck another man. Certainly not your husband. Certainly not while he is inside you.

Little one, hold on tight.

—

Thomas is staring into your eyes when Benedict’s cock slides between his cheeks, demanding entry.

He knows he has stilled his movements, and his breathing is ragged and uneven as that long-forgotten breach occurs. He groans loudly; it's the largest he has ever had inside him, and the burn is intense.

“Are you alright, my love?” you call, holding his face delicately and stroking his cheek.

“It’s intense, my love,” he answers through gritted teeth and a shaky exhale as Benedict keeps inching slowly into him.

He’s never had his cock buried in someone while being fucked before; intense exhilaration and so much stimulation. To fuck and be fucked simultaneously.

When Benedict bottoms out, Thomas collapses onto you, his elbows sinking into the mattress under your armpits, his hands clenched in fists over your breasts.

You reach for one and pries open his fingers, silently bringing the hand to your mouth and kissing then sucking his fingers as if his cock, a tease that titillates and distracts as Benedict starts to rock in and out of him. Thomas cannot look away from your mouth, your pleading eyes no doubt telegraphing your devotion and lust.

My darling wife…

—

You feel the moment Benedict moves within your husband, his motion a catalyst to the slide of Thomas's cock within you.

He has found a way to fuck us both.

It is all your mind can think as you watch your husband's face contort a thousand ways, rapture and fear, his whole body becoming a puppet stuck between you and the Count.

“Can you feel that?” Benedict growls, staring you down, eyes black now.

“Y-Yes,” you stumble, seeing something wild in him that genuinely scares you now, your tummy oily even as your clit twinges with pleasure, your husband's cock being driven into you at a pace that you know will make you come within moments.

“Good… don’t you dare look away from me,” Benedict growls when your eyes stray to Thomas.

You obey but watch with growing disquiet as he smiles wickedly wide. Two extended ivory fangs glow in the low flickering firelight. His tongue licks over them provocatively, drawing your attention.

What in God's name?

“God can’t help you now, little one,” Benedict sniggers ominously, and your heart pounds that he can read your mind. “Indeed I can,” he winks, making you gasp.

You are trapped. Trapped under your almost rag doll-like husband, his groans gusting hot into your neck now as he is slumped over you, being fucked so harshly by Benedict, hips snapping as he stares you down, pointed nails scraping down Thomas’s back, his entire mien a sinister seductive leer.

“You are mine, both of you,” Benedict declares. It’s dark, possessive, unearthly.

Confusion rips through your being as, for the first time, you see something other than man—a creature. Utterly terrifying, beguiling, erotic. A shadow moves over his face that is all menace and not of this world. Yet, at the same time, your body is so close to ecstasy, a taut thread holding all your muscles so close to breaking. Horror, fear, lust, and want are a continuous swirling loop in your very being.

Time slows, treacle-like, as you start to convulse despite yourself, taken over the edge by the carnal push and pull of Benedict fucking your husband into your body. Clinging tight to Thomas, you watch in slow-motion as Benedict leans down, those fangs looming large. Then, you feel a searing, sharp pang as they make contact with the meat of your arm, where it is wound around Thomas’s neck. Utter terror grips your heart, even as a flood of chemicals so strong courses into your bloodstream. Strong suction over the wound has you screaming, pure unbridled ecstasy, euphoria coursing in every fibre even as it dawns on you far too late precisely what he is.

VAMPIRE!

—

Benedict has only known immortality for a few months when he tastes his forever. Your blood floods his mouth, and it is the nectar he has been seeking since his turn. The thing that calms and sates him. The sweet delight that means he will never leave your side: he is yours. He will feed from others, for sure, but he is imprinted upon you forever now. He shall always be careful never to drink too much to kill you; he needs this taste more than anything, and just a few drops will be enough to keep him sustained.

“My goddess,” he moans, making your eyes pop open, fear but something else, too, swimming in your depths. It's not revulsion; it's anything but–it's yearning, even from your trance-like bliss.

He stops sucking before you lose too much blood; it’s just enough to make you light-headed and extend your rapture. He can feel you convulsing, Thomas’s limp body a conduit for your intense orgasm. Buried deep in Thomas, closing his eyes and feeling the pulses as you milk your husband’s cock, him just awash and pliant, sandwiched between you.

Benedict feels from inside the moment Thomas breaks, feels his balls contract and his pelvis ripple as he groans loud and long, his seed forcibly painting your insides. It’s futility to resist the urge to feast again. Meeting your hungry, consuming gaze as you crest a secondary wave, he sinks his fangs into the nape of Thomas’s neck, the man calling out lustily. And as he sucks greedily, Benedict falters and moans hard. It's like Thomas’ flavour is the other puzzle piece he needs. The ying to your yang. Together, the taste in his mouth is a symphony. A magnum opus, what feels like the very reason he now exists such as he does.

“My prince, my king,” he garbles, roughly suckling from Thomas's neck, watching the crimson line of blood ooze down his spine and licking it covetously, wantonly, his very purpose.

And it's the catalyst that flings him into the cauldron too, a shuddering snap that consumes his whole body and has him coming so hard he cannot hold himself on his knees anymore, slumping onto Thomas, panting as he empties, a visceral unloading that feels like the very best catharsis.

—

You have never known paradise like this. A continuous loop of thrill; every time you think it is over, you feel first your darling Thomas and then your beautiful nightmare Benedict come, and it pushes you over another precipice. Each is as precious and encompassing as the last.

The weight of them both slumped upon you as the shudder is something you cannot withstand, and you have to call out in protest. Somehow almost preternaturally, they rearrange around you, a tangle of limbs, sweat, cum and blood entwined like a knot of vipers as you all find a comfortable hold, panting hard from the exertion.

“What are you??” you demand, ragged, staring Benedict down around Thomas, who seems to be hovering semi-conscious, his face a picture of complete rapture.

A finger traces down your cheek as he does the same to Thomas, which you track askance.

“Darling precious, you already know. I’m your worst dream masquerading as your perfect fantasy,” he chimes. “And I am yours forever.”

“To which of us do you speak?” you gulp, barely able to form the words; your whole world tilted and forever changed.

“You see, therein lies the beauty,” Benedict smiles, running the edge of his incisors first over Thomas’s neck as he groans drowsily, then yours, making you inhale sharply. “I speak of both of you.”

Thomas twists and places a sleepy, sated kiss on you and then Benedict.

“Enthralling, is not, my love?” Thomas slurs, nuzzling you both. “We have our very own creature of the night.”

“You knew?!” you stutter, disbelief warring with every other emotion alive in your body.

“Mmm,” he hums peacefully. “I knew on some level from the moment he kissed me. And yet here we are. Hearts still beating, bodies utterly sated. This is the best possible outcome. I, for one, cannot wait for every adventure with our delicious Vampire,” Thomas lazily pats Benedict's cheek, who smiles and kisses his temple.

You are rendered speechless.

“Come on, y/n, my goddess,” Benedict goads, his tone dusky and irresistible as his lips ghost your husband’s, his long pale fingers smearing a droplet of blood into your breast, spidering over your flesh in a way that already has your cunt swelling again. “I am yours. And I can give you such pleasures every night,” he promises.

Well, that is perhaps the most enthralling prospect of all.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #vampire fanfiction #thomas dorset #thomas Dorset fanfiction

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buckychristwrites · 10 months

Text

Could This Be | Chap. Eight | j.t.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: One minute, you're single and working for AFC Richmond as the team's medic. The next minute, you're in a fake relationship with the team's handsome striker who you know next to nothing about.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Discussions of Previous Emotional & Physical Domestic Violence. Cussing. Fake Dating

A/N: This chapter was brought to you by Only Love Can Hurt Like This by Paloma Faith & Fine Line by Harry Styles. Take that as you will! :)

Masterlist | Could This Be Masterlist | Main Blog

“Are you avoidin’ me?”

You screamed, the voice from behind startling you so much that you dropped the jump bag you had been trying to load into your car. When you turned, you found Jamie, who’s face let you know that he didn’t mean to scare you, though that didn’t stop him from finding it incredibly amusing.

“Can you please stop doing that?” You said through uneven breaths. He shook his head as he took a step forward to pick up the bag you had just dropped.

“Sorry.” Though, he didn’t sound very apologetic.

As he set the bag in the backseat of your car, you kept your eyes trained on the ground. Because the answer was yes, you absolutely had been avoiding him. Ever since the night of the premiere, you had been making yourself scarce around the club as much as possible. It had been pure luck that all injuries had remained at the bare minimum, but you also had been doing your charting away from the med room as well as away from the pitch. This was, truly, the first time you had spoken to Jamie in days.

“Are you not comin’ to the match?” He asked, glancing over at his teammates, who were all piling into the coach while laughing and hyping each other up. It took you a second to register what he meant.

“Of course I am,” You told him, finally looking up. “I always take my own car.” He glanced at the car, then over at the coach again before looking back at you.

“Why?”

You shrugged. “I like the quiet. Helps me get my mind ready.”

He seemed to consider this before suddenly he was taking off towards the bus. You watched him pop his head in through the door. Though you couldn’t hear what he was saying, you could hear the team cheering and whooping very loudly before he came running back towards you. His smile was shit eating.

“Guess I’m ridin’ with ya.”

A weird mix of anxiety and amusement rose in your chest.

“I don’t recall inviting you to ride with me.” His eyes rolled upwards.

“I don’t recall carin’.”

Before you could come up with a proper response, he was climbing into the passenger seat of your car. The door slammed and your mouth fell open. The audacity of Jamie was loud as he looked out at you, still grinning. The team made no effort to hide that they were watching you and him. You gave them a quick wave before turning your back on them, a heavy sigh tumbling out.

This was the worst case scenario for you. You had wanted this time to yourself, but not to prepare for the game.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, you slid the belt over your torso and turned the car on. Jamie kicked his feet onto the dashboard in clear triumph. If it had been anyone else, this would’ve annoyed you to no end. But, unfortunately, it was Jamie, so you let it go.

As you pulled out of the car park, following behind the coach with the rest of the team, your heart was beating a hundred kilometres a minute. The quiet music from the radio was not enough to distract you from the huge elephant sitting between the two of you, taking up all the air and making it hard to breathe.

“So,” Jamie said, bringing his feet back to the floor while sitting upright. The sound of his voice caused a sharp pain to ripple through your chest. “Askin’ again. Are you-”

“I need to talk to you,” You blurted out without an ounce of thought behind it. He stared at you for a moment before nodding. As he turned his body so you had his full attention, you felt like you were going to throw up.

“What’s wrong?” It’s like you were a book written in a language only he could understand. Peaking over at him, his face was filled with concern. Your brain was rejecting the words you wanted to say next, causing you to fight for your life to get them out of your mouth.

“I think…” You said slowly, taking a deep breath. Deciding to start over, you glanced at him again. “I think that, after Beard’s wedding…” Your eyes forced themselves back on the road in resignation. “... that we should stop this.”

The words were in the air, and there was nothing you could do to put them back in your head, as much as you wanted to. The silence that filled the car was deafening. Though you weren’t looking at him, the chill that shot up your spine let you know that he turned away from you.

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” Was all he said after a lifetime of not saying a word. When you allowed yourself to look at him, you found his eyes were cast downwards, his eyebrows tightly furrowed together. Carefully folding his hands in his lap, he looked up, but only to stare out of the windscreen. The tension in his jaw was remarkably obvious.

“Jamie…”

“Did say about a month, we did,” He said as if you hadn’t spoken, nodding stiffly.

“I didn’t want to do this right now,” You told him, knuckles tight against the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.”

“Ya didn’t want to do this just before the match against Tottenham?” He snapped, his eyes on you once again. Beyond the anger they exhibited, you could see the hurt, too. “Then why did ya?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. You got in my car!” You exclaimed, the tears starting to well in your eyes but you blinked them away.

“Because I wanted to hang out with ya!” He shouted back. “I fuckin’... I fuckin’ missed ya.” He shook his head angrily. “We fuck one time and now I’m fuckin’ nothin’ to you?”

