#last night i realized i had just watched golden eye when i took the test

[crab-instruments]

Lost and Found Extra 3: Sevika’s POV

Warnings: violence

a/n: Let Sevika say fuck. Also, thank you @amitafix for requesting, this was fun.

Sevika wasn’t mentally prepared to deal with how bitchy Silco was going to be today. The night before was rough and her boss was always in some kind of mood. Luckily, Jinx was old enough that Sevika didn’t have to babysit her anymore, but that didn’t stop her from being a pain in the golden armed brute’s ass.

One day, Sevika dreams of taking a nice vacation. Maybe having some goons take care of her for once. Ehh… she’d probably just gamble some more and drink her weight and then some.

Her thoughts evaporated when she walked into Silco’s office to see a mess. Jinx wasn’t in sight and everything wasn’t powder blue and bubblegum pink, so Sevika was more confused. Her eyes finally found you, small and unthreatening. Your hands had two pieces of metal in them and your eyes held dread as they locked with Sevika’s. She knew she was imposing and she loved it.

“Ah, Sevika. I would like to test something.”

Sevika looked skeptical but was pleased her boss wasn’t nagging her this early in the morning. “Sure, Silco. What is it?”

“Your arm, it has a locking mechanism on it that only a few can take apart, correct?”

“Yeah, why?”

Silco walked gestured for the two of you to come towards the desk. “Unlock Sevika’s arm.”

“What? What is going on?” Silco was crazy, that much Sevika knew when she swore her loyalty to the man years back. But this… this was borderline certifiable.

“After finding someone on my couch this morning, I’m now investigating their ability to pick any lock.”

“It’s not that impressive, it’s just simpl—”

“So if you please, Sevika, let them unlock your arm.”

Sevika looked between the two of you before realizing she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. She begrudgingly placed her arm on the table. “Okay, sure. Have the random person take my arm apart.”

When you got over your fear of being within punching distance, you deftly found the locking mechanisms and unlatched the arm. Silco didn’t let it stop there, no, had you take it completely apart and put it together again.

Sevika had to admit, you were good. You were quicker than she ever was, as if you had done it a million times. Like it was your arm.

Putting the arm back on was a bit harder than taking it off, but Sevika could only look dumbfounded. Silco just had a smirk on his face, extremely smug about his new toy.

Whatever, she thought, so long as he isn’t angry at me.

It was during this awkward moment that Jinx walked in. Silco asked her to bring anything she would consider a lock or a puzzle.

Sevika watched as you continually solved each puzzle, each more difficult than the last. She wasn’t sure how much more your heart could take, thinking you might keel over any minute.

“Now try this one! Has to be the hardest one yet. Also it’s timed.”

“Timed?!” you yelped.

“Yep! Hope you deactivate fast enough!”

The metal contraption had wild doodles on it in various colors. It ticked, hissed, and overall was intimidating. Quickly and with shaky hands, you took it a part and cut the correct wire.

Only for it to still explode into smoke and glitter.

“YOU DID IT! I’m so impressed!” Sevika didn’t move as she watched the smoke encapsulate you, unfazed by the shenanigans.

“Jinx, if they solved it, why did it explode?”

“Oh, I created it that way. Thought it would be more fun. WAIT I have another one I should—” The blue braids disappeared somewhere in the ceiling.

----

“Well, I’m convinced,” Jinx relented.

Sevika watched as you could barely keep yourself together, scared shitless. How you didn’t switch this situation to your advantage at this point, Sevika didn’t understand. Was it all an act?

“This is really just… parlor tricks, Sir. Ma’am. Miss? A-Anyone can solve these, really. Nothing special on my part.”

Sevika couldn’t believe it. Nothing about your disposition said that you held an ounce of malice. How did you survive this long in Zaun? Who the fuck were you? “And you can solve them while drunk?” She asked after a beat, recalling the story you told of how this all came to be.

“Arguably better, while drunk. I think, at least. I don’t remember. I can somehow get passed security drunk but not sober. Haven’t cracked that puzzle out yet.” You chuckled lightly before clearing your throat, Sevika almost took pity on you.

Almost.

Another silence fell between the four of you. Sevika went back into ‘bodyguard’ mode, ready to zone out until Silco needed her attention.

“As fun as this has been, um… I have to—I have to go to work soon. I don’t think my boss will allow the ‘I was discussing locking mechanisms with Silco’ excuse, especially since I’ve used simi—I MEAN. I don’t really know the protocol here, I didn’t mean to break in—do I need to pay for the lock? I don’t think I broke it but—”

“What is your job?” Silco folded his hands together as he sat at his desk. He’s not serious, is he? This weakling?

“I wa-wash dishes, so it would take me a while to pay you back. My boss treats me like an idiot and I’m indebted to him and he hates me so I don’t know if I could get an advan—”

“I don’t want your meager wages. I want you to work for me.”

“You want me… to work for you? You need a dishwasher, Sir? Mister Silco… Sir?” A collective groan filled the room. Sevika could only roll her eyes. “I don’t think my boss will give me a great recommendation for reasons already listed but I could—I’ll ask. But like I said, I’m more of an… indentured servant than an employee so I—”

“Come back here tomorrow morning. We will discuss the terms of your employment then.”

You stood up, a little too fast so you wobbled a bit, before giving an uncomfortable bow. Sevika held back a laugh, banking it for later. She kept the best straight face this side of the river. “Okay Silco. Sir. Mister Silco Sir—”

“Go.”

Sevika watched with her eyes as you struggled to leave with any dignity. Somehow, not the most embarrassing exit from this office she’s seen, but certainly a top ten.

Once the door was firmly shut, Sevika made eye contact with Silco. He merely responded by raising an eyebrow and then going back to work.

“Really? You want that mess to work for you?” She couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“Do I want someone with a rare talent on my payroll? Yes, I do. Now, I believe we have business to attend to. Jinx, it might be best—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m outta here. But first,” Jinx stood in front of Silco’s desk and gave a bow so low, her head touched the floor. She didn’t see Silco roll her eyes at her dramatics before bounding for the door.

*~*~*~*

“My boss said… no.”

Sevika almost choked, the balls you had to stand in front of the King of Zaun and tell him no. Silco had certainly killed for less, Sevika had been the one to do the killing.

Maybe she could actually have some fun today. You scared easily, so getting reactions out of you wouldn’t take much effort. If Silco didn’t have such a fascination with you—

“What do you mean?”

“Well, specifically, he laughed for three minutes, and I think said something about not believing Silco would speak to me, let alone request a pathetic worm such as myself to work for him, but I’m paraphrasing.” You fiddled with your hands and shifted your weight back and forth.

 “I… appreciate your loyalty to the man, but I wasn’t asking. Sevika, if you would please bring the man to us, we can straighten this out.”

Sevika leered, finally getting the entertainment she’s been denied thus far. Wasn’t who she had in mind, but she wasn’t choosy. The second-in-command was mid stride, thinking of what she might do to the guy, when your voice stopped her in her tracks.

“WAIT.” Sevika’s eyes went wide for a millisecond before schooling her expression. “I mean, if I could—I just—sir—ma’am—hold on a—”

“Out with it.” Silco said with an annoyed tone.

“Well, you see… My boss… I work for him, and he gives me a place to sleep. I’m afraid… I’m afraid that if I were to stop working for him—”

At this point, Sevika was on standby and awaited orders. She zoned out, shifting every now and again to keep the blood flowing.

Silco’s voice brought her back online. “Sevika, remove the owner in however you see fit, put someone else in charge, find the lockpickers… closet… and bring anything you find here.” She gave a smirk before leaving.

Sevika made her way through The Lanes, knowing exactly where she was going. A while after you had left the day before, Sevika went out to find out more about you. It wasn’t hard to find where you worked, she knew most of the joints, just had to ask about the staff. Taking into account how you talked about your boss, it could only be a handful of places.

It really only took one try. The dude was a dick and Sevika was going to enjoy beating his face in.

The place was empty, the place busier during the night. She made her way to the counter where an older man with a very punchable face was counting money.

“You the boss man around here?” Sevika asked as she sat down on a stool.

“Yeah, who’s asking?” He didn’t bother to look at her. If he had, he may have known to show some respect.

“Silco is.” That got his attention.

“Whoa-ho, and what can I do for Mr. Silco himself?”

She smirked, leaning in. “You can fuck off.”

“Excuse me—”

Sevika reached across the bar, grabbing the man by the collar, and throwing him into some tables in the corner of the room.

“Oh yeah. You’re down a dishwasher. Where do they keep their stuff?”

“Fuck you.”

“That is… the wrong answer, I’m afraid.” She cracked her knuckles and got to work.

It didn’t take much for the man to stop breathing. A shame, really. Sometimes Sevika liked the fighters, draining the hope from their eyes as they thought they had a chance.

Sevika sighed and walked toward the kitchen. Two workers were cowering towards the back in an attempt to hide.

“Congrats, one of you just got promoted. Don’t care who. You’re also down a dishwasher, afraid it’s a done deal but you can certainly try negotiating with my fist. Where is their stuff?”

They looked at each other and whispered, arguing who was going to get up from their safe zone.

“Fuck me, just point to it.”

When Sevika found the closet, she shoved what little you had in a bag she found and headed back to The Last Drop.

#lost and found #lost and found extra #sevika pov #crab fics #sevika my beloved

[threadedwheels]

Rove had been scrolling through Artsy while he waited for some code to script when he saw them.  His eyes widened slightly in amazement as he looked over the product.

Beautiful ... His inner goblin wanted them for himself but he stopped as he scrolled over them again. Chewing his bottom lip in thought before he clicked the buy button. It would be a while before they arrived but luckily he had given himself plenty of time.

Over the coming weeks he had made a few trips home. Comenderring the basement workshop as he sorted out the last bits. It took some time but when the item arrived everything was done just a few days before.

So today was the day. Ember's birthday. Rove felt his stomache knot as he realised he'd have to play the sap to gift this....what if Ember laughed or was disgusted...had the others kindness been a ruse all along to mock him. His breathing went rapid as he panicked slightly at the idea of how terrible it could all go. 

In the end he couldn't brave gifting it to Ember directly instead managing to against all odds slip it into the others book bag unnoticed as they passed in the hallway. He quickly escaped to his dorm before he could be caught. When Ember finally found the small wrapped gift he would find inside a dark purple dice bag with silver rope ties and his name embroidered onto it in shimmering silver thread with several stars and moons around it. Inside would sit a set of purple and blue shimmering resin dice with golden numbers and beautiful stars and moons clearly an astrology theme. A little card reading ‘Happy Birthday Ember from Rove, Dollface, Lock, Shock and Barrel.’

From his dorm Rove hoped the other would like the gift.

Ember was looking through his bag for a snack he had packed for himself before his hand wrapped around the dice bag. He pulled it out, wondering when he put his dice into his bag, before realizing that it was a new set.

As he opened it, gently dumping the dice into his hands, the card fell out and he quickly picked it back up. He read the names on it, smiling to himself, and admired the dice closer.

It reminded him of the stars he spent many nights laying outside and watching. He moved them around as they sparkled, doing a test roll of them. They rolled well- not perfectly, but no proper dice set should. He gently placed the dice back in the bag with the note, and the dice bag back into his book bag.

Thank you for the dice, Rove, he texted his friend, I love them.

#<< tapestry ; birthday >> #<< tapestry ; answers >> #rove

[tedesquire]

i love how u write the characters! im not sure u would be into doing something like this but, if u would, could u do a ray/reader/egon? if ur not interested in doing that, u can just ignore this ask. thx!

Magenta

A/N: Kind of short, maybe OOC! Egon, but I really enjoyed the challenge of writing this one. I did some research on poly!relationships and tried my best but I’m open to feedback! A few Golden Girls references too for your own enjoyment. Hope you like it nonnie!

Based off the prompt: OT3s where they’ve all been friends for a long time, but when Muse A and Muse B start dating they both realize that things aren’t the same without Muse C and they both want to date Muse C too. from @rpmememaker OT3 list.

-

“Do you mind bugging your boys to bring up their paperwork from last week’s bust?” Janine ran her fingers through her hair, one more day of overtime away from ripping the copper strands from her head.

“They’re not ‘my boys’.” You sighed playfully, snickering as Janine rolled her eyes. She had a point: you, Ray, and Egon were like the three musketeers, practically inseparable. You spent every evening together, whether it was at your apartment, the firehouse lab, or Ray’s bookstore. “But I’ll go pester them for you.” She mumbled a ‘thanks’ as you headed down, not feeling the need to announce your presence as the metal stairs groaned.

“Hello, hello!” You bounced downwards, slowing as you took in the scenery.

Ray’s hair was mussed, more so than usual, and Egon’s glasses had fogged up. They were standing quite close towards each other, Egon sweating slightly and the tips of Ray's ears flushed pink.

“You guys looked like you were caught making out.” You snorted, quieting once you saw their cheeks pink in embarrassment. The silence in the lab had never been louder.

“Oh my god… were you really?” You asked incredulously, eyes flickering between the two as they tried to compose themselves. “When did.. Uh, when did,” you gestured between the pair. “...This happen?”

“A few weeks ago when Ray and I were testing out the updates on the reverse tracker beams we just.. Well, one thing led to another and we kissed.”

“When did you guys have time to go out, we’ve hung out just about every night since then?” Your fingers traced the rim of an empty coffee cup, watching their brows furrow.

“What do you mean, we’ve gone out quite a few times! You were there.” Ray defended, much to your horror.

“Those were all dates?!”

“Well… yes.” Egon nodded.

“But we enjoy your company!” Ray tried to convince you. “We were happy to have you come along.” You rubbed the back of your neck, heat radiating from your cheeks.

“Man, guess I really am thick, huh? You guys should have told me sooner or... something. I feel like a moron.”

“There’s no such reason to feel like one.” Egon attempted to quell your negative thoughts, but it was too late, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“You know,” your throat had never been more dry. “You guys should go out tonight, on a date. This time without me. Yeah?” The pair looked at each other hesitantly.

“I don’t see why not.” Egon nodded.

“Are you sure?” Ray asked, eyebrows furrowing. He could tell something was off.

“Yes! Absolutely! Go to dinner, have a glass of wine, tell someone ‘don’t wait up,’ all that jazz!” You rambled nervously, fiddling with a stack of papers they had been working on. “I should probably file these before Janine tears me a new one, you know how tough she is, always cracking the whip…” You trailed off, unsure of how to make a smooth transition out of this situation. You had never felt so awkward around them before.

“Okay… have fun you two, not too much fun, unless… unless you want. Or not. I don’t know what I’m saying. Okay, bye!” You clambered up the stairs, the door slamming behind you.

The only way you could describe how you were feeling was magenta. All kinds of feelings were tumbling over themselves, too many to focus on just one and combining to be one whole mess. You were green with envy, jealous at how Ray and Egon were able to find love and you weren’t. You were yellow with fear, worried about how you were going to occupy yourself now that your two best friends were dating each other. Most importantly, you were blue.

Not that anyone would know, but you just so happened to be in love with those two science geeks. Ray was so sweet and compassionate, always down for cuddling and watching romantic movies. He almost always knew exactly what you were feeling and how to fix your bad moods.

Egon, on the other hand, was patient and humorous. He always made you laugh, to the point you could just crack up looking at his half-cocked smile. Egon was also willing to listen to all your problems and give solutions when asked. He seemed to remember almost everything about you, surprising you with little gifts on bad days.

You couldn’t just pick one of them, you knew you wouldn’t be fair to confess to one of them and always pine for the other, so you were content to stay friends. You had been totally cool with living in that constant pain.

Until now.

-

The fancy restaurant was different from what they were used to, but Egon and Ray figured you had a point, they needed to go out, just the two of them.

It was weird, they both thought, not to have you sitting there with them, stealing a half of each of their entrees, making fun of other couples across the room, or asking them for their coats, since you always seemed to get cold.

Topics of discussion flickered between previous busts, the current sad state of Ecto-1, and Occult book sales, causing Egon chuckled to himself, taking a sip of his drink.

“What's up, Spengie?”

“If y/n was here, she would chastise us for talking about work.” Ray smiled warmly.

“Not really romantic, huh? I bet she’d be telling us we need to flirt a bit more.”