You huffed, frustrated. The fact that he could say something like that to you, about what you and him had shared together, was devastating in more ways than you could ever understand. “Of course not, Jamie…” He ran both of his hands over his head, his fingers tearing through his hair. You wanted to rewind time, to start this whole conversation over. Why did your chest hurt so badly? Why did it feel like a real breakup?

Because to you, it was. Your feelings for Jamie had gotten too intense. He was the only thing you thought about before you went to sleep at night, and the first thing you thought of when you woke up in the morning. After the night of the premiere, he had left your house that morning, leaving you with a kiss to the side of your head as you pretended to still be asleep. You had spent the rest of that morning crying nonstop, the realisation that this was no longer fake for you being too much to bear.

The fact of the matter was, either way, you were losing. If Jamie didn’t feel the same, then it made sense to you, because why would he? But if he did, then it was only a matter of time that he would see you for what you really are: A broken girl, with more baggage than an entire airline hanger, who didn’t know how to allow someone to love her without the fear consuming her.

“It don’t matter,” He said, his voice strangely distant. You looked over at him. “This ain’t real, right? It was always meant to end.”

Each word felt like a knife.

The rest of the drive went by without another word. By the time you pulled into Tottenham Spur’s Stadium, you were a thread away from a total breakdown. As soon as you put the car in park, Jamie was out and storming down the car park, meeting back up with the team. You held back to give yourself a moment to breathe. The tears spilled over as you set your forehead against the steering wheel.

“You’re fine,” You whispered in a pathetic attempt to stop the crying. “It’s all going to be fine. This is how it was always going to happen.”

Taking a deep breath and wiping off your face, you climbed out of the car, grabbing your jump bag and making your way to the player entrance. Most of the team had already gone inside, but Coach Beard was leaning against the coach, yelling into his phone, assumedly to his bride-to-be. As you let yourself inside, you tried to internalise that. Maybe that’s what all love is: yelling, and pain, and hurting each other over and over and over again. It was all you had ever known from past experiences. Why allow yourself to feel all that again? This was all for the best. It had to be.

The cheering and yelling from the changing room echoed down the hallway as you walked by, but you decided to skip the pre-game rituals this time. Instead, you made your way to the stadium med room, which was thankfully empty, and sifted through the materials to make it look like you were stocking. You just wanted to pass the time so the game would start sooner, meaning it would end sooner, and then you could go home.

The staging area for the medics on the pitch was a small box area, as it was just you and the paramedic for the other team. The Team Doctor was somewhere in the stadium, as well as physiotherapists, but you were the first in the line of care when it came down to injuries. Placing your jump bag on the grass, you sat cross legged and waited patiently. That’s all it was at this point. A lot of waiting.

As you bided your time until the players made their entrance, you thought about Jamie, and you thought about his pain. The last thing you had ever wanted was to hurt him. Maybe he had grown used to the routine of pretending to date you as much as you had with him. If only you were capable of separating your feelings from the whole thing like he could.

Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of the story.

You repeated the quote over and over in your head. It had to be you. For the sake of yourself, it had to be you.

Because you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it if you allowed this to go on, and then it would inevitably be him.

The crowd went crazy when the players began to file out of the tunnel, each team in its own single file line. Though you applauded along with them, your eyes were trained on the bright green grass.

A tap on your shoulder made you jump. When you turned, the Tottenham medic was holding his phone out to you.

“S’this you?”

Hesitantly, you took a look. Twitter was open, and when you took the phone from him, you were looking at a picture of Jamie and yourself. Neither of you were looking at the camera, instead your eyes were fixed on each other, both of you smiling. The look in Jamie’s eyes was the type of look that a woman would die to have thrown their way. You wondered how it was so easy for him to look at you like that. To convince everyone else it was real for him.

“It is,” You said weakly, handing him back the phone.

“Thought so.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “What’s it like, dating The Jamie Tartt?”

You watched him from across the field. He was staring straight in front of him, his hands behind his back. The tension was so severe that he looked like someone pointed a remote at him and hit the pause button. You found yourself wishing that he was closer, that you could hold his hand and apologise. For the harm you caused. For breaking the rule of not falling for him. For allowing this to happen at all. For everything.

“It’s definitely something else.”

The conversation stopped there with the start of the game, thankfully. Getting the best seat in the house for the matches would be a lot better in any other moment, but right now, the only place you wanted to be was anywhere else.

The longer the game went on, the harder it was to focus. Jamie was playing incredibly well, clearly fueled by the argument prior. He was being more selfish with the ball than he had been in a while, and scored two goals within the first fifteen minutes of the match starting. Despite being sat right on the edge of the field, he never once looked in your direction.

“Seems we’re getting some of the old Jamie Tartt today,” The Tottenham medic remarked. If you were a ruder person, you would’ve told him exactly where he could stick his commentary, but you weren’t a ruder person, so you kept your comments to yourself. Instead, you internally hoped that he wouldn’t talk to you like this the entire match.

“Maybe with Lasso gone, he remembered his old ways,” He continued. Your eyes rolled upwards to the sky.

This day really couldn’t possibly get any worse.

The ball was soaring through the air, clearing the heads of numerous players who attempted to reach it. Jamie jumped up to bounce it off his head. It felt like time was going in slow motion. The ball hit Jamie’s head at the same time as a Tottenham player, who clearly didn’t see him coming, jumped to kick it, and instead kicked him, hard, in the back of the head.

As Jamie collapsed to the ground, you rose to your feet.

“He’ll get up,” You said out loud, mostly to yourself. Sam, Isaac, and Dani raced to Jamie’s side as you waited with a pounding heart. They all stared down at him, Sam kneeling down and placing his hands on either shoulder.. You tried to stay optimistic. He would get up, and you wouldn’t be needed. It would be okay. It would be-

Sam turned to look at you, eyes wide in horror.

Grabbing the jump bag, you took off down the field as fast as your unathletic legs would take you. The rest of the team started to gather around as you pushed your way through. Jamie was completely unconscious when you dropped to your knees next to him.

“Jamie?” You shouted, putting your hands to his face and giving him a slight shake. He didn’t say anything, his eyes still shut and slightly fluttering. With one hand to his carotid artery, you put the knuckles of your other to his sternum and dug deep into his chest before running them up and down his skin. No response. His pulse was rapid. It was then that you realised he wasn’t breathing.

Fuck.

“I need a gurney right now!” You shouted at no one in particular as you grabbed a BVM mask from the bag and attached it to the oxygen tank. In the back of your head, you thought of the head injury he’d just had not that long ago. The one you had released him back to training from. Your mind was being completely irrational as it spiralled downward. Was he not ready? Should you have given him more time to heal? He had seemed fine, showing no symptoms of concussion or any major brain injury. Was this your fault? How could you have stopped this?

Throwing the blood pressure cuff on him and hitting start, you threw your hair out of your face.

“Can I get another fucking set of hands here?” You shouted, furious by the lack of help from the Tottenham medic.

“What do you need me to do?” Sam asked with a shaky voice. A hard sigh forced its way out of your mouth. It wasn’t exactly what you had meant, but it was all you had. You thrusted the BVM bag at him.

“Put this over his mouth like this,” You instructed, guiding his hands so his thumb and index fingers were around the mask and the rest were on Jamie’s jawline. Teaching him was the only distraction you had. The only thing keeping you level headed. “Push these fingers upwards so that his jaw stays open.” You looked up. “Isaac!” Your voice was sharp, causing the team captain to immediately scramble to your side. “I need you to hold this and count to five. Every time you say five, give it a light squeeze. Okay? Show me.”

“One… two… three… four… five.” At the number five, he lightly squeezed the bag, causing Jamie’s chest to rise. Turning to the oxygen tank, you spun the dial to the 25 mark, the sound of the oxygen whooshing through the tubing and out of the mask filling your ears. You felt like you were on autopilot as you pulled a cervical collar from the bag and slid it under Jamie’s neck. Maybe this was all just a crazy dream, and you would wake up in your bed, the morning of the match, and none of this would’ve happened at all.

As you continued to work, you could still hear Isaac counting out loud. One, two, three, four, breath. One, two, three, four, breath.

It was the only sound. The stadium had gone entirely silent.

“Fuck you, Jamie, wake the fuck up.” A drop of water fell onto his bare chest as you placed the pads of the AED. Is it raining? No. You’re crying. The machine went through the prompts as you finally looked up. A gurney was making its way down the field, two medics pushing it through the grass with an ambulance waiting behind them. You wanted to scream at them for not being any faster.

The last thing he said to you was in anger. The last conversation you had with him was filled with miscommunication and hurt.

No shock advised, the AED told you. Fingers to his neck again, you confirmed Jamie still had a pulse.

“What we got?” One of the medics asked as they placed a backboard next to Jamie.

“27 year old male, unresponsive after a head injury.” Stop fucking shaking. Stop fucking sounding like you care so much. “GCS of 3. Hypertensive at 162/108. Pulse present and rapid at 124. P-Patient was not breathing, he’s now on 25 litres of oxygen at 12 breaths a minute. C-spine secured.”

Isaac was still counting. One, two, three, four, breath.

As the other medics began to switch Jamie to their equipment, you took the opportunity to wipe your cheeks on your sleeves. Almost immediately after, you scrambled to sit near his head, where Sam and Isaac still took up a lot of space. It seemed that the medics were going to ask you to move, but then wordlessly decided to allow you to help. Which was good for them, considering you weren’t planning on letting either of them guide his head. Placing a hand on either side of the cervical collar, the other medics counted before rolling him in order to place the board underneath him. Once he was laid back down, and they were strapping him down, you still had your hands on either side of his head, running your thumbs up and down his cheeks.

He looked unreal, with the mask on his face and his chest rising and falling so mechanically. You had gone through scenarios like this one dozens and dozens of times before, yet somehow, at this moment, you felt like this was the first time in your whole life that you had ever encountered it.

“You’ll be fine,” You whispered to him, leaning down and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Jamie was hoisted into the air before being moved to the gurney, where he was secured with even more straps, It was weird to watch, but only because it was him. Trying to be helpful, while also not ready to part from him yet, you grabbed the heart monitor and walked alongside, the weight making you waddle slightly to keep up. Sam and Isaac were still following at the head and doing the jobs you had assigned them, as the two medics pushed the gurney towards the ambulance. The cot was secured to the loader before Jamie was lifted in the air seamlessly at the press of a button. One of the medics took over for Sam and Isaac, the two of the stepping to the side while anxiously continuing to watch. The other medic took the heart monitor from you and set it inside the back of the ambulance before shutting the doors.

Go.

Go with them.

But you can’t.

Because one hurt player doesn’t absolve your responsibility to the rest.

As the ambulance pulled out of the garage off the side of the pitch, lights immediately turned on, a hand gripped your shoulder and gave a light squeeze. Even as the doors closed, you could still hear the scream of the sirens echoing off the walls as the ambulance pulled out of the stadium and carried him away.

“Alright,” Roy said, to you as well as to Sam and Isaac. “Let’s go.”

You looked back a few times as Roy led you back down the pitch. Somewhere in your heart, you believed that maybe it was a mistake, and the doors would open and Jamie would run out with a big smile, laughing as he explained it was all one big joke.

No such thing happened though, as you resumed your place at the staging area, a bowling ball in your stomach, and stabbing pain in your chest.

TAGS

@daffieapple, @my-left-sock, @buckybarnex, @jelleeyfish, @ricciardhoe3, @picked-off-by-barzal, @lilweirdgal, @hotdoglamp, @loveslide, @rosea-h, @13-7-19-67-71. @wickedheartz, @xxenia14, @zazima, @alainabooks143, @geek-and-proud, @imagines-reblogged, @fuckifuckedup, @booklovingduck, @loveforaugust, @f1maverick, @jamieroyjamieroy, @meisterdani, @hanybunch, @batsy-bats1, @brianandthemays, @heletsmelovehim, @breepboopbap, @jellycolors

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #tedlassosource #ted lasso fanfiction

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hiskillingjar · 11 days

Note

Could we get some aftercare with Strade? (Like him patching up mc and being all sweet and gentle after a torture session and mc is confused and doesn’t know how to process it)

i wrote this like five years ago and abandoned it so thanks for making me pick this back up.

2500+ words, literal follow up of strade's route in btd. it is what it is

*CLICK*

The heavy collar was fastened around your neck before you had the chance to say anything, and already, you could feel the heavy weight of it, both physically and symbolically.

He had claimed you. He owned you.

He controlled whether you lived or died, which was entirely dependent on whether you entertained him…or not. “Come on, buddy.” Amid your silence, Strade stood to his feet and dusted his hands off on his trousers, before he offered a hand out to you. “You must be exhausted. Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

An almost kind smile came to his face (his handsome face, still handsome in spite of everything he had done to you for the last three days) and he didn’t even seem that annoyed when you hesitated to reach out for him.

In fact, he was remarkably patient, given the situation.

You blinked wide, scared eyes at who was now, effectively, your captor, half expecting yourself to burst into tears at the shallow display of kindness.

You anticipated him whipping a knife out as soon as you reached out for him, anticipated him laughing cruelly at you for being so gullible, so trusting.

You anticipated him continuing the brutal torture that you had survived for three days before this, until your brain broke and your body splintered into bloody shards in his hands.

But he didn’t.

He just waited for you.

All without a snarky word or a raised eyebrow.

Maybe if others had been so patient and kind with you before this, you wouldn’t have been in this situation.

Ironic, really.

After another long moment, you eventually reached out for him and took his hand.

“There you go,” Strade muttered softly as your hand slipped into his own. “Not so bad, is it?”

He hauled you onto your shaking feet with surprising ease, demonstrating his intimidating strength (demonstrating how you wouldn’t have won if you tried to fight back against him).

You hadn’t used your legs in a couple of days and the searing pain still coursing through your body quickly fired up again, causing you to stumble with a weak cry and a whimper.

Falling into his arms.

In another universe, the act of him catching you would have been charming. Romantic almost.

It seemed twisted to consider it romantic now.

“Woah, easy there!” He exclaimed with a little chuckle, and not a mean one either. He attempted to support your shaking body the best he could, draping one of your arms around his shoulder, his free arm drifting downward to wrap around your shuddering waist. “Guess I should have known you’d have trouble walking right away. Sorry about that.”

He apologised and it almost made you laugh (almost made you throw up).

Because he’s not apologising for kidnapping you, for torturing you, for putting a fucking drill through your foot, for fucking raping you while you were near comatose.

He was just apologising for thinking you’d be able to walk properly after all of that.

His seemingly genuine kindness was enough to make your muscles clench, your stomach ache, your heart pound in your chest.

It made your head spin.

You couldn’t seem to reconcile these two very different sides of him. It couldn’t be the same man, could it?

He was apologising. Did he even know what he was apologising for?

“I’ll help you up the stairs, alright?” He offered, and you nodded quickly, not sure what else to do. “Then we’ll figure a place to put you for the time being, while I assess the new, ah, new living situation. Okay?”

“Okay,” You mumbled weakly, as he hauled you upwards (pulling you towards his cocked hip) and helped you up the wooden steps, doing his best to put as little strain on your injured foot as possible.

It almost felt nice to be treated so gently, so patiently, to be the vulnerable one for a change, and let someone else, someone stronger, someone older, take care of the situation…even if that meant being vulnerable to someone like Strade.

He led you up the stairs of the basement, past the heavy, locked door, and into a...totally normal-looking hallway.

You almost scoffed, it was so normal (barring the lack of pictures on the wall, or any modicum of personality in what little you could see of what must have been his house) as he reached back to close and lock the door behind him.

"Hm?" He looked towards you with a raised eyebrow. You hadn't realised that you had, in fact, scoffed out loud. He didn’t seem rushed or tense, though, not like he was dealing with a hostage.

In fact, he seemed quite calm.

"...Nice place." You murmured, averting your eyes.

"Ah, if you say so." He chuckled, pocketing a set of keys and placing his arm back around your waist, before pulling you into his side once again. "It's a means to an end. Something that makes me look...mm, normal, you know?"

You didn't know. But you nodded your head all the same.

He didn't continue his line of thought as he led you up the second set of stairs, bare feet comforted by soft, grey carpet that was getting slowly dotted with blood from your punctured foot.

You didn't feel bad about it in the slightest.

You were relieved when he opened the door to, again, a normal-looking and plain bathroom and led you both inside, locking the door behind him and approaching the large tub. “A friend of mine says that a bath is the best way to feel better,” He said, adjusting the handle of the spout and putting his palm underneath the running water, checking the temperature. “They’re not for me, personally, but it’ll probably feel nice for you, right?”

“Mm,” You hummed, biting your lip, settling down on the closed toilet lid and holding yourself tight.

Your relief was finally starting to settle in, but, conversely, the adrenaline was wearing off, and you were beginning to feel the full, sharp extent of your injuries. Tears threatened to stream down your cheeks, and he seemed to pick up on that.

He looked at you then, amused in spite of your pain, his golden eyes crinkling fondly.

"This may sound a little intrusive," He apologised, his voice gentler, softer. "But, can I..?"

"Huh?" You looked up.

He'd never concerned himself with not being intrusive before. Why now?

“Let me help you get undressed,” He said, taking a step closer towards you with an easy, laidback smile, the kind of smile that immediately won you over and settled you in the bar. “You’re probably too weak to do it yourself right now…right?”

You gave him an uneasy look, half expecting him to do something...expected.

"Relax," He insisted, as he reached down to untie the strings of your stained jogging shorts (why had you left your apartment in those?), his voice and touch unnervingly soft and gentle, handling you with far more patience than you were used to. "I won't hurt you more than I already have."

“For some reason, I doubt that,” You mumbled grouchily as your shorts slid down, just about grazing your cuts enough to sting.

“So cruel to me, liebling,” He asked, his voice tinged with playfulness and even a small hint of fake outrage. “Do you have any faith in your captor at all?”

“None.”

You tried not to make eye contact with him as he tucked his strong hands beneath your (blood) stained top and pulled it off, letting it fall to your still-shifting feet and revealing your ratty sports bra.

“Hmph,” He huffed dramatically, as if your reply had genuinely offended him. “You don’t have to be so cold.”

With a soft laugh (clearly, he wasn’t that upset with how stand-off-ish you were being), he pulled the bra off without much struggle (your arms were in no state to do any fighting anyway).

You shivered, feeling the sudden cool air on your chest, enough to make your nipples swell.

He didn’t say anything about that, but he did look a little smug as his eyes drifted up and down your body.

“Underwear off, then,” He then said, giving you a pleased look. “I’ll be a gentleman and leave that to you.”

You hesitated for a second before reaching for the straps of your panties, pulling them down your marred thighs and letting them fall to your feet too.

Strangely, he seemed far less interested the more you undressed, though.

“Huh…not a bad body,” He commented placidly like he was commenting on something mundane or dull. You almost scoffed again as you crossed your arms (and he let you do it). “You do look a little pale, though,” He added with a slight tilt of his head, his voice softening once again as he turned back to the bath and pushed the tap down to a stop. “I guess the blood loss is normal in your case…” “I guess so,” You replied with a little sigh, covering yourself more tightly with your arms while he dragged a hand through the hot water.

"Lie down into the bath," He instructed a little sternly after standing up straight again and wiping his damp hands down his front, his tone suddenly more authoritative. "I'll get you cleaned up."

Your legs felt like they were about to give out from under you as he spoke, but you didn't even attempt to argue with him. You just did as he said.

The water was much hotter than you expected, hot enough that steam was emitting in short wisps from the surface, making you immediately inhale with subdued pain (never mind how the hot water felt on your open wounds).

You quickly sank down into the tub, though. settled by the heat and the comforting warmth of it, like a blanket on your aching limbs, quicksand on your shoulders. It felt…safe, in a perverse kind of way.

You were growing used to perversion, though.

“Ah, you looked like you needed that,” Strade said after a few silent minutes, and when you looked up, you saw that he was stripping off himself. “Move up.”

"Mm!" You let out a little squeak of surprise as he stepped into the tub behind you, his warm body, his tank skin pressed to yours. “H-Hey, come on, I just wanted to relax!”

"So, relax," He said lightheartedly, with the kind of commanding tone you were starting to get used to. He was going to have his way, no matter what you said, so better to just…let it be.

The bath was more than big enough for the two of you (you could only guess how much it must have cost him), but a self-conscious gnaw on your brain forced you to try and appear as small as possible against his broad chest.

Curling your knees up to your chest, hunching your shoulders inwards, dipping your head down.

“Hmph, that’s cute.” He said, almost fondly and with an audible smile, slowly stroking up and down your back with a gentle touch. “You’re so tense…almost like you’re scared or something.”

His fingertips were calloused from years of physical labour (you didn’t want to think what that labour might have been) as they traced up and down the tattooed lines of ink in your skin, slow and almost curious. And, despite how frightened you might have been, you couldn’t help but lean back against him, relishing in his softness, his almost kindness, while he was still in a good mood.

"There we go," Strade said with a pleased murmur. "Perfect. Exactly like that."

Strade slipped a hand around your stomach, and rubbed the skin gently, before slowly sliding upwards, inch by inch, until his fingers were gliding against your ribs. without any kind of malicious intention, humming softly into your hair.

You don’t know what song he’s humming.

You found yourself sighing with a weird kind of pleasure, sinking further into the warm water that soothed your aching muscles, and relaxing against his soft chest. He seemed satisfied by how much you were relaxing and wrapped both arms around your middle, pressing his face into your hair and taking in a long inhale of you.

It felt nice.

Maybe you should just stop denying yourself pleasure and accept the good things he was offering.

Your body was so close to his that you could feel every part of him, the twitches in his muscles, the shifting of his arms and legs around you, the initial stirrings of arousal of his cock against your backside.

It was easy to forget that he was your captor now, and not...something else.

An older boyfriend your mother didn’t approve of, a mentor you were growing closer and closer to, a cute stranger who picked you up at a bar for a consensual fucking.

The warm water of the bath, the steam fogging up every surface, his slick skin against yours, all made it easy to forget the world outside, the pain in your body, and the injuries that you had already sustained.

It felt like it was just you and him alone, in that tiny, enclosed space.

"Relax," He breathed softly in your ear, the warm breath from his every word tickling your neck and making you shiver. “Let me take care of you.”

“Mm…” You sighed as he rubbed his thumbs over your nipples. “That’s…ah, that’s nice.”

“Mmmhmm,” He echoed softly, the rumbling of his voice vibrating through his chest, making you shiver once more.

The heat of the water was inviting, as was his embrace. Strade drew his hands along your ribs and up your chest, squeezing and groping them lazily, sleepily, gently, his touch so soft now.

He didn’t seem interested in hurting you anymore.

In fact, it felt almost like the opposite...

But…

You couldn’t help but notice the swirling of crimson blood in the water.

How comforting the water had been, and yet, how much iit stung the deep wound in your foot, the cuts up your thighs and across your chest.

How the person who had caused you such pain was so peaceful behind you, touching your body like he was scared you would break.

He had wanted to break you so badly before. Why was he now treating you so delicately?

You sighed quietly as his hand slid a little higher up, over your collarbone and...over your new collar. It wasn’t a particularly tight fit, but it was always there.

Always a reminder. A warning.

The feel of his hand grazing against the cold metal of the collar was...odd.

Strange.

Unnerving.

He stopped for longer at the collar, his fingers slowly wrapping around it. You knew he felt your tension increase, but he did nothing to further provoke you.

Just the same, his fingers remained there, almost like he was waiting for something.

"What?" You murmured softly, your eyes locked down on your bloody foot.

"Just..." He murmured, his voice oddly husky and rough from the close, confined space you two now shared. “Happy to have you here. That’s all.” “Hm…” You hummed. “Thanks. I guess.”

#strade btd #strade ykmet #strade x reader #strade x mc #qs #fics #drabbles

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sixgunluvr · 7 days

Text

I suck so bad at titles. Let me know if you have a good one for this.