“She knows us well enough to know our capacities to flirt, which is to say we have none.” They both laughed softly before falling into an awkward silence.

“Did she seem a bit.. off this morning?” Ray sighed, wondering if he was in his own head too much.

“Yes, she appeared more flustered than usual, though I’m positive it was mostly due to shock.”

“I guess we didn’t really make it clear that we were dating…” Ray admitted.

“It was clear to us. We do all the things average couples do, watch movies, eat dinner, an occasional drink or two, we just happen to do those activities with y/n.”

“Remember last week when she tried to have us watch Nightmare on Elm Street? Golly, I bet I still have indents of her fingernails on my arms, she was so terrified!” Egon let out a chuckle through his nose.

“Oh please, Ray, anyone with half a brain can observe how much you enjoy when she’s draped all over you.”

“She’s just so warm, and soft.” Ray grew a dopey grin. “And it’s our tradition at this point, like your nightly debriefings.” Now it was Egon’s turn to smile. Though he was a man of science, he enjoyed gossip quite a bit, a guilty pleasure, if you will. He wasn’t the best at socialization which is why he enjoyed you explaining it. You always seemed to know the latest between previous clients or celebrities, waiting until you saw him to share.

“I wonder what she’s doing right now.” Ray wondered.

“It’s 8pm on a Saturday, she’s most likely viewing Golden Girls at her apartment.”

“I can’t believe she likes that show.”

“She says it makes her feel normal in a paranormal world.” Egon recalled, smirking at Ray’s little giggles. Only you could make him laugh like that, it was something Egon loved about you.

There was so much to love. Both Egon and Ray admired your loyalty to the Ghostbusters and your confidence. You stood up for them when everyone was against them, and spoke whatever was on your mind. You were funny, gorgeous, generous, kind, the list was unending.

“I’ll admit, it feels queer not to have her here.” Ray looked around, as if you were going to appear out of thin air. “It’s just not the same.” His face paled as he realized what he said, opening to try to explain.

“I understand.” Egon placed a reassuring hand over his. “I enjoy being your boyfriend, and you know I care for you.”

“I do!”

“It just feels like….” Egon struggled to come up with the right phrase.

“Something’s missing?” Ray finished, hastily fumbling for his wallet and throwing a few large bills on the table. “Let’s go get our girl.”

-

You didn’t have it in your heart to snicker at Dorothy’s dramatic insults, Blanche’s sexual innedous, Rose’s long-winded stories, or Sophia’s quick quips. You couldn’t shake that ugly magenta feeling off of you.

Of course you were happy that Ray and Egon found love, it was a hard thing to find; but the bitter feeling, knowing that this wasn’t going to be the last night that you were by yourself while they were out on dates, knowing you were always going to be held at a distance from the two, it was a crushing weight to bear.

You were sure that you would be able to get past this feeling eventually, with a lot of help from 4 old women and two men named Ben and Jerry. It just hadn’t started to help...yet.

You were startled by a knock on your door, setting the melting pint of ice cream down and wrapping your robe tight around yourself. You weren’t expecting anyone and had nowhere to be, getting in your pj’s as soon as you got off work and staying firm on your couch.

You opened your door and relaxed at the sight of Ray and Egon, a brow raising in confusion. “What are you guys doing here? And panting nonetheless- what happened to the elevator?”

“We thought- it would be more romantic if we climbed the stairs.” Ray panted. “Like in… Oh, Egon, what was the name of that movie?”

“I have no idea. I’m exhausted beyond the point of rational thinking. I didn’t believe that 15 floors would be quite this exhausting.” Egon hastily rubbed his glasses against the fabric of his button up.

“Romantic?” You sputtered, letting them come inside. “You both were supposed to be on a date! Did you get possessed by a ghost or something?”

“Better!” Ray cried, placing his hands on your shoulders. “We realized we’re in love with you!” Your heart stuttered in your chest, peering over his shoulder to meet Egon, who nodded just as enthusiastically.

“I… I don’t know what to say…” You honestly didn’t. You kept thinking that they had to be joking. How would this even work between the three of you, or did you have to choose? How did they even come up with the realization? “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Y/n,” Egon tried to explain, his heavy hand cupping your cheek. “We would like for you to be in a polyamorus relationship with us. We know it isn’t conventional but when have we ever been like anyone else? We love you. We love the way you make us feel, like you complete us. Please, consider it.”

Your heart thumped violently, practically melting in their embrace. How long had you waited for something like this?

“Come ‘ere.” You whispered, leaning close to Ray to kiss him, your thumbs cradling his chubby cheeks. He kissed just as you imagined he would, lovingly and gently, like he was memorizing the way you felt against him.

When you both separated you noticed a soft smile on Egon’s face, his eyes filled with affection.

“I didn’t forget about you.” You cooed, causing him to look down at the floor, his cheeks flushing. “Don’t get all shy on me now!” You teased, gasping as his arm snaked around your lower back, pulling you in to plant one on you.

While Ray was tender and slow, Egon was fast and rough, making your head spin. Each searing kiss made you moan, too caught up to even notice that Ray had made his way over to the couch until his laughter caught your attention.

“He’s going to need someone to hold onto.” Egon suggested, letting you tug him over to the couch.

As you laid between your two boys, you slipped your fingers between theirs, letting a wave of happiness wash over you.

You were no longer, green, yellow, blue, magenta or any other color. You were completely happy and whole.

#ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters imagines #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters #egon #egon spengler imagines #egon spengler #egon spengler imagine #egon spengler x reader #ray stantz imagines #ray stantz #ray stantz x reader #mod olivia #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters fanfics #ghostbusters fanfictions #egon spengler fanfiction #egon spengler fanfics #egon spengler fanfictions #egon spengler fanfic #egon spengler x reader x ray stantz #ray stantz x reader x egon spengler #reader insert #egon x ray #egon spengler x ray stantz #ray stantz imagine #ray stantz fanfics #ray stantz fanfiction #ray stantz fanfic

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 5

Summary: A very special dinner brings a very special moment for the Darkling and his wife.

Warnings: angst, sexual innuendoes, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four  

=================================

She felt caught in the riptide, finding it hard to stay upright. As the daughter of a general, Y/N had seen so many evils, so much hurt, yet she never buckled under pressure.

Staring at the empty spot beside her, she laid there while battling shadows in her head. So filled with rage, she wondered who she’s becoming as a part of her longed to feel his touch. Perhaps he was right, she’s a foolish girl who is trying to win a game where the rules are nonexistent.

Having stayed awake most of the previous night, she didn’t expect trouble sleeping. With a heavy sigh, she abandoned the bed they shared – it felt too intimate to remain there now. They’ve only ever kissed and it was never planned nor did it happen in the very bed she felt is so incredibly vast, so lonely and cold when he didn’t stay there with her.

Pacing the room as she saw his shadow do the night before, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he had trouble sleeping alone too. It was less than a full week since they married and she already cursed the smallest part of her that seemed to care for him.

Men are easy to love. A woman’s heart was made to care and love those near her. Mistaking love and trust is what a woman should never do. Love and trust are separate entities, one is given, the other must be earned.

Remembering her mother’s words eased her self-loathing. If she dared to love the Darkling, it wasn’t entirely under her control. Trusting him was different. She wasn’t as naïve as to allow the echoes of her heart dictate what her mind long acknowledged – he isn’t trustworthy.

And as the stars rise in the sky, she paced the room tirelessly. Arguing with herself, she paid no mind to the night sky she loved so much. If she had, Y/N might have realized a man with dark skies for eyes had trouble looking away from her shadow.

Exhausted, Y/N rose with the dawn. She had barely scraped up a few hours of decent sleep, tormented by his words even in dreams.

“Enter”, she yawned as Genya readily walked inside. The maids rushed to the bed, willing to change the bed sheets they couldn’t last time as Y/N had sent them away.

“Stop!” She exclaims as they reach Kirigan’s side of the bed, a slightly panicked look on her face relaying uncontrollable desires she had no chance of understanding.

Frowning, Genya licked her lips. While Y/N wasn’t sure what caused her outburst, she believed to know the root. “Leave us. You will be asked to change the sheets when Y/N desires it.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N turned away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”, Genya mussed. “We have a dinner to prepare you for.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/N managed a smile, briefly looking to Genya. “I’ll be alone which gives me a perfect chance to find new allies.”

Blinking fast, Genya’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure who could ally with us in the Palace. Everyone’s charmed by our General. If you’d just work with him, they would all be with you too.”

“He works for the emperor.” Y/N reminded her.

Running her hands through her hair, Y/N didn’t know if she could ever trust him enough to tell him the truth. Her plans, her fight, it’s her life’s work. She came into that palace with intention of burning it down. The emperor must die and anyone else who’d fuel the flames of war must perish along with him. The war had claimed her mother’s life, of thousands of humans and Grisha alike, Y/N aimed to end it. And to end it, she had to destroy those who started it, those who refused to implement equality between species, as Kirigan called them. Humans and Grisha must be seen equally worthy, they must ally or they will be exterminated like vermin by surrounding enemies.

She grieved for her mother every day, even now as a decade had passed. Grief is really just love one cannot give to the other. It’s all the unspent love, gathering in the corners of her eyes, the lump in her throat and inside the hollowed heart that’s trying to beat in her chest. If her sorrow was but snow that could melt with coming spring, she’d shake it off her shoulder and be done with it. It doesn’t just disappear or heal with time, she could not just let it go and forgive. Y/N survived the loss of her mother by making a vow, one she was closer to fulfilling.

“Should I prepare your usual kefta?” Genya asked, holding the blue one over her forearm.

Shaking her head, Y/N turned to her with a smile. If she wants to succeeded, she must use all weapons at hand. Being the General’s wife is one of the weapons at her disposal.

“I was thinking about a different color for tonight.”

“How different are we talking?”

Smirking, Y/N’s eyes flickered to Kirigan’s kefta. “Black.”

“No one wears black but Kirigan”, Genya reminds her.

“Until he married. I believe I’m allowed to wear his color.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Genya sighed heavily. “Alright. As long as you allow me to make a few modifications.”

Anticipating the dinner, Y/N felt like a goddess in the kefta Genya had crafted for her. It fit her perfectly, adjusted just above the waist as it properly accentuated her curves. The closed collar wrapped around her neck, fallen stars creating a golden woven blaze as a necklace, while moondust adorned the long, skin tight lacey sleeves. The bottom acted as a floor length dress with a long slit revealing skin up to middle of her thigh.

Entering the room with her head held high and Genya on her hand, Y/N felt even more confident about the eclipsed sun stitched across her heart. It was bound to attract attention if the rest of her makeshift kefta inspired dress didn’t.  

The moment she took a step inside, everybody’s head turned. The chatter died down, replaced by astonished gasps of pure awestruck admiration.

“I believe you’ve created a masterpiece”, Y/N whispers to Genya whose smile widens.

“You are what makes it so spectacular”, Genya winks.

“Don’t be modest. We both know it’s not in your nature.”

Giggling, Genya nods, “You’re right. I’m brilliant and this”, she steps aside to give her a once over again, “You are proof.”

Pursing her lips, Y/N felt her cheeks darken. Her plan was to draw attention so any potential ally she speaks to would be more inclined to accept her request, but she didn’t expect for everyone to stop and stare.

Tugging her by the arm, Genya pulled her closer. “You’ll never guess who is here”, she spoke in a hushed tone, looking to the left as the rest of the guests began speaking again and the music played softly in the background.

Following her line of view, Y/N’s heart came to a near stop as her eyes locked on his.

“Wasn’t he supposed to leave last night?” Genya whispers, but Y/N could hardly speak.

Breath caught in her throat, Y/N stared back at Kirigan who seemed to be just as breathless. She looked like a dream, a golden bird that carried all the happiness of the world on its wings.

“He didn’t”, Y/N looked away, knitting her eyebrows. “Why didn’t he”, she tried to finish her initial thought, but she couldn’t. If she spoke of the sudden ache that settled after the initial shock of his presence dispersed, she’d hate herself more. She’s weak if her feelings are hurt by a single night spent alone in a bed. She was certain now. She is foolish.

“You won’t be able to network tonight”, Genya’s frown made Y/N chuckle.

“You’ve been frowning so often since we met.”

Shrugging, Genya leaned in discreetly. “I can afford a few worry lines. I’ll just erase them later.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N smiled brightly. She would not allow Kirigan to dampen her mood. He can stay on his side of the room and she won’t spare him a single glance.

“I’ll test the waters”, Genya promised, “If I find anyone that we can work with, we can test their loyalty later.”

Glancing over Y/N’s shoulder, Genya’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

Frowning lightly, Y/N glanced at what has her so perplexed only to huff in frustration.

“Black suits you”, the Darkling compliments her. Holding out a hand for her to take, he glances at his open palm before raising his brow. He’s challenging her.

Looking around, she realizes everyone’s waiting for her reaction. As he told her once before, they may not be a love match, but their arrangement must seem successful to the unsuspecting eye.

“Dance with me and pretend they don’t exist”, his voice softened and she couldn’t believe this is the same man who so cruelly baited her, branding her as foolish earlier. How can he act as if nothing happened when she was still reeling from it? Not that he’d know, she always put care in every move she made around him.

She placed her hand on the palm of his, holding her breath as she chained her gaze to the abyss in his. There’s no going back, she thinks, nearly shuddering as he places his free hand on her hip.

“I thought you were gone by now”, she mussed. Choosing to take control of the conversation, she kept her neck straight as it secured a proper distance between their faces.

“We had a slight delay”, he said, “I’ll be gone tonight.”

Humming, she swallowed thickly. Avoiding looking at others, she remained in a staring match with her husband.

“How did you sleep?” The Darkling smirked, watching her eyes narrow at him.

“Quite well. Did you enjoy sharing your bed with someone else?” While her voice seemed cold and unattached, her words were anything but.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?” Pursing his lips, he nearly laughed as she stepped on his foot. “I’ll take that as yes.”

“I’m merely concerned how it would look if word of you sleeping elsewhere got out. I prefer my pride and honor untouched and if you choose to find a lover, I should assume you’ll be discreet.”

Licking his lips, the great general didn’t laugh at her or sneer. There was no angry squinting or vile words. For once, he had a serious expression on his face that had nothing to do with the army or their arguments.

“I’m not the kind who would seek a lover while married. Even if the marriage is a mere arrangement.”

Scoffing, she clenched her jaw as he pulled her waist closer to him. 

“How many lovers have you taken?”

He raised a brow, “That’s a horrible question.”

“Because you lost count?” She narrows her eyes, the lips he found himself so fascinated with formed a thin, red line.

He doesn’t respond, so she tried again, “Why have you not married before?”

Now he looked amused, “That’s even worse!”

Shrugging, she smirks, “Well, ask me a question then! If all mine are so awful, let me hear yours.”

“Do you think I’m a very good liar or a very unlovable being?” Slowly pulling her body flush against his, Darkling looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never loved anyone and I’ve manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me. So?” Inhaling sharply, he watched a disarray of emotions cross her face as he asked again, “Liar or unlovable?”

“A liar. Because you are lying, not just to me but yourself.” Her breathing is shallow, strained even. “You have a heart, General, but you’re cowering like a scared little boy instead of just facing the facts.”

“And what are those?” His voice is darker as are his intentions.

If they were alone, she was certain he’d be kissing her lips now. For some reason, it seemed he enjoyed their arguments. He liked it when she fought him almost like he didn’t know any other form of affection.

“That you care. You care and you hate yourself for it.” Stopping their dance, she managed a faint smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not spending my time waiting for you to accept it.”

Brushing his fingers across the left side of her face, he cocked his head ever so slightly, “Is it possible you’ve got this all wrong? From where I stand, you’re the one who cares – perhaps a bit too much? Let me remind you, this marriage is a sham. You are my wife, but I do not love you, I do not care for you and if you were killed right in this very spot, I would avenge you but solely for the arrangement to remain unsullied.”

Nodding, more to herself than him, she took a step back from him. For the first time ever, she drew back. “For once, we’re on the same page of the same book.”

The music stops. Looking to the man clinking his glass, Y/N’s lips part. She didn’t even realize it, but too often she entirely forgoes breathing in Kirigan’s presence.