Mature readers only, 18+, pairing Arthur with a female reader, dominance & submission, not too rough though

3.668 words

Your hand connected hard with Arthur's cheek, sending a loud smack echoing through the night. The sound of your palm against his flesh was like a shot of electricity, igniting a spark that traveled down to your core and settled in the pit of your stomach.

"How dare you?!" your voice cracked with pain and pure fury.

The sting on your hand was nothing compared to the raw emotion coursing through your veins.

Arthur recoiled from you as if he had just received a physical blow, bringing his hand up to his cheek. He was taken aback by your sudden eruption, eyes wide as he looked at you in shock.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" he exclaimed, rubbing his cheek.

"Micah told me of your little whore in town today!" you screamed. Your chest heaved with rage and your fists clenched at your sides.

You had spent the past week waiting for his return, holding onto the memories of your passionate encounters and the tenderness he had shown you. You believed that his feelings for you were just as strong, that he would want nothing more than to come back to you as soon as he could.

But now, as you stood there in the middle of the night, facing the man you thought you knew so well, your whole world came crashing down.

Arthur had a look of utter confusion, "Micah? Whore in town?"

"Darlin I haven't a clue as to what you're talking about," he protested.

You looked to all the men sitting around the fire. They all had looks of confusion on their faces. It was clear that none of them had heard about any such thing as a "little whore in town."

You looked Arthur up and down. He had the same rugged, handsome face that you fell in love with. His medium-length brown hair was disheveled from travel and his green eyes had a hint of worry. His muscular build was evident even through his clothes.

But now something felt different.

"What's going on?" one of them asked, breaking the stunned silence.

But you couldn't answer yet. Your mind was racing with thoughts and emotions, and you were struggling to process everything. "I-I need some time," you stammered out, before turning and rushing off into the darkness.

Arthur called your name running after you and caught up to you, grabbing your arm.

"Stop, wait! I don't know what that bastard told you, but it ain't true!" he said urgently.

You turned to face him, eyes glistening with tears.

"Then what is it, Arthur? What am I to you?" you asked, voice shaking with emotion.

He looked at you for a moment, then stepped closer, pulling you into his arms.

"You're everything, darlin'. I've been gone for a week, and I couldn't stop thinkin' about you.

My body aches for you, darlin'. I missed the feel of your soft skin, the taste of your lips, and the way your body responds to my touch.

You looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and fear, searching his eyes for the truth. He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I know I ain't been here for a while, but I swear to God, it don't change how I feel about you. I need you, darlin'."

You didn't know what to think. Micah was not exactly known for his honesty, but there was something in Arthur's eyes that convinced you that he was telling the truth. You couldn't help but soften at his words.

Slowly, you nodded your head in understanding.

"Why would he make up such a story?" you asked, leaning your head against Arthur's chest as you took in his soothing scent.

"Be cause he's an asshole and he's been after you since day one. He's gonna do whatever it takes to break us apart.

But I promise you, there ain't no one else but you," he whispered, before capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. Your bodies melted into one another as his hands roamed over your curves. Your breasts pressed against his chest, the heat from his body spreading throughout you like wildfire.

Your tongue darted out, exploring the depths of his mouth as if you were trying to taste his very soul.

"Oh, Arthur," you murmured against his lips before he nibbled on your lower lip, biting down gently. You groaned as he slid his hands down your back, gripping your ass firmly before grinding you against him.

You could feel the hard length of his cock pressing into you, and it made your thighs rub together in anticipation. His fingers found the hem of your dress and tucked it up, exposing your bare flesh to the cool night air.

The sensation of his rough fingertips against your delicate skin sent a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to break out across your body. Arthur's hands continued to roam, squeezing your ass before moving up to grope your breasts through your blouse. He pinched and twisted your nipples until they were hard nubs, making you gasp against his mouth. A moan escaped your lips as his fingers found their way between your legs, brushing against your slick folds.

"Oh Arthur," you murmured against his lips, your voice filled with pure desire.

At the sound of your moan, Arthur's self-control snapped. He roughly turned you around, pulling you tight against him.

You could feel his hard cock against your ass.

His hand was wrapped around your throat, not choking but possessively firm. His other hand was between your legs, two fingers plunged deep inside your pussy. A third finger rubbed against your clit, making you moan as pleasure coursed through you.

"You like that, darlin'?" he asked, nipping at your earlobe.

"You wanna play rough?" he asked , his voice gravelly with arousal.

All you could do was nod, unable to find your voice. You could feel your wetness running down your thighs.

Arthur's fingers moved inside of you with precision and skill, finding that spot that sent you into a spiral of pleasure. He applied just the right amount of pressure, stroking and massaging until you were gasping for breath.

"Oh, God!" you cried out, your head falling back against his shoulder.

"You dirty little slut," he growled in your ear, his words sending another thrill of pleasure through you.

"You want me to take you right here, don't you?"

His fingers continued their relentless assault on your clit, each brush making it harder for you to breathe. You could only nod, whimpering as the pressure inside of you built higher and higher.

The thought of him taking you out here in the open, with the whole camp just a few feet away, was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Arthur's hand tightened around your throat, not enough to cut off your air but enough to remind you who was in control. His breath was hot against your ear as he continued to plunder your pussy with his fingers.

"You're mine," he growled, withdrawing his fingers from inside you with an audible pop before pushing you to bend over.

Your hands braced against a nearby tree, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. The cold night air didn't stand a chance against the heat radiating off of your flushed skin.

Arthur hiked up your dress, exposing your nakedness to the elements. You shivered in anticipation, a whimper escaping your lips as you felt him fumbling with his belt and pants. His hard length sprang free, hot and heavy against the curve of your ass.

Without warning, he thrust inside you, filling you up completely.

You gasped in pleasure as his cock bottomed out, the rough hair on his balls tickling your clit with each movement.

"Oh, fuck me," you groaned, pushing back against him in an attempt to take him deeper.

Arthur took the hint and began to move, thrusting into you with the raw force of an animal. Each stroke hit deep inside you, touching something that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

The cool night air around you contrasted sharply with the heat building inside of you, stoked by each punishing stroke.

Arthur's callused hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he fucked you with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath.

"You're so tight, so wet, darlin'," he grated out, his voice low and strained. "So fucking perfect."

His praise only served to drive you higher, to push you closer to the edge of ecstasy. You could feel yourself getting close, that familiar tension starting to build deep inside of you.

"Don't stop," you begged, as he slammed into you again and again.

Leaning over you he grabbed your neck once again.

In a low gutteral growl he demanded,

"Say it, darlin'. Tell me who the fuck you belong to."

You could feel his breath against your neck, hot and heavy.

Without a moment of hesitation you moan out,

"You. I belong to you, Arthur."

His grip on your neck tightened in response, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

"That's right. You're mine and only mine. That fucker, Micah will never have you," he hissed, as he picked up the pace.

His hips moved with a fierce urgency, driving in and out of you with a bruising force. With each thrust, the tree bark dug into your hands, leaving small crescent moons imprinted on your palms. You didn't care; you welcomed the pain. It was another reminder that this man, this outlaw cowboy, was claiming you as his own.

Your pussy clenched around him, gripping him tight as the tension inside of you reached its breaking point.

With a cry of pleasure, you toppled over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like a wildfire. Your vision went white, and for a moment, the only thing you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears. You had never felt anything like this before, not even with Arthur.

But somehow, Arthur seemed to know exactly what to do. His cock remained rock-hard inside of you as your pussy clenched in spasms around him. He continued to thrust into you, causing another wave of pleasure to crash over you.

You had never been so filled up, so completely and utterly dominated by a man.

"Please, Arthur, please," you begged, not knowing what exactly you were asking for.

Arthur obliged, quickening his pace as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the cool night air. He let go of your neck and reached around to grip your breasts. He pinched and pulled at your nipples, eliciting a high-pitched cry from your lips with every stroke.

The combination of the pain and pleasure pushed you higher and higher, and you could feel another orgasm rushing towards you like a tidal wave.

"You come for me again, like a good girl," he growled.

Arthur never slowed down. In fact, if anything, he picked up his pace. With one hand still gripping your breast, the other moved down between your legs. His fingers found your clit, already swollen and sensitive from the attention it had received, and began to rub slow circles around it.

Each rotation made your hips buck, seeking more friction. You could feel yourself getting close to the edge again, and it was a sensation that both thrilled and terrified you.

"That's it, darlin'," Arthur growled in your ear, his breath hot on your neck. "Come for me again."

His words were like a trigger, and with one final thrust of his hips, you toppled over the edge once more. Waves of pleasure washed over you, making your legs tremble and your vision go black.

Your orgasm seemed to last an eternity, each contraction of your muscles sending a jolt of pure ecstasy through your body.

Finally, you collapsed against the tree trunk, gasping for breath as your racing heart slowed. Arthur withdrew from you slowly, leaving you feeling sore and empty. You knew there would be bruises on your hips and thighs tomorrow, but you didn't care. The pain was a reminder of what you had just experienced.

Arthur pulled up his pants and turned you around, gathering you into his arms.

You could feel the tremors wracking your body, and he chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

"Easy there, darlin'," he said softly. "Let's get you inside."

He led you back to camp, his arm around your waist for support. The men around the fire watched as you passed, but no one said a word. They all knew that Arthur had claimed you and were wise enough to keep their opinions to themselves.

Arthur threw a blanket over your shoulders, tucking it around you to stave off the chill in the air.

When you reached Arthur's tent, he gently guided you inside, settling you onto his bed. You could still feel the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through your body, leaving you feeling almost boneless.

"Don't move," Arthur said softly, before disappearing into the night.

You lay there on his bed, wrapped in the warmth of his blanket and the memories of what had just transpired between you.

Your skin was still flushed from the heat of your bodies, and you could feel every tender inch of your flesh that Arthur had touched.

He returned a few minutes later, carrying a steaming bowl of water and a washcloth in one hand. He set them down on the small table next to the bed before kneeling between your legs. The intimacy of the moment was not lost on you, and you couldn't help but blush at the thought of him seeing you vulnerable and exposed.

But then, Arthur had already seen every inch of your body, had already claimed you as his own.

The memory of his fingers inside you, the scrape of his fingernails against your sensitive flesh, made a shiver run down your spine. You wanted him again, wanted to feel the weight of him above you, wanted to hear the rough growl of his voice as he thrust inside you.

Arthur's eyes met yours, and you could see the hunger in them. He knew exactly what you were thinking, knew exactly what you needed.

He took the washcloth from the bowl and wrung it out before bringing it to your core. You gasped as the warm water washed over you, soothing your sensitive skin. Arthur's touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he cleaned you up before tossing the cloth aside.

"Open for me," Arthur said gruffly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You obeyed without hesitation, spreading your legs wide so that he had full access to your dripping pussy. He groaned at the sight of your wetness, his cock twitching in his pants.

"Fuck, you're soaked," he said, his voice low and raspy. You blushed at his words, feeling self-conscious but also turned on. You had never been so wet for anyone before.

Arthur's eyes held a primal hunger that made your heart race and your skin flush. You watched as he stood, slowly undoing the buttons of his pants, letting them fall to the ground. His cock was already hard, already pointing at you like an accusatory finger.

"Please," you whispered, not even sure what you were begging for.

"All in good time," Arthur said, crooking a finger at you. "Come here."

You stood, moving towards him on shaky legs.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath hitching as you watched him stroke his cock.

"That's it, darlin'," Arthur growled, his voice thick with desire.

You stopped in front of him, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch him. The skin of his cock was like velvet over steel, and the heat of him made you gasp. Arthur's eyes fluttered closed as you began to stroke him, matching the rhythm of his own hand.

"That's right, darlin'," he murmured, "just like that."

You whimpered as he took your hand in his and wrapped it around his cock, guiding you in how he liked to be touched. His other hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you closer until your breasts were pressed against his chest.

"Look at me," he commanded, and you obeyed, gazing into his eyes as you continued to stroke him. They were dark with desire, filled with a fierce hunger that made your stomach clench with anticipation.

With his free hand he began unbuttoning your blouse, revealing your breasts and tight hard nipples. He bent down and sucked one into his mouth, biting down gently and teasing the sensitive bud with his tongue.