Taking a deep breath, she nearly laughs. Kirigan…General…The Darkling. She even called him husband, yet she never even heard his first name. How odd is it to marry a man whose first name is a mystery to you, she thought.

“If you’ll excuse me”, she nods curtly without sparing him a glance. 

Her seat at the dinner table was beside Genya, while Kirigan was placed all the way on the other side of the room. She smirked, satisfied she’ll have some peace during her meal. She never quite liked the table formation in a wide U form before, but she blessed the ones who created it on this evening.

Studying him from afar, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. It wasn’t some cosmic connection that she hoped she’d share with her husband, rather wishful thinking. Longing for him is out of the question. He may be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it’s not at all something she’d thank the saints for. If he were less appealing, she’d at least be free of torment his looks bring. The devil is real and he’s not a goat like man as humans believed. There are no horns, no tails – he’s beautiful, a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.

“You’re staring at him again”, Genya speaks in a hushed tone, her smile audible.

“I’m not”, Y/N replies, “I simply looked over in a direction and he happened to be seated there.”

“Then why was that look on your face?” Genya raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Y/N asks, incredulous. “What look?”

“You have a certain way of looking at him”, she informs. Letting out an tired huff, Genya explains, “You look at him and it’s like you’re staring at the night sky littered with stars.”

“So?”

Genya looks down before whispering, “You love night skies littered with stars.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stared at her food for the rest of the evening. One bite after another and her plate was quickly emptied. Her stomach felt like it would burst, but she didn’t care. Most people claim they can’t eat under stress, but she was the opposite – her appetite only grew.

“He’s standing up”, Genya informed her and despite wishing she remained impassive, Y/N’s eyes shot up to where he was sitting.

With a lump at the back of her throat, she watched him as he headed to the door. A part of her hoped he’d be decent enough to bid his farewell, to acknowledge her at least. That part of her needed to be destroyed, she decided. It’s the part of her that would ruin her mission and for what? If she truly wanted to, she could have him on his back and under her. If she wanted him, he’d be hers – at least his body would. The principle she held onto was more important and so, she swallowed thickly and looked to her empty plate in order to stop her weakness from showing.

As she looked away, the Darkling looked back at her from across the room. He felt a strange tightness in his heart and once he saw she didn’t follow him with her gaze, his heart dropped. Furrowing his eyebrows, he kept his gaze on her for a while longer – her beauty was unmatched by anything he had ever seen. White looked good on her, every color did – but black fabric hugging her curves could bring a dead man back to life.

With a heavy heart and frown etched on his face, the Darkling turned his back and left the room, the Palace, the strangest, most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on.

He carried her in his thoughts ever since. It aggravates him how quickly she’s gotten under his skin. Most of the month before their marriage was finalized was spent in petty comments about their armies or their distaste for one another. She was insufferable, maddening and entirely different from what he expected.

And yet, even then, the Darkling hoped she’d lose her patience and either leave or tell him she loves him. If she left, he’d be free of her and the shackles of an undesirable marriage, but if she told him she loves him, perhaps he’d believe her. If he knew there was ever a possibility of her loving him, he’d dare assume he might be deserving of love – because she may have dubbed him a liar, but he believes himself to be unlovable too. He never saw the point in allowing himself to feel a thing for her when it would be futile, wasted emotions on a woman sworn to hate him.

Once he was done chasing a rumor of a stag up north, the Darkling had to accept it too was a futile. Going after a legendary animal wasted so much of his time that he couldn’t even believe how foolish he’s become too. The stag must not be real after all.

Approaching Little Palace, he felt almost eager to run up to their shared chambers and see her. Even if she’d likely have a few choice words for him, he hoped he could make her blood boil just to hear her speak. He’d never admit it, but he missed someone he could converse with without dying of boredom.

“General”, Genya rushed to Kirigan who nearly growled at the distraction. However, Genya seemed distraught, panicked enough to draw his attention.

“Yes?”

Swallowing thickly, she wiped a stray tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s Y/N.”

His heart stops at the sound of her shaky voice, his jaw clenching before speaking. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“She went for a ride this morning and she hasn’t been seen since.”

Darkling’s gaze hardens as he grips Genya’s arms and shakes her lightly. “What do you mean?!”

“We sent riders after lunch, because I was worried she missed two meals already”, gasping for air, Genya’s tears made tracks, “The snow covered her tracks.”

She left me, he thought. She deemed me unlovable, unworthy. She left.

“They managed to find her mare”, Genya continues through tears, “It was decapitated and left in the woods.”

“Woods?” He frowns, wondering why she’d stray from the meadow and then he realized. He’s the one she rode into the woods with. She must have thought the woods were safe. They were at the time, only because he was with her and he’d never let any harm come to her.

“There were signs of struggle, but the snow is making it hard for us to track them.”

Releasing a visibly shaken Genya, he grunts. Biting his lower lip, he paced before her as his hand ran through his hair. She never saw him so worried, so mad before. He looked like a man walking a fine line – a line between madness and sanity.

“Call everyone”, he orders, “We must find her.”

Exhaling in relief, Genya smiled as Ivan emerged, having heard everything.

“Why would we do that?”

A pause ensues as the Darkling takes a step toward Ivan. “I haven’t made a promise in so long”, he spoke but in truth, it’s been hundreds of years since he made anyone a promise. “I promised her I’d protect her.” His voice was ragged, but controlled. “So I’m making a new promise right here, if they harm a single hair on her head, I will end them all. I will do it with a smile on face and I will bathe in their blood!”

They took her from him and he had every intention of ripping the world apart with his bare hands and for once, the thought of how far he’d go for that insolent woman didn’t frighten him. He barely knows her, he certainly doesn’t love her, but Saints help those who touched his wife.

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007​ @rangotangomango​ @kaitlyn2907​ @thestoryofmylife9​ @shelivesindaydreamswme​ @hxrgreeves​ @safetyhtom​ @kaqua​ @savannah-elliott​ @all-art-is-quite-useless​  @azure23x​ @girlmadeofavocados​ @ashdab2611​ @acciorudolphx​ @ladyblablabla​ @wckedheart​​ @xceafh​ @sanna2020​ @tarkanelima-blog​ @takethee​ @mellifluous-cosmos​ @marvel-ousnesss​ @tea-effect​ @starlightofsolaria​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @blackbirddaredevil23​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @slytherinsbiggestproblem​ @within-thehollowcrown​ @notthatchhavi​ @musicconversedance​​ @astrosmayhem   

Part 6

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #shadow and bone

[chilumi-shipper]

Ready to Hold On

Xiao x Adeptus!Fem!Reader x Zhongli

Summary: Why not both? Love works in strange ways, and fate has given you a choice. Let it be known that your choice is not to choose, but to love them both. You had a realization when you hear from Xiao that Zhongli apparently had excused himself from your "hangout", you wishes that you could be with both Zhongli and Xiao at that moment.

(Alternative Ending to Ready to Let Go, I suggest you read it first. This version is where you start a polyamory relationship with both of them.)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"He said he needed to do some extra work because of all the mora he's been spending." Xiao explained as he watch you mold the cookie dough to little spheres before placing them neatly on the tray.

You two were so close to each other, exactly how you wanted it to be. Somehow, you felt as though, you feel something missing. Despite your close proximity with Xiao, him standing right next to you as you create your first every batch of cookies, encouraging you when you say they're probably not gonna be that good, you kind of miss a certain someone who would say very long, unnecessary details about the very origin of cookies, giving you some baking advice so you don't accidentally make a stomach destroyer cookie batch.

Perhaps it was the lingering feeling of golden orbs (aside from Xiao's) that would watch your every move with care, just to make sure nothing is a miss. Maybe it was the feeling of a strong chest behind you or a constant hand of reassurance resting upon your shoulder.

"Y/N..." The soft voice of Xiao calls for you, you looked at him questioningly, stopping what you were doing. "I--" His face seem to turn bashful as he looks down, ears starting to turn pink.

You smiled a bit, feeling giddy as the Yaksha looks for the right words to say. Your eyes gleam as you stare at him expectantly, this was the time you were waiting for!

"You like me?!" In your excitement, you accidentally blurted out your thoughts before he could even finish his sentence.

...