"Oh, God," you moaned, your grip on his cock tightening as pleasure coursed through you.

He switched to the other nipple, lavishing it with attention until both were hard peaks of desire. All the while, you continued to stroke him, mimicking the motion of his hand on his own cock.

His fingers tightened on your hip as he guided you towards the bed.

His other hand was still wrapped around your own, working the length of his cock in a slow but steady pace. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, scorching your chest as he feasted on your tits.

The pleasure was so intense it almost brought you to tears, but Arthur's hand on your hips held you firmly in place, pinning you between the heat of his body and the cold of the bed behind you.

"Goddamn, girl," he grunted against your skin, biting down on your nipple.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

You could only nod, too lost in pleasure to form words. His fingers found your entrance, slipping inside easily as you moaned in appreciation.

"So fucking tight," he growled, his fingers crooked and hitting that spot deep within you that made you see stars.

He pumped them in and out of you at a slow pace, drawing out the sensation until you were begging for more.

"Please," you gasped, reaching down to grip his wrist.

Arthur's fingers slowed, and he looked up at you with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Please what?"

"Please," you begged, your voice hoarse with desire. "I need more."

He smirked, pulling his fingers out of you with a wet sound. You whimpered at the loss, but before you could protest, he pressed his cock against your entrance.

"You ready for me?" he asked, his voice low and husky. You couldn't speak, so you nodded frantically.

He quickly turned you around and held your hip with one hand and pushed your back down with the other.

You planted your palms on the bed and locked your elbows.

Tonight he was all about dominance and control, and you couldn't help but submit to him.

He spread your cheeks apart and paused to admire the beauty of your body, before slowly pushing the tip of his cock inside you.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

His grip tightened on your hips as he thrust into you, filling you up with a force that left you gasping for breath.

He wasn't gentle or considerate - he was raw and unhinged, exactly how you liked it.

The roughness of his treatment only heightened your pleasure and excitement, your slick pussy gripping him tightly as he thrust into you. With each stroke, you felt yourself get closer to the edge until you finally tumbled over the brink, crying out as the ecstasy washed over you in waves.

Arthur didn't let up, continuing to pound into you with reckless abandon until he too reached his end. You collapsed on the bed, panting heavily as he pulled out and flopped down next to you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You could hear your own breathing, shallow and labored, and the sound of Arthur's chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The air in the tent was thick and heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as you lay there, sated and spent.

Arthur was the first to break the silence. "You okay, darlin'?" he asked, turning to face you. His eyes were soft, concerned, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for him.

You nodded weakly, still trying to catch your breath. Arthur smiled and pulled you into a tight embrace, his hand gently stroking your hair as you tried to regain some semblance of normalcy.

But the truth was, nothing about this felt normal. You had just experienced something intense and primal, something that went beyond mere physical pleasure. It was as if Arthur had claimed a piece of your soul, and it left you feeling both elated and terrified all at once.

As the silence stretched on, you couldn't help but feel the weight of what had just happened bearing down on you.

Your body still hummed with pleasure, but your mind was racing, trying to process the events that had unfolded between you and Arthur.

Arthur's arms tightened around you, as if sensing your thoughts. "Don't worry about it too much," he murmured in your ear, his voice soft and soothing. "We both wanted it, and there's nothin' wrong with that."

His words seemed to calm you, and you relaxed into his embrace. But as the minutes ticked by and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, a sudden thought struck you.

Had anyone else in the camp heard you and Arthur? The idea of being caught in the act sent a thrill of fear down your spine, but it also fueled your desire.

With a sly grin, you reached out and wrapped your hand around Arthur's growing erection, giving it a squeeze. "Again?" you whispered in his ear.

Arthur groaned and rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath him. "You're insatiable," he growled, his eyes dark with desire.

"Only for you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 7 months

Text

close to home | chapter sixty nine

plot: the reader continues to heal, and her and Daryl have a talk

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 2,084 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd

“Careful, careful… ow! Careful, Daryl.” You winced in pain as your husband pulled off your bandages. They were stuck from the dried blood, and it felt like he was pulling off a million bandaids.

Daryl rolled his eyes at you as he got the last one off, and you sighed with relief and dug your head further into the pillow to get comfortable. Dog was whining at the foot of your bed, and Daryl had to keep yelling at him to be quiet.

You looked down at the new scars on your arms. Visions of what happened flashed in your mind, and you had to look away. But of course, the one on your stomach was the most blaring. A direct threat to your life was cut into you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked at Daryl, who was preparing the other bandages.

You set a hand on your belly, which looked almost normal with you lying on your back. It poked out a little, though. And you could tell the difference.

“‘Aight, lemme see ya arm,” Daryl said as he knelt beside the bed. He carefully laid them out on your arms and then wrapped them. “They gonna be good soon. Maybe another two days.”

“Thank you,” You whispered as you stared at him. He looked so handsome it made your heart ache. When he went to work on your other arm, you brushed his hair back to caress his face. “You’re so pretty.”

His cheeks lit up, and he shook his head, which made you smile.

After tending to your other arm and then your stomach, you grabbed his face and pulled him into a slow kiss. His lips were soft against yours while his hand firmly gripped your waist. When you pulled away slowly, you left a few more quick but soft kisses against his lips.

“I love you so much, handsome.”

Daryl nodded and kissed you again. You could tell something was wrong when he pulled away, but he said he would take Dog out one more time before you went to bed.

You sighed when he left and sat up. The worst part that hurt was your nose, eyes, and stomach. But after a few days of rest, you felt better than you thought. Being shot was worse. Physically, at least. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see Alpha’s and Beta’s faces and hear your friends dying.

The room felt too quiet then, and you quickly closed the shutters before taking off your bra and putting on one of Daryl’s shirts. It was cold in the room, but you didn’t feel like sleeping with pants on, so you climbed into the bed and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Finally you heard Dog barking at the door and then Daryl walked in.

“What took you so long?”

“Ask Dog. Needed to smell every Goddamn thing.

You watched Daryl lie out a blanket for the dog and then change. You wolf-whistled when he took off his shirt--which he replied to with a middle finger--and then finally, he shut the light off and got into bed next to you.

The bed dipped as you moved closer to Daryl and forced your way into his arms. His arm wrapped around you tightly, and you looked up at him. “You haven’t said much.”

He hesitated for a second. “Just don’ know what to say, I guess.”

“You haven’t said anything about what happened. Talk to me.”

You saw the outline of his hand near his mouth, and you pulled it away to keep him from biting on his nail. He sighed loudly and looked at you, but you couldn’t see his face. “I wanna kill ‘em. Every single last one of ‘em. I want ‘em dead for what they did to ya. For all of it.”

“Me too.”

“I thought I killed him. The one who calls himself Beta. Thought I killed him in the elevator. If I had… maybe-.”

“Daryl, no.” You cut him off. “Don’t even start that game. This wasn’t your fault.”

“She did it to ya ‘cause I didn’ give up the girl. ‘S my fault. ‘M sorry, (Y/N).” Daryl said. His hand pressed against the side of your face as you sighed. You leaned forward, finding his lips in the dark.

“I won’t be able to make you think otherwise, and I’m not foolish enough to try. But Daryl, I don’t blame you. And if you need it, I forgive you. I don’t blame you at all. Okay?” You saw him nod.

“Why didn’ ya tell me ‘bout the baby sooner? How long did ya know?”

You bit your lip and laid your head back down against his shoulder. “I had a hunch before Tora… before I went on the run with Rosita and Eugene. But I didn’t know for sure until we got back to the Hilltop after finding Lydia.”

“Are ya kiddin’ me? Ya knew, and ya still went out there? Ya put yourself at risk.”

You ran your hand along his bare chest to try and calm his anger down. “I wasn’t going to let you go out there alone, Daryl. I’m with you. Whenever and whatever.”

He shook his head. “Ya can’t… not anymore. Ya gotta stay safe. If I lose ya, or the baby, I don’t….”

“You’re not going to. I’m fine.” You said. “But after this, once we get back to Alexandria, I promise you I will stay within the walls as long as you aren’t in any danger, Dixon.”

***

Daryl couldn’t sleep that night. Dog kept whining at the door because he didn’t like being cooped up, and there was too much on his mind. He kept replaying the image of finding you, again and again, over and over, in his head.

He thought you were dead. The way you were covered in blood, limply tied up to a pike with his friends' heads above you. When he lifted your head, and your eyes didn’t open, he was so distraught he lost the small amount of food he’d eaten that day. But when Siddiq said they kept you alive, God, he was so relieved.

And now you were here, sleeping next to him. You were injured, mentally and physically, so much so that he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to help you. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for you. He didn’t want to. If he did, he’d hunt down every last one of those freaks until they were dead.

He sighed loudly and rolled over onto his stomach. The bed dipped as you turned as well. Your shirt had rolled up a bit in your sleep, and he could see your belly from the moonlight coming in.

How could he not have noticed? He felt like an idiot.

And he was furious with you. He wanted to scream at you for not telling him, even before you knew for sure. He couldn’t believe—well, he could—that you went out with Rosita and Eugene and then with him to find Henry. He wanted to throttle you over it. But he couldn’t. Not after everything you’d been through. And worst of all, he understood. He would do anything for you, no matter the situation, no matter what held him back.

You started stirring in your sleep, and he felt you start twitching.

“No…,” You mumbled. “Don’t…”

“Hey, hey,” Daryl said, immediately trying to soothe you. He set his hand on the top of your head and used the other to gently shake you awake.

Your mumbles got louder before you started thrashing on the bed. Your eyes finally opened as you sat up and were near hyperventilating.

“Don’t touch me!” You screamed in horror as the last of your nightmare drifted away.

“Ya okay,” Daryl said, sitting up. “Ain’ nobody here to hurt ya.”

Even in the dark, he could see your expression as you looked at him, and it was like a punch to the gut when you started crying and fell into him. “I saw him. I was back there in the barn and.. and…” You sobbed.

Daryl stayed quiet as he rubbed the back of your head. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself from going to find Beta and kill him.

Your hands were holding onto his arm desperately, and he pulled you closer.

“When I was in there, they had me tied up to watch them kill all our friends.” Your voice was a whisper, and Daryl froze. You hadn’t spoken a word about what happened until now. He had the general idea but hadn’t heard your story yet. “I tried to fight. I could kick some of them down, but they just got back up…

“And then, once they were dead, Alpha told me she would kill me first. But she didn’t wanna kill the baby. I guess the womb is a no-go, but once it’s out, it’s natural selection.” He thought about the baby Tammy Rose and Earl had and where the baby came from.

“They both did it. Alpha made the cuts, the threats. But Beta… he’s the one who beat me.”

Daryl stiffened his arms around you and pressed his lips against the top of your head. He held back his tears to let you find comfort in his own strength.

“I was so out of it. I could barely remember you guys finding me. I just remember thinking I would die and that you’d find me and…” Your voice trailed off.

Daryl didn’t know what to say, not that that surprised him. He wasn’t the best at words unless they were in anger.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, and he pulled away to look at your face. “For what?”

“For everything. For putting myself in danger and not thinking about the consequences. For you to find me like that. I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy…” Your voice trailed off, and you set your hands on the sides of his face.

“Don’ even think ‘bout that, darlin’. Ya don’ worry ‘bout me.”

He closed his eyes when you rubbed your soft fingers against his cheeks and felt his body calm down at the touch. Then you pressed your forehead against his lips, and he kissed it a few times.

“I love you.” Your voice was a whisper, and he leaned his forehead against yours. He could hear how unsteady your breathing was.

“I love ya too, darlin’.”

Your hands were still tight around his face when you looked up at him. You kissed him gently, and Daryl felt his heart leap like every other time. It didn’t matter how long it’s been since he met you or the first kiss the two of you shared. It always made him feel the same.

“Thank you.” Again, you whispered.

“For what?”

“For being you. For being everything to me.” His eyes opened, and they met yours. “I used to think that we only work ‘cause of this world. That before, we wouldn’t have. But I know we would’ve. I would crave your touch like I do now, thinking about you all day. I think we were made for each other. Period.”