He looked at you, a bit surprised, not expecting that you would blurt something like that out. And yet, you looked equally surprised yourself, covering your mouth with your wrist, since your hands had been handling the cookie dough.

'Ahhhh!!!' You cursed yourself with every bad word you know, screaming internally as you turn your back onto him. 'You're so fricking stupid, Y/N! Why the heck would you say that?! You piece of-'

Even if he did like you back, that's still so awkward!

"I'm sorry..." You whispered, feeling your legs weaken with embarrassment. You heard him sigh from behind you before chuckling.

You felt his hands gently grasping your shoulders, slowly turning you around to face him.

"Was I as obvious as you?" The cat-eyed boy spared a teasing remark, just for you. You can't help but feel shocked, Zhongli said you were obvious too! But Xiao, who doesn't interact with humans to even know how others react when having a crush, is saying that your feelings were pretty obvious? You gotta be real transparent for that one.

You felt your face heat up at what he said, but still, the comment made you laugh. "You're unpredictable, but I like that about you." You finally looked at his golden eyes, and they were filled with happiness, because of you. He is happy because of you.

You scoot yourself closer, now just inches apart from a sweet first kiss. "I like you, Y/N." He finally said it, the words you would imagine him say whenever you're lost in your wondering thoughts, but now, it's actually real. "Is this okay?" You nodded slowly, still starstruck as he gently holds your chin with his gloved fingers.

Xiao tried to initiate slowly, but you smashed your lips against his immediately, stumbling both you back a little, but his other hand slid around your waist, whilst you wrapped your arms around his neck. You felt his smile as you kissed him, which he returned with equal passion.

You slowly pulled way from him, opening your eyes before smiling, "That means, I like you too."

"You're one piece of work." Xiao stated as you retract your arms, ready to go back to baking. "It makes me understand why I'm not the only one who likes you." You freezed at his words, looking back at him like he's grown another head.

"W-what?"

"Morax, he's quite fond of you too, butterfly."

Butterfly, you almost melt at that. Wait, that's not the point, the Zhongli "Morax"? Fond of you too?

Your now lover (hehe, lover) chuckles, although it does not contain any malice or jealousy, unlike how you'd imagine a person to react when they find out another person likes their lover.

"You mean like, friends fondness, right?"

"No." The Yaksha shakes his head.

"How would you know that...?" You quietly asked, still having doubts about what you said. Xiao slides your loose hair behind your ear before cupping your face.

"He acts the same way I do around you." But in your eyes, that still wasn't proof that Zhongli likes likes you. Besides, aren't you only supposed to have one love interest?

"But maybe that's just how he normally is. Why are you so sure?" You questioned him even more.

"Do you feel like you really want him to be here with us right now?" Xiao asked you instead, it's like he was reading your mind or something, you did kind of wish he was here.

You just nodded, not trusting your voice anymore. You looked down to your hands, wiping them clean with a towel.

"You miss him when he's not around, trust him the most, you feel comfortable around him..." You nodded at his words again, not sure where he's getting at. "Then you like him too." You're eyes widen at Xiao's words, your mouth dropping in shock.

"...Xiao, I like you." You explained to him, yet the lingering feeling that maybe he was right started embedding itself within you. He just sighs, before gently holding your hands.

"You can--" He can't help but look down and shake his head. "I can't believe I'm actually the one doing all the talking." You giggled at his little comment, although the feeling of confliction didn't seize.

"Zhongli confessed to me last night, all about how he felt about you. Why he's not actually here today." Xiao finally said, gently caressing your hand with his thumb. "But I forced him to come today." You were a little surprised, Xiao, who would stop at nothing to serve the Geo Archon, actually went against the Archon's wishes. However, you're even more surprised that the mentioned man walked into the Wangshu Inn kitchen, and you already know that he's heard everything.

"Mr. Zhongli!" You try to act normal, but being bombarded with your own conflicting feelings were talking a toll on you. "Uhm..."

Xiao let go of your hands as the older man stood in front of both of you.

"Do you like me, Y/N?" Zhongli asks, despite his sincere smile, you felt the nervousness that courses within him, the same nervousness flowing within you.

You think about this really hard. You've had feelings for Xiao for a very long time, but through all that time, maybe there was another love that sprout without your notice, because you always believed that you could only love one. Both of them have been there your entire immortal life, all of you working side by side to make sure that each of you and Liyue is safe from harm. In all your years of pining, you realized, you crave for both of them when they're not with you, the moment doesn't seem as special without both of them, they're the most important people in your life.

You could never choose one over the other.

Looking up at another pair of golden orbs, you slowly nodded, grabbing one hand of each of your most beloved people in the entire universe.

"I think... I know that I love both of you so much." You smiled as you took both their hands close to your chest.

Zhongli then proceeded to kiss you too, a quick sweet kiss on the lips.

You jumped, "Oh, I forgot about my cookies." Letting go of both their hands, you go back to tending to your treats. "I hope my two favorite people can help taste test after I'm done."

"Of course."

"I'll try it."

You let out a cheerful chuckle, this was probably the most confusing but happiest day of your eternal life.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Requested by: @amethystrain77

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact imagines #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #xiao #xiao fluff #zhongli fluff

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed iii, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x est. relationship yoongi

summary: Your relationship with Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, is unlike anything else in the entire world. At this point, it’s almost like telepathy with how close you are. Still, he surprised you. Such as asking Jeon Jungkook to fuck you. Once. Twice. And this time Jungkook is waiting for you, with Yoongi. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (and they basically have heart eyes whenever they see each other lol); tiny bit of angst; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, m-masturbation, partial handjob, doggy, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS; takes place after 2021 GDA, yup blond JK is best boy and kind boy

mentions of the pandemic because this is based on real time

–

You closed the door behind you and breathed out slowly. It was late, quite dark outside. Most people would be asleep by now. You unhooked your black face mask from your ears and pushed the hood of your black parka down, releasing your hair. 

Ah, there was always stress and adrenaline to get here.

You had stated working again, so you weren't here every day anymore. You had to go back after all, if you wanted to keep your job. You worked from home most days and, with the current state of the world, now it was all the time. Still, you couldn’t take any chances. You made sure to get tested and have your results before coming here. Negative, so you were good. 

You turned on the light. 

A blond bullet collided into you.

"Oof!"

You had to plant your feet and brace for impact, and you still almost toppled over. You would have if it wasn't for the strong arms that encircled you and lifted you up, making you dizzy as you were spun around. 

"Ack, J-Jungkook..."

You could feel your eyes rolling in their sockets. You were put firmly on the ground and still being squeezed to death. 

"I'm so happy to see you!" Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, exclaimed, albeit in a hushed tone, but no less excited. "I was surprised when you said you could come today!"

You managed to blink your eyeballs back in place to see Jungkook's animated face above you, blond hair fluffy and bouncy from spinning you around. He wasn't wearing any makeup and he smelled freshly washed, as if he had taken a late shower. His brown eyes were sparkling as he grinned at you, showing off his bright white teeth. You hadn't seen his ash blond hair in real life yet, only on television. 

You smiled at him. "Yeah? Did you miss me?"

Jungkook nodded quickly. "I wanted to show you my hair." He bent down and placed it against your nose. You could smell the nice scent of the herbal product he used. “Do you like it, noona?"

You chuckled. "Of course, I like it," you said fondly, nuzzling the dark roots of the blond locks. It felt nice inhaling his familiar scent, a comforting and clean one. "You're my lock screen."

"I've been betrayed."

You chuckled as you heard the raspy, sleepy voice of Min Yoongi, your boyfriend. Owner of said apartment you were in right now. The lazy center of your universe. The reason why you even bothered to run around in the dark. The reason why you had to match your schedule with the guard shift so the security that recognized you could turn a blind eye. Not all of the security recognized you, just the ones Yoongi had a careful and stem conversation with. That’s how it had to be.

All because Min Yoongi was also SUGA of BTS. Agust D. Lil meow meow. The softest fluff with the sharpest tongue. 

You looked up to see Yoongi padding down the hallway in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose black pants. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, squinting, but with a small smile on his lips. Jungkook released you as Yoongi neared, your body automatically wandering towards him. You reached into your oversized parka coat and pulled out your phone. You had changed the outside once again, to a TinyTan SUGA clear case, to show off the multi-chrome purple finish of the BTS S20+. You turned it around in your hand and pressed the side button. The screen lit up, revealing your lock screen.

"Thanks for standing next to each other. It made picking a lock screen much easier."

It was a picture of Jungkook and Yoongi, standing on stage right before the 'Life Goes On' performance at GDA 2020.

"I missed seeing you there," you added softly, holding your phone tightly. It was weirdly emotional, knowing Yoongi was back. How could he ever think anyone was going to forget him? “It’s always better when the seven of you are together.”

Yoongi chuckled, fluffing the back of his black hair. "Ah, back to working hard once again..." he complained, but you could tell he didn't mean it at all. 

And for you.

You wanted him to be on stage again. You wanted him to be busy again, doing what he loved, getting into nonsense in Run BTS!, looking cool in photo shoots, back to actively making music all the time. You were an independent person and you didn't necessarily need your significant other to always be beside you. For the longest time, you had even been quite comfortable with it. But the little while of Yoongi's sudden rest made you realize that it was nice to always be around him. To be somewhat normal, even if your relationship couldn’t and would never be fully normal.

And now you were disturbing his sleep. Now, not just his, but Jungkook's too. And maybe... Maybe that made you a burde–

Yoongi suddenly stepped up and tapped you lightly on the forehead with two fingers. 

"Stop that train of thought right now."

You frowned and bonked him right back with the back of your hand. "What if I was thinking about dick, huh?"

"If you were thinking about dick, you'd be on Jungkook's right now, and then I'd be pulling up a chair to watch the show."

"What if I was thinking about your dick, hmm?"

"Do you even remember what my dick looks like?" Yoongi replied haughtily. 

"Of course, I do. You painted the fucking Mona Lisa on my tits the last time I was here."

"Hm, you're right."

Jungkook was laughing hard behind you, the high-pitched one that came out when he couldn’t help himself. Both of you turned to see Jungkook with his arms around his stomach as he cackled at your bickering. 

"It's like..." Jungkook wheezed. "It's like watching hyung fight himself and losing..."

"I’m not losing," Yoongi retorted, pursing his lips. 

"You always lose."

"Because I let you win."

"That's true, because you love me."

You smiled cheekily at Yoongi. You thought he was going to give you his usual snappy comeback, but instead he leaned over and kissed your forehead. His  hair shaded his eyes a little. He smiled at you, dark brown orbs sparkling. 

I do love you. 

"You wanna spend all night standing here or are you going to join me in bed?" Yoongi teased, ticking his chin at your sneakers. 

You pointed to Jungkook. "Is he coming too?"

The laughter instantly left Jungkook’s face, replaced by nervousness. "Ah... I don't have to..." he stammered. "If you guys want to be alone... I only wanted to say hello..."

"He's coming," Yoongi said purposefully, ignoring Jungkook's ramble. "He's been waiting two hours to stick his dick in you."

"Hyung!"

You raised your eyebrows as you stepped out of your shoes. "I stated my arrival time in the text. Did you not tell him?"

"I told him, but he came right after shooting. Just in case you arrived earlier."

You smirked and tugged on Jungkook’s white shirt. "Did he tell you why I can only come at specific times?"

"I know, but..." Jungkook chewed on his lip. "Hyung said he would try and see if you could come more often."

You smiled ruefully as you took Yoongi's hand and followed him down the hall. You were still holding onto Jungkook's shirt, so you lowered your hand to take his too. He looked surprised for a second before you squeezed it reassuringly. The white with his blond hair was a good choice. You wondered if it was done on purpose. He was even wearing nicer black trousers, although his shirt wasn’t tucked in.

Was it for your sake?

"Ah, I don’t know if that’s possible. Don't want anyone to find out, after all. And," you added with a chuckle. "I don't want to get you in trouble either, Jungkookie."

"He's already in trouble," Yoongi laughed. "Taehyung caught him mumbling your name in his sleep."

Jungkook's cheeks instantly flushed. "I-It wasn't sexual!"

You blinked at him. "No one said it was."

He turned redder and grabbed your parka, hiding his face behind the big hood. "R... right."

Maybe you were being too greedy. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut so Yoongi wouldn’t feel pressure to indulge in your fantasies. Maybe you were asking too much.

The sigh came out of you, heavy with self-doubt.

"Maybe we shou–"

Yoongi's lips were suddenly on yours, kissing you deeply. Your eyes widened as he pressed you against Jungkook's hard body, watching you through half-lidded eyes. He could sense your worry and perhaps he guessed your reaction. You hand reached back to hold onto Jungkook to prevent yourself from falling, but your eyes were on Yoongi, the one who knew you best, the one who knew that he too was asking a lot from you, the one who was trying to remind you that everything was okay. His dark brown orbs were telling you, we will take everything step by step, and his lips moved on yours, I love you. You mouthed it back with a smile. 

Yoongi pulled away, the smile reaching his eyes. 

"You're the most special person to me."

Your heart softened, hearing those familiar words from your current favorite song. 

"I thought that was for ARMY."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow in mock distraught. "Are you not an ARMY?"

"Of course."

"Then it's for you too."

Yoongi was like that. He couldn't and wasn't the kind of guy to write you traditional love songs, but he gave you all sorts of other things. Small things, actions that seemed trivial or nonexistent to others. And maybe someone else would overlook those things, but you knew how difficult it was for him to show affection, even more so because of his job. To be honest, you were similar, showing your love in nuance and teasing. Also, you liked the treasure hunt that was Min Yoongi. And above all, most importantly, he listened to you, listened so deeply it felt like he knew what you were thinking. 

There was nothing like the telepathy been you and Min Yoongi. 

Jungkook was sniffing your head. 

"What's this small?"

You almost laughed at his childlike tone. Yoongi smiled too, leaning forward and sniffing your temple, next to your hair.

"Oh? It's fruity."

"It's peaches," you explained as Jungkook parted your hair to sniff deeper, as if that was going to do anything. He was probably just trying to fuck up your hair. "I ran out of shampoo and they didn’t have my usual at the store."

You were suddenly aware that you were squashed between Yoongi and Jungkook’s bodies as they two of them were smelling you, Yoongi’s arms around your waist, Jungkook’s hands on your hips. Despite being fully clothed, the position was sending tingles up your spine, your breathing shallowing, tickling Yoongi’s cheek as Jungkook brushed your hair to one side, pressing his lips against your bare neck. You felt Yoongi’s lips on your jaw, kissing against your pulse. You whined a little, one hand bunching against Yoongi’s shirt as your other hand drifted down to Jungkook’s right hand on your hip, stroking his knuckles.

Yoongi reached up to unzip your parka.

“W-wait, be careful–” you started, but Yoongi shushed you, nuzzling your cheek.

“I will be,” Yoongi whispered softly. “That’s why Jungkook’s here to help me.”

You bit your lip as Yoongi unzipped your coat with his right hand, using his left to hold the placket down. He kissed up to your mouth as his hands slid into the coat, fingers brushing against the red flannel underneath. Jungkook’s lips were moving up to your ear, lightly nipping at the curve and making you shiver, chest bumping against Yoongi’s as your ass hit Jungkook’s crotch.

“I…” You shut your eyes, trying to concentrate as Yoongi sucked on your lower lip. “I don’t deserve this…”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting at your lip roughly. You opened your eyes to his disapproving glare, eyes dark from his lowered lashes. His large hands squeezed your waist.

“You’re not allowed to say such things.”

You felt the heat spread from his hands, pooling into your core.

“Isn’t that right, Jungkook?”

Yoongi ticked an eyebrow at you as you gasped a little, Jungkook’s lips on your earlobe, voice lustful and deep.

“That’s right, noona. Let Yoongi-hyung and I ruin you.”

…

Help.

Yoongi’s fingers began undoing the buttons of the red flannel, one by one. He was well practiced at unbuttoning shirts with one hand now. A skill that he had honed for himself and for you. He smirked as you noticed, whispering your name in a slow, purring drawl, deep and raspy, dark brown eyes watching you and drinking in your reaction.

Min Yoongi was scary. He knew how to make you wet instantly.

And then Jungkook did the same, breathing your name into your ear in his silvery low octave. Your hand on Yoongi’s shirt clenched and tugged him close, moaning into his lips, kissing him hard. Jungkook’s hand slipped out of yours and reached up to your shoulders, pushing your clothes down, revealing your bare skin. Taking them off you as your tongue slid into Yoongi’s mouth, his soft pants against your lips as your hips grinded into Jungkook’s crotch, feeling him harden at your closeness. Your parka and shirt slid to the floor as Yoongi pulled you forward, closer and closer to the bed, Jungkook encouraging you by smacking your ass with his hips.

Yoongi broke the kiss with a flick of his head, making you whine in disappointment. He chuckled, looking down at you with a devious smile.

“Jungkook wants something from you.”

Yoongi turned you around with his hands on your hips, colliding you with Jungkook’s hard chest. You gasped a little, looking up to see Jungkook chewing on his lower lip, bunny teeth flashing. The tiny mole under his lip bounced with his biting. His golden hair framed his apprehensive brown eyes, finally making eye contact.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You tilted your head. “Do you want me to blow you again?”

Jungkook’s ears flushed red. “A-ah, n-no… I mean, yes, but…”

Yoongi snickered, unhooking your bra with his right hand. He lowered one strap and then the other, stripping it from you and tossing it aside. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink, eyes immediately dropping to stare at your tits. You smirked, placing your palms underneath them and bouncing them a little. You felt Yoongi’s fingers dancing down the small of your back, hovering around the waistband of your black sweatpants.

“Why aren’t you dressed like how you are on your Instagram?” Yoongi muttered behind you. “False advertising.”

“You have an Instagram?” Jungkook blurted out, still staring at your nipples.

You rolled your eyes even though Yoongi couldn’t see you. “Because someone would notice, obviously.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “Just one time…”

“Wait, how come I don’t know you have an Instagram?” Jungkook whined, hands coming up to settle on your breasts and squeezing them. You lowered your hands, gasping as Jungkook’s palms rubbed against your hard nipples.

“You never asked,” Yoongi answered, snapping the waistband into your skin. “Also, it’s private.”

“C-can we talk about this later?” you panted out.

Jungkook grinned and dropped his hands a little, brushing his fingers against your nipples. You moaned softly, your vision shaded by your lashes, seeing his mischievous smirk.

“Mhm, as long as you promise to show me after.”

You scoffed. “Sure, it’s not that interestin–” You whimpered as Jungkook pinched your nipples, rubbing them between his fingertips. “A-ah, Jungkook…”

He breathed your name, no honorifics, and your eyes locked with his. Fuck, he was so handsome with his ash blond hair, reminding you of when Yoongi had blond hair. Ugh, so fucking hot. You felt your sweatpants being shoved down your hips but you barely noticed, lost in daydreams of blond Yoongi and blond Jungkook.

“Can I eat you out?”

You were abruptly yanked back into the present by Jungkook’s request.

“Yes.” Fuck. You said that far too fast and far too needy. Jungkook grinned, removing his hands from your breasts. “Ah, I mean…”

He leaned forward, pressing his nose against yours. “You’re out of it today.”

You felt Yoongi’s fingers slip under the waistband of your panties. His lips were traveling down your back, kissing down your spine. You trembled slightly, swallowing as you stared into Jungkook’s dark brown eyes.

And you couldn’t help but think, was this really okay? Was this fair, for you to have both at once?

Jungkook tipped his head, lips against yours. He seemed to sense your hesitation. “I thought you wanted me?” His soft hair brushed against your cheek, golden rays blocking your vision. “Thought you loved looking at me?”

“I do,” you whimpered. “I love looking at you.”

Yoongi fingers pulling your panties down, down, liquid leaking out and clinging to the inside of your thighs. Your cheeks heated, realizing how wet you were.

“Then what’s the matter?” Yoongi purred against your lower back.

“Don’t… don’t want to hurt you, Yoongi,” you whispered against Jungkook’s lips. Your vision blurred and you blinked rapidly. Ah, why was the world so heavy all of a sudden? Why couldn’t you be calm as usual? Why couldn’t you roll with it as usual?

Because you missed them.

Them.

Jungkook kissed you tenderly as Yoongi stood back up, his lips pressed to your ear.

“There’s nothing like us. You know there isn’t.”

He was right, of course. There was nothing like you and Yoongi.

Jungkook pulled back and Yoongi’s right hand appeared in your periphery, his long fingers tucking Jungkook’s blond hair behind his left ear, giving you a clear view of Jungkook’s beautiful eyes, the unique shape, the rich brown color, the way they looked at you, as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. Waiting for the heartbreak.

“And there’s no one like Jungkook,” Yoongi murmured. “You want him. He wants you. Isn’t that enough?”

And Yoongi was right again. There was no one like Jungkook.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you breathed. “I’m sorry, but I really do want you so bad.”

“You can have me. However much you want,” Jungkook replied. Eyes locked with yours, meaning every word. He tilted his head, leaning in again, lashes lowering, breath against your lips.

“I want you to take it all.”

But Jungkook wasn’t the only one who said it.

Your eyes widened as you heard Yoongi echo Jungkook’s words right into your ear.

“Take it all,” Yoongi growled. “Take it and don’t hold back.”

Your name fell from Yoongi’s lips, your name, like a spark to fire, igniting you. There no one like Yoongi, snapping you out of your doubt, taking your heart and holding it tight while turning you on. You grabbed Jungkook’s white shirt and yanked his body to yours as you kissed him, inhaling his clean scent, his lips an addiction. And there was no one like Jungkook, because what both of you thought was just a crush, just a one-time thing, wasn’t. For some reason, you couldn’t stop and he couldn’t stop, hooked on the taste of his lips and his tongue sliding against yours, moaning into your mouth as you moaned into his, feeling Yoongi’s hands on your hips, pressing you into Jungkook’s clothed crotch, some of your juices getting onto his pants and staining them.

Jungkook pushed your head up, breaking the kiss and gasping, eyelids fluttering. He pressed your head back against Yoongi’s shoulder, kissing down your chest, running his tongue over your skin. You shuddered, head falling back down to watch him. Chocolate orbs to yours as he licked your left nipple, twirling his wet muscle around it, covering it with saliva. You whimpered at the dirty action, arching your back to press the hard nub into his mouth. Jungkook whined in his throat, closing his lips around it as you humped your chest onto his face. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, intensifying the feeling as Yoongi teased your other nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

Your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction.

Jungkook released your nipple, licking it a few times, letting you watch the swollen nub get slapped back and forth by his tongue. You shivered, hips bumping into his. Jungkook’s strong hands came up to hold you still.

“Don’t waste it by rubbing it all over me,” he teased. “I want it in my mouth.”

You clutched his white shirt and yanked up, making Jungkook yelp with your force.

“Take it off,” you half-growled, half-whined. “Need it off.”

Yoongi chuckled at your impatience as Jungkook wiggled out of his shirt, throwing it aside. He looked back at you, blond hair covering one of his eyes, smirk on his lips.

“Better?”

Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. The shape of his broad shoulders, his sculpted arms, the fucking tattoos that shone on his tan skin, the way his body trimmed down to that v-line. Your eyes roamed down his torso and then back up, licking your lips. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, completely aware of your staring.

“Yes. Much better.”

You took him by the shoulders and pushed him down to his knees. His eyes widened, stumbling a little as he knelt for you, hands coming up to grip your hips for support. You pushed his left hand away, hooking your leg onto Jungkook’s left shoulder and presenting your pussy right into his face. He gasped at the sight, eyes glued to your dripping core, lips parting wetly.

“Fuck,” he breathed hotly. You squirmed, trying to get into his face, but his right hand held you down, drinking in the image in front of him, left hand finding your ass and gripping it tightly. “You smell so fucking sexy.”

“Jungkook, please…”

His eyes flickered up to your face, half-lidded with lust, dipping his head down.

“Can’t resist you,” he mumbled. “I just have to have a taste of his nectar.”

And then his tongue on you, licking a fat stripe across your opening, moaning as your flavor invaded his tastebuds, his hand lifting your ass to tip your hips into his hot mouth. You gasped, pressing into Yoongi’s chest, your hands reaching behind you and gripping his slim waist. You had to tilt your body and lock your upper arms so you wouldn’t bump into his left shoulder by accident. Yoongi hummed