Daryl was glad for the dark, so you couldn’t see how his eyes shone. Your words meant everything to him. They were everything he needed to hear and more. His heart was beating fast, and he bit his lip.

“Ya really mean that?”

You nodded and leaned your forehead against his lips. He smiled before giving you a kiss. He loved when you did that. When you wanted physical touch and the way you told him without words. It was his language you spoke in, and he savored it.

“We gonna be okay,” Daryl whispered against your skin. “We gonna get ya home to Alexandria, and we gonna be okay. I promise ya.”

“I do wanna go home. I wanna be in Alexandria. This room reminds me of everything bad that happened to me.”

“We can go to Alexandria soon, once ya able to. ‘Mma get ya home, baby girl.”

You nodded and laid back against the bed, cuddling up to Daryl as soon as he joined you. “Sleep.” He said, rubbing his hand on your back. “Ya safe, Dog ain’ lettin’ anything touch us.”

***

You and Daryl spent the next few days at the Kingdom before you were ready to go home. Your cuts were just scabs now, and your eyes were yellowing. Your nose would heal soon, but it was still broken with a bandage.

Jerry made sure you and Daryl had more than enough food to last the way, and it was sad to say goodbye to his family. But it was worse saying goodbye to Carol, who was grieving. The two of you sat and cried for a good hour, and you apologized for not being able to protect Henry, but she wouldn’t hear it. She even came to see you and Daryl off.

It took a day and a half to get to Alexandria on horseback, and when you finally saw those walls, you wanted to cry with happiness. Aaron wrapped you up in a big hug when you walked through the gate and hugged Daryl, too.

And, of course, seeing the kids meant everything to you. Judith was ecstatic that you were home safe, and RJ held your hand the entire way back to your house.

Michonne smiled as soon as she saw you and Daryl and gave you a hug. “I’m so happy to see you,” She said. Then she gave Daryl a hug. “And you, too.”

“We’re happy to be home.” You said. “How is everything here?”

You could see the light in her eyes dim a little, but she nodded. “We’re okay.”

You grabbed Daryl’s hand and followed the Grimes family into your house. It smelt like home, and you felt yourself relax.

“I spoke to Aaron. The third floor’s bedroom shared a bathroom with a second room. It’s not finished. But I thought it would give you two more space once the baby moves.” Michonne said.

You sat down at the center island, and Daryl gave you water within a minute.

“Really?” You asked. “I never go up there, never even thought about it.”

“The baby is gonna need windows. Can’t keep it in the basement.” Michonne gave Daryl a pointed look.

“Baby’s a girl.” Daryl sat next to you.

Michonne smiled as Judith cheered, going on about how she was so happy to have a girl cousin, which only made you smile and run your hand against the back of her head.

After catching up with them, you and Daryl walked to the third floor. You knew it was mostly where supplies were kept: clothes for the kids, winter clothes, and old baby stuff that would come in handy sooner rather than later.

The bathroom was finished, just missing supplies, and it needed painting, and there were broken tiles. Both bedrooms connected to the bathroom weren’t finished; some of the walls were still wood. But it was bigger than your bedroom downstairs, and it would offer more privacy. And you knew how much Judith and RJ didn’t want you to move out.

“What do you think? We could finish it?” You asked, putting your hand on your stomach as you turned to look at him.

Daryl was already staring at you. And he had been, from his spot, leaning against the doorframe.

“I love ya.”

You smiled and walked over to him. “I love you, too, old man.”

#daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x reader #twd #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #daryl twd #daryl x you

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mamayan · 7 months

Text

Hear me out…

We all know crusty dusty Tomura.

But how about the flavor of non-traumatized but still sociopathic and sadistic Tenko?

Tenko who has silky black hair to match his sweet cherry eyes. He’s a handsome pretty picture especially when he smiles.

Tenko who seems sociable and almost nice at first, but is quick to prey on weakness and feed off fear.

Tenko who likes chess/shogi more than video games.

Tenko who knows how to wear a mask and manipulate the room. Easily gaining support and fans, hardly any effort used to impress others because his favorite game of all is playing with you.

Tenko who drops the facade when it’s just you two alone together.

Tenko who torments and ruins your life for nothing else but his own sick amusement, turning everyone he can against you because he can.

Tenko who loves to see you cry, who uses soft flowery words with everyone else but you. “What’s wrong? Everyone finally figure out what a worthless piece of shit you are?” Feeding off your rage and anger, any and all emotions you express, because he adores you.

Tenko who convinces his wealthy family to get to know your own, to tangle your lives together into a web you can’t escape. His mother already loves you, and you’re too trained by society to fight back against him.

Tenko who reveals what his quirk can really do. “You should really tell that boy from class 3 to fuck off. Unless you want him to die. Is that what you’re into? Fuck, you’re really a freak… alright then~♡” he’ll dust a notebook or a favorite stuffed animal as he hangs out in your room while your families talk downstairs. Rolling his eyes as tears drip down your face and you beg for him to stop.

Tenko who cups your cheeks and grins down at you, hands gloved in quirk canceling silk, whispering all the crimes he’s committed to your horror and fear.

Tenko who loves making you do things rather than forcing you physically. He starts small, making you run errands for him, chores, homework. Then he escalates it, making you help him cheat even though he doesn’t need you to, blackmailing you with that into deeper and more sinful things as you both grow up and move on to college.

Tenko who makes you sneak into the boys dorm hall and into his room so he can make you strip and capture cute pictures of you on his phone, only to use that as a threat for later. “Wouldn’t want this showing up in the dean’s office, would you?” He’ll smile, his face so sweet as he degrades you further into nothing but his personal slave.

Tenko who makes you strip naked and crawl when you enter his room.

Tenko who buys a diamond encrusted color with his name engraved on it, tailored perfectly for your neck. He forces you to wear it even in public after a certain point. You’re too desensitized to even think this as cruel, merely a whimsical amusement for him.

Tenko who starts adding to his body count, and not his bedroom one, when he catches any lustful gaze shot your way.

Tenko who takes pleasure in recording the murders and forcing you to watch, tied up on his bed while he holds a vibrator to your clit and makes you cum. “You’re not any better than me are you? Don’t lie slut, look how much you came watching me dust that low life.”

Tenko who likes having you ride him, even for your first time. To see you struggle past the biting pain of taking his thick cock inside your virgin cunt the first time, hanging the threat of another death over your head to encourage your hips to move and bounce. He enjoys seeing all of you, but especially you trying to please him.

Tenko who goes wild with rage and mania when you even attempt to leave his side. “I’ll fucking end you before I let you go. Do you understand?” He’d rather kill you than let another have you.

Tenko who fucks you like a wild animal and damn near almost kills you with his quirk in his unhinged state.

Tenko who apologizes by overstimulating you to a mess and leaving you like that when he’s finished.

Tenko who gets hard causing you any and all types of misery. His favorite is psychological, because he likes making you please him, and that requires a bit of strength left on your end. He’s not above getting physical when you piss him off though.

Tenko who grows softer when you fully break, completely shattering for him and leaving him to piece you back together however it suits him. Petting you, kissing you, holding you gently, because you’re completely his now aren’t you? He can break or care for you however he pleases.

Tenko who marries you and consumes you like some sort of demon, binding your soul to him in a combined system of co-dependency and the inability to survive on your own, financially and emotionally reliant on him for everything.

Tenko who loves you ♡

Post dividers created by @cafekitsune

#just thoughts lol #my WIPs burning in the backround #Tomura Shigaraki #mha tenko #bnha Tenko x reader #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere Tenko #bnha #tomura shigaraki x reader smut #Tenko shimura smut #yandere Tenko shimura #Tenko shimura x reader #shiggy stans #Tenko shimura HC #shigaraki tomura HC

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elen-aranel · 8 months

Note

Helloo~ May I make a Christopher Pike x reader request? It's a month old scuttlebutt, that the captain is involved with you, based solely on misconstrued events (leaving the direction of his quarters early morn in a rumpled uniform, stopping by medbay for a 'shot') Everyone knows that everyone knows, from cadet to captain. Except you don't. And noone has bothered checking. And the captain finds it funny (and you 'apparently' don't mind either as you've not bothered to shoot it down) so any moments you two have in view of others, he gives you a conspirational wink with some flirty banter. You think (hope) he's really flirting and not just being friendly.

Is it a bit much for a request? If so lemme know. Or i can commission? Idk. The idea hit me and it made me giggle with all the ways it could go.

Thank you so much for the request, and for your patience... this took a while! I hope you like the direction I've gone with it <333

Common Knowledge

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings/Notes: Reader wears the dress version of the standard SNW uniform. Food mentions, alcohol mention. WC: 5.8k

It all starts the morning after you spent gamma shift in a Jeffries tube. Well. Several Jeffries tubes, in fact, chasing down an issue with a relay that had blown and taken a bunch of circuitry out with it, including some life support systems.

You’re feeling good, though, as you step out into the corridor on a deck full of crew quarters. Yes, your red uniform dress is creased and you’re in dire need of a shower, but the relay and the burned-out circuitry are replaced, and all systems are back online.

You deserve a water shower, not a sonic one, you tell yourself as you head toward the turbolift, nodding to the occasional officer as you walk by them. You just need to make sure the ops console on the bridge is reading everything correctly, then your duty shift will be done.

“Commander, Lieutenant,” you greet Lieutenant Commander Chin-Riley and Lieutenant Ortegas as you enter the turbolift. Unlike you, they both look fresh and ready to face the day. Number One nods in greeting, but Ortegas looks you up and down quite blatantly, and you find you’re trying to smooth your skirt despite yourself.

“Long night?”

“I—” you start, but before you can reply—

“Computer, hold. Open the doors,” Commander Chin-Riley says, and as you turn, Captain Pike is walking into the lift. And somehow, even though you’ve been on the Enterprise for a while, you’re never not struck by his presence. His broad shoulders. How handsome he is.

“Good morning, Number One, Ortegas. Lieutenant.” He puts an odd weight on your title, even though of course he knows your name, and then your mind goes blank as he winks one of those blue eyes.

“C-captain,” you stutter, well aware of Ortegas trying to stifle a laugh next to you.

“Sleep well?” Una asks, something knowing in her voice, after the captain directs the turbolift to the bridge.

“I’ve had… more restful nights,” he says, and looks at you sideways, doubtless taking in your rumpled dress and less-than-fresh appearance. “Like the lieutenant here, I’d wager,” he adds, and you must have missed a memo somewhere because this ‘lift ride has gotten very weird, very fast.

You decide keeping quiet is your best bet — it’s a short ride, thank goodness.

But you can’t shake the feeling that there are eyes on you as you finish your work on the bridge.

It may have started in a Jeffries tube, but it continues in sickbay.

You appreciate knowing sickbay is there. Doctor M'Benga and Nurse Chapel are skilled at their jobs, and you’ve had cause to be grateful for them when accidents happen, from a pulled muscle during a workout to a painful plasma burn from faulty equipment.

That doesn’t mean you love getting your quarterly check-up and shots. But you decided early on in your career that you weren’t going to be one of those people doctors had to chase for their physicals. Every three months you turn up. You’re due for routine vaccinations against some common alien viruses that human immune systems need reminders about, and your contraceptive shot.

Not that you really need it, of course. You aren’t getting any. The closest you’ve been since you joined the Enterprise was Lieutenant Paulson, a senior engineer who sometimes commands gamma shift when you’re on that rotation. He asked you out to dinner on Starbase 1, and while you like him as a person, you had to decline. You’d known him for a while, and never felt any kind of spark. And there’s been no-one— there’s been almost no-one else on the ship that you’re interested in. But still, you get your shot.

Today your appointment is during your shift. You didn’t want to be interrupted; you’re working on a new scanning device to be used on a planet with an unusual combination of atmosphere and magnetic field, which affects the resolution of normal scanners. So when your reminder went off you kept hold of your PADD, and you carried on entering the design parameters as you walked.

“Woah there,” a voice cuts through the equations you’re focussing on, and you feel hands on your arms, steadying you as you stumble.

As it turns out, walking with a PADD is a mistake.

Especially when you walk straight into the captain in the corridor outside sickbay.

“Captain! I’m so sorry! I—I was— I’ll pay more attention.” You look up, flustered, into his blue eyes, suddenly keenly aware of the bulk of him, of the controlled strength in his hands. Happily, he seems amused rather than annoyed, that half smile playing about his lips.

“I do admire your... dedication, Lieutenant, but you’re right. Paying attention is a good idea.”

And as the doors to sickbay swish open, letting Chief Kyle and one of your fellow engineers out onto the corridor, you realise the captain hasn’t moved. You’re still in his space, and he’s still holding you.

“Captain, Lieutenant... are you joining us?” Nurse Chapel looks as though she’s suppressing a smile. “You’re, uh... both here for your quarterly shots, right?” she adds, as Pike finally steps back, and you walk with him into sickbay. You nod, mutely.

“Yes. Timed it perfectly this time, didn’t we Lieutenant?” he says, and he grins at you, knowing.

“Sure,” you find yourself saying, sitting down a little abruptly on the biobed Doctor M'Benga indicates. Is Pike… flirting with you? Or just being his usual warm self?

“This shouldn’t take too long. I’m sure you want to get back to your... duties.” M'Benga looks meaningfully at Pike, who shrugs, a picture of innocence.

“Can you blame us?”

You can’t help your smile.

But actually, now you really think about it, maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it started with the onions.

You have a shift free, moving from nights to days as you do on a semi-regular basis, since some edict came down from Starfleet that people shouldn’t just work nights for health reasons. It doesn’t entirely make sense to you; you’re on a ship, so it’s not like anyone has a real day or night, but being able to socialise with people who are always on alpha is a plus, and you suppose the same rules apply to planetary bases which do have day and night.

The captain has invited you to dinner. That isn’t special, even though you wish it were – he likes to get to know the whole crew in an informal setting, and it’s just your turn. And maybe you over-think it just a little, during the day, planning what to wear to make yourself look pretty but not like you’d tried too hard.

Either way, you are early. You only realise as you press the chime for the door, when it’s too late to back out.

But the captain’s smile is warm and welcoming. “Hi, come in, come in. You any good with a vegetable knife?”

You grin in return, relaxing. “Yes sir. It’s been a little while, but I can chop.”

“Chris. We’re not on the clock right now.”

“Yes, Chris.” You follow him into the kitchen area of his quarters, taking in the fire, the view of a green forest through the windows, all the details that mark the space as his.

“Excellent. That spatial anomaly today— well. I’m playing catch-up here.”

“Oh wow, you really are...” the vegetables are all laid out ready, and there are a lot. But then, you don’t know how many people will be here. “Set me to work. How do you want the carrots?”

Pike’s knives are sharp and well balanced, and it’s easy to chop carrots into even circles, and to dice potatoes into neat cubes. You chat, too, about the food he’s making, and the special unit he had the ship’s botanists set up to let him grow fresh herbs in space.

You’re pretty much on autopilot by the time you get to the onions. You know the technique: you slice them in half through the root, then make sure you don’t cut the root again as you cut from close to the root to the tip, then across into chunks.

“So, there’s something I’m curious about,” you say as you grab the next onion.

“Oh?” Pike pauses for a moment, hand poised over the control for the oven.

“The forest overlay you have for the windows. Is it somewhere special to you? It’s really lovely.” You blink a little as you chop. Perhaps you got a lash or something in your eye.

Pike presses the control on the oven, then turns to look at you. “No, actually it’s—” he frowns. “Wait, are you all right?”

You blink again. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Your brow draws together, and you put your knife down, turning to him a little more.

“Because you’re crying.” He starts towards you.

“Oh, damn.” You can feel it now — that tell-tale sting in your eyes. You look down at your chopping. “The onions. But I was being careful.” You sigh, blink again, and feel a tear roll down your cheek.

“If there are a lot it doesn’t matter how careful you are. I’m sorry, I should have done them.” He reaches past you, and you’re terribly aware of him in your space. He pulls off a piece of kitchen towel.

“It’s not your fault—” the words die on your lips as he turns to face you, blue eyes filled with concern.

“I’ll just—I don’t want you to use your hands—” and he takes the towel and dabs your face, and you suck a little breath in at his closeness, wondering why it has to be in a circumstance like this, when the door chime goes. “Enter,” he says, distractedly, blotting away one more tear before stepping back. “There. No harm done. But you should wash up. Ah, Spock, perhaps you can take over the chopping.”

You look round to see that Spock, Sam Kirk, Ortegas and Uhura have all walked in, just in time to see you with red eyes from the onions. At least, you think as you wash the onion off your hands, your makeup is waterproof.

Regardless of how things did or did not start, you’re pretty sure the captain only thinks of you as a friend. That this flirting is just a joke between the two of you... even if you wish it were real. Either way, you decide you might as well enjoy it.

You get back to the transport point from your solo hike on Chi Orianis Prime – it’s beautiful, with fluffy peachy-pink grass that’s soft underfoot and smells very slightly citrus-y when you tread on it, interspersed with lavender coloured bushes, with views of blue lakes and red mountains in the distance – right as Pike gets back from his fishing trip. Given how he’s carrying his cooler, it must have been a successful one.

You’re just about to ask him about it when Chapel and Ortegas arrive, with Uhura and La’an in tow, laughing together. They’re wearing t-shirts and shorts and sandals, carrying towels — clearly back from the beach, La’an actually looking like she might have caught the sun a little.

You take a step closer to him.

“Enjoy your trip?” The smile on Erica’s face is just a little too innocent.

“Yes, thank you. Wouldn’t have been the same without the lieutenant here, though.” Pike catches your eye, and you smile back at him, sappy, playing along.

“The captain’s right. We had a good time.”

None of your close friends wanted to go to movie night with you tonight. They’re showing a classic 20th century Earth film, Casablanca, and none of them were interested in seeing something that old. But it seems pretty popular with the rest of the crew when you get there. You pick up some popcorn first, wondering once again whose idea it was to put a Starfleet delta on the containers, and you head to find a seat.

Maybe it was a good thing your friends didn’t come. There aren’t too many spaces left when you go to sit down, but there are a few seats a couple of rows in front of where Spock and Nurse Chapel are sitting together. You settle in, allowing yourself three pieces of popcorn before the lights go down.

And right before they do, Pike slides into the free seat next to you.

“I thought you were going to stand me up,” you tell him, tilting your popcorn container over.

“A gentleman would never,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he takes a piece.

The back of the shuttle is open to the bay, and Cadets Novakova and Manuel, on engineering rotation, are standing inside it with you, PADDs in hand. You’ve popped a panel off the inside of the shuttle, and you indicate a junction point.

“So, okay. You want to interplex the circuitry here. What will be the result of that? What are you hoping to achieve?”

“Well, the increased signal strength will improve thruster response time and efficiency.” Manuel says, shrugging his broad shoulders like it’s obvious.

“Yes, and we need better responsiveness for the planet. The atmospheric differentials are almost out of spec.” Novakova nods. “This is the easiest way to achieve that.”

“All right. And looking at the systems in front of you, will there be any other consequences?”

“No, there shouldn’t, it should just—” there’s a pause, then Novakova steps back, playing with a twist of her blonde hair as she considers. “Wait. That pathway, it connects to the impulse engine as well, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does, and the boosted signal would go through there too…” Manuel’s fingers fly over his PADD.

They look at each other as the penny drops, and you notice Pike in the bay, listening in. You tilt your head and raise a brow in a silent invitation, but he shakes his head a little, content to observe.

“So if we interplex the circuitry there, we will get an increase in thruster efficiency, but at the expense of introducing instability into the impulse control matrix.” Manuel sighs.

“You’re flying along, minding your business and then boom. Impulse reactor overload.” Novakova winces. “I didn’t see that.”

You nod. “You didn’t. Because neither of you really looked. For what it’s worth, it would probably have worked on the shuttles at the academy. But these are a different model. You have to work with what’s actually in front of you. That’s half the battle.”

“Wise words, Lieutenant.” Pike leans into the back of the shuttle, and you can’t help your smile at the praise as the cadets turn to acknowledge him. “The two of you should take them to heart.”

You're sitting on a bench in the bar, sipping a favourite drink, listening to Ensign Thyra play an Earth guitar but sing a wistful sounding song in her native Andorian, when Lieutenant Ortegas sits down next to you. And then Nurse Chapel sits on your other side.

“So, you and the captain. How’s that going?” Christine’s opening is straight to the point.

You give her a sceptical look. “It... isn’t? Hi to you too, by the way.” You turn to Erica. “To both of you.”

“Oh, come on. You guys are not subtle.” Erica rolls her eyes. “It’s been scuttlebutt for weeks. Me, Number One,” she starts counting off on her fingers, “Christine, Mbenga, Uhura...”

“Sam Kirk,” Christine adds.

“Yes, Sam Kirk, Spock, La’an...”

“We’ve all seen it. I even heard the cadets talking about it. Everyone knows.”

You shake your head, putting your drink down on the table in front of you. “We’re not... I don’t—” you look from one to the other. “There’s nothing between the captain and me.” You take a breath. “He flirts, sometimes I flirt back, but it’s just a joke.”

“Doesn’t look like a joke to me.” Christine says, her voice soft, almost sympathetic.

Erica shrugs. “It’s okay. You don’t have to admit it, if you guys are keeping things to yourselves... We just wanted you to know that we’re happy for you. Pike should have someone on the ship. And you. You should have someone too.” Her smile as she stands to leave is genuine.

“I—I’m not hiding anything. But thanks, I guess? I appreciate the sentiment.”

Arriving early when the captain invites you to a crew dinner is your habit now. You enjoy helping with prep when you can, and having a quiet moment to chat with Chris.

But this time you use the computer to check that others have arrived before you get there. You try to relax; these are your friends, Chris is your friend, but with what Erica and Christine said… you feel self-conscious. Second guessing everything you do and say.

You leave as soon as you can without being rude.

You feel a bit self-conscious with work, too, although you try to bury it. Especially with Pike piloting the shuttle for this mission. You’re sitting in your tactical uniform in the back of shuttle Kepler with Spock, Sam Kirk, La’an, and a couple more science officers. You would expect Kirk especially to pass some comment, but even he is quiet, because Zeta Lyrae VI’s wind shear is every bit as bad as science predicted.

A long-range scanning probe identified it as a possible source of dilithium as well as some other useful minerals — visual scan only, though, because the strange magnetic field prevented scanning of the interior. But that’s where the scanner you developed comes in. The visual scan also tagged some potential ruins which Kirk will investigate, and there’s general surveying to do too.

You grit your teeth against the turbulence. You trust that the captain’s piloting skills and the modifications you and the cadets made to the shuttle will see you safely to the ground, but you still feel motion sick. You know, though, there are pattern enhancers in the cargo. Perhaps you’ll be able to beam back up.

The turbulence lessens as you get deeper into the atmosphere, but you’re still very glad when the shuttle touches down. There’s a metallic tang to the air as the shuttle door opens, but it’s cool and refreshing despite that, and you take a deep breath, settling your rolling stomach, before you get to work.

The dawn sky of Zeta Lyrae IV is muted shades of pale blue and grey, warming a little to mauve-pink at the horizon, where the two suns have just risen. Barren-looking plains stretch out in front of you, with a river lazily meandering across, and there are hills leading to mountains not far away to your right. It’s hard to make out, but the lines of dark stones partially embedded in the ground to your left could well be the remains of a wall, and there are other, more defined structures further away in that direction.

“Lieutenant, you have everything you need?”

“Yes sir.” You lift your last case again, the heavy one, and try to keep your face blank at the weight of it. You know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but its contents were too large for your backpack. “I’ve identified a site two kilometres away that’s suitable for the scanner base. Enhanced scanning should be online within an hour.”

Pike nods. “Kirk, La’an, you have the ruins. Spock, the science survey is yours.” He turns to you. “Let me help with that.”

“I’m fine, honestly,” you protest as Pike takes the case from you, fingers brushing yours for one tiny electric moment.

“We’ll make quicker time if we share the load. Which I’m sure Spock will appreciate.”

“Aye, sir.”

You notice that there’s no flirtatious comment today.

This planet feels a bit like a dream, with its dead quiet, muted colours, pearly grey sky and the two suns gently highlighting the landscape. The only evidence you can see of the turbulent atmosphere are the occasional blue-green clouds scudding quickly across the sky.

You pick your way through the pathless terrain, looking for any signs of life. While there are scraps of ragged looking vegetation here and there, a lot of it seems dead, and the planet as a whole seems mostly barren.

You don’t make conversation; there’s something about the planet’s quiet and your confused emotions that steals your ability to make small talk, and Pike is quiet too. There’s just the sound of two pairs of boots crunching on the ground.

Until you almost step on a flower: a seven petaled bloom in the shape of a star, pale blue in the middle deepening to grey-purple just at the tips. You pause to get a better look, to see if there are any others like it nearby, but it seems solitary.

“Are you all right, Lieutenant?”

You look up to see Pike has stopped too, mild concern on his face.

“Yes sir, I’m fine.” You straighten up. “I just... this flower is the only one I’ve seen, and I wonder... is it the last gasp of the life that used to live on this planet, or is it a glimpse of hope for the future?”

Pike glances at the flower, but his focus is on you when he speaks. “We’ll likely never know, but I... I choose hope.”

The site you chose from the visual scan is obvious when you get there. You’re at the edge of the hills, and there’s a grey cliff curving round one edge of a flat open area. Geophysics had identified it as a potential location for dilithium, and as you get close you can see veins of the pink crystal running through the rock.

Now you just need to find out how much there is.

With Pike helping it doesn’t take too long to set the scanner up. You start with the base in the case he was carrying, and together you fold it out into a large circle, locking struts and its three legs in place.

You attach the probe that will drill into the soil, the antennas to communicate with the smaller unit near the shuttle and with the Enterprise, and to facilitate scanning in the atmosphere. Finally, you attach the computer from your backpack which is the brains of the system — you can’t help your private smile of satisfaction as it comes online. The shuttle is far enough away that its systems don’t affect the sensitive scans, and when the probe deploys and calibration data flows straight through immediately.

You talk to Commander Pelia and Lieutenant Spock on comms, making adjustments on the fly to the different parameters, optimising the uplink from the scanner and away team’s tricorders to the Enterprise.

Pike checks in with La’an at some point, but next time you look up you see he’s a little way away, tricorder out, following a standard scanning pattern working outward from where you are. You’re a little surprised he didn’t tell you that’s what he was going to do. Then the scanner beeps as the drill returns a result outside expected tolerances, pulling your focus.

It’s easier to get lost in your work than think about him, and for a long while, you do.

“Lieutenant, do you see that?” There’s a note of concern in Pike’s voice, and you follow his gaze to the horizon to your right.

It almost looks like a distant rain shower would on Earth, but there are green lights sparking all through it. Like lightning but less directional. You take a breath, and realise the metallic smell has intensified, to the point you can almost taste it.

“Yes, sir, I do.” You turn and meet Pike’s eyes.

“Plasma storm?”

“Plasma storm.” You redirect your scanner’s gain to maximum in that direction, sacrificing resolution elsewhere.

Pike’s tone is rueful. “Should’ve known when I scanned a burned patch of vegetation. It must have developed quickly.”

“Looks like it’s moving fast, too.”

“I’ll contact the rest of the away team, have them meet us at the shuttle. You start packing.”

“Sir,” you reply, distracted, already deep in the scanner readouts. You vaguely hear Pike calling Spock, then La’an, but you’re focused on one last scan.

“Lieutenant? I gave you an order.”

“Yes sir, you did, but look.” You point to the readout of the storm’s speed on the screen. “Scans show that even if we leave right now, we can’t make it back to the shuttle before the storm hits. We don’t even have time for them to pick us up.”

Pike frowns. “Options?”

“The cliff. There’s a cave system behind it. I don’t think there’s an entrance close enough, but...”

“Phasers? All this dilithium makes it risky.”

“Plasma burns are no fun, sir. I would know.”

He raises a brow. “Sounds like a story for later. All right. Let’s do this.”

You grab your phaser from your holster and dial the power up.

“Fire.”

You focus your beam on the weakest spot, and Pike fires at it too. And... nothing happens, for long enough for a shade of doubt to creep in. Then there’s a sound, a pile of rubble, and a gap. Just large enough for a person.

The cave is dark. It’s big, too, enough that the torches on your vests can’t illuminate the other side from where you are.

The storm is still raging outside, but the sound of it is quiet in here; the narrow space you opened the gap into curved round for a few metres before opening out into the space you’re in.

Now all you can do is sit and wait.

And you’re so aware of Pike, sitting with you.

He’s quiet, and now you come to think of it he has been all day. Definitely no flirting. You try to steal a glance at him, see what he’s thinking, but it’s too dark, and you don’t want to turn to face him.

You cast around for a distraction, and find a piece of dilithium embedded in the rock floor of the cavern next to you. The surface is flat and glassy-smooth, but with a few imperfections, and you like the feel of it under your fingers. In your head you go over the dilithium crystal eigenstates you memorised at the academy in one of your classes in warp field mechanics, and calculate the power output you would need for your phaser to trigger different levels.

“Sir, I’d like to try something, to give us some more light. It’s safe.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

You adjust your phaser to its second lowest setting, scoot across a little and fire on the dilithium, counting seconds in your head. It starts glowing red immediately, but as you shut the beam off the glow spreads, along one vein, then another, then another, until the whole cavern is lit up like its own galaxy, surrounding you on the floor, the walls, the ceiling.

“Wow, that’s—that’s good work. Thank you.”

There’s something in his expression as he looks at you, the wonder in his eyes melting into a smile, that makes you brave.

“So… I had an—an interesting chat with Chapel and Ortegas the other day.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently the scuttlebutt is that we’re dating... we’ve been dating for a while. They wouldn’t believe me when I told them it wasn’t true.” You stare out across the cavern at all the glimmering lights.

“Oh.” He exhales. “Hah, yeah… I’m, uh, sorry about that? Things… got away from me.” You hear him stir, move into a different position.

You frown. “I don’t understand. What are you sorry for?”

“I’ve always been interested in you. And you’re not the sort of person that’s cowed by rank – Paulson is your superior, in your chain of command, but I was in the bar when he asked you to dinner, and you were so sure of yourself when you rejected him. So that day in the turbolift, Una and Erica jumping to conclusions... Your face was a picture, and I had to take Una’s bait. But by the time she told me there was already a rumour, you were joining in, and I—”

His voice goes quiet, like a confession.

“I couldn’t stop. And that wasn’t fair to you… making you an object of gossip like that.”

“Chris, I—” but now it comes to it, you can’t find the words. How do you tell him that you wouldn’t mind, not at all, if only the gossip were real? “But you did stop. We’ve barely spoken today. Until now.”

“I can read the room. You weren’t up for it the other night. Or today. And… I would never force my attentions where they clearly aren’t wanted.”

“But... they are, Chris. They are wanted.”

The cavern is dead quiet, and you almost wonder if you actually spoke aloud. But the look in Pike’s eyes when you finally turn to meet them—

“Lieutenant Spock to Captain Pike. Come in, please.”

Pike shrugs a little, face apologetic, as he flips open his communicator.

The ride back to the Enterprise is as quiet, and bumpy, as the ride to the planet. Spock and the rest of the away team had sheltered in the shuttle with shields up while the storm passed over them, and when the Enterprise’s scanners had shown that another one was forming, they came to pick you up.

All the equipment you left outside was destroyed.

But you think, as you climb in the shuttle, you catch a glimpse of one of those star-shaped flowers, still intact. Still blooming.

And Pike makes a point to catch your eye as you leave the shuttle bay. It’s subtle, but you recognise the invitation.

You think you can smell food as you press Pike’s door chime, and the scent only gets more appetising as you walk in. The lights are low, apart from the fire burning brightly, and Pike pauses, apron on over his gold uniform, to smile at you as you walk over to the kitchen area.

“You came.”

“Of course.”

He picks a small bottle up, and pours from it into a salad bowl in front of him. “I hope you’re hungry… I may have gone a little overboard on the mac and cheese. I thought we could use a little comfort food after that planet.”

“It smells amazing. Anything I can do to help?”

“It’s almost ready. You could pour the wine?” He indicates to the bottle and two glasses on one end of his L shape table. You uncork the chilled bottle and take care of the drinks while he brings plates, salad, and the macaroni cheese, piping hot and smelling delicious.

Sitting next to Chris, rather than opposite like you might at a restaurant or on the other side of the L as you have when you’ve been to crew meals here, feels so intimate. As he reaches over to get some salad, or you go to pick up your glass to sip some chardonnay, you can’t help but touch. You try not to let being this close to him distract you… as intimate as this is, as hopeful as you are, nothing is settled.

You take a bite of your pasta and sigh. “It’s perfect, Chris. Creamy, the cheese— everything. Perfect comfort food. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You see him relax a little as you load up another forkful; he cares what you think.

You eat for a while in companionable quiet, then he takes a breath.

“I’m planning on demoting Spock. He has the worst timing.” He quirks one of those half smiles at you, the kind that make you melt a little, but then his expression goes serious.

“My position on this ship… I have to be careful of it. Your training – everyone’s training – tells you to do as I say. So, if I’m… interested… in someone, usually I try to set that aside.” He puts his fork down and shakes his head a little. “Clearly I didn’t do well on that score with you. But… I would have to be sure, before I truly pursue anything, that a person isn’t saying yes because of my rank.”

“I told myself that flirting was just a joke between us. That you don’t get involved with your crew. I want it to be real, but when people assumed that it was… It spooked me for a moment there.” You turn to face him more fully, to look into his eyes.

“I understand what it means for you to be Captain Pike. I understand that the Enterprise comes before me. But I felt that—that pull toward you, long before whatever this was started. It’s not your rank, your position of authority, Chris, it’s you.”

Chris stands from his chair, reaching a hand out to you. You stand and take it, his fingers warm in yours, and let him draw you to him, feeling the press of his body all along yours. You stare into his eyes, and see a wonder there that you’re sure he sees in your eyes too – the knowledge that you can finally have this. But then your eyes drift shut as he kisses you, gently, unhurried, savouring the moment.

You part for just a second, and then it gets passionate as you kiss him back, one hand on his chest, while his other hand finds its way to your lower back, holding you tighter. Your lips part, his tongue finds yours and you taste him, and you can’t get enough.

“So I know your shots are up to date,” Chris says, voice gravelly, when you pause for breath. “Would you like to take this to the bedroom?”

“Yes please.” You don’t care if you sound needy; you just want him. He takes your hand again and leads the way.

You are not quite sure what happened to your dress. You remember Chris helping you take it off last night, but quite how it got this crumpled is a bit of a mystery. You lift it up from the floor, and try to shake it out, not very successfully.

“Breakfast is served,” Chris says, looking fresh and neat in his uniform, not a hair out of place. No evidence to be seen of your activities last night, or how little sleep he may have had. “Oh, did you want a new uniform? I can synthesise one.”

“No need. I’ll have time to change in my quarters before shift.” You pull it on and try to smooth your skirt. “Breakfast?”

“Waffles. And real maple syrup. I know this little farm—”

It isn’t far from Pike’s quarters to the turbolift, and the officers in the corridor nod and smile to you as usual. Until you meet Lieutenant Ortegas.

She looks you up and down, taking in your creased dress with a raised brow and a sly smile. “I saw the duty rosters; I know you’re on alpha today. So… you get lucky last night?”

You try to hide your smile, but you feel too good – you don’t really want to.

“Yes, Erica, I did.”

Everyone will know, but you don’t mind. You and Chris are at the start of something special.

#Christopher Pike x Reader #Christopher Pike x You #Captain Pike #Christopher Pike Imagine #Star Trek Strange New Worlds #fanfic #ask #elen answers #request #noctiscorvus #writings of the girl from outer space #Common Knowledge

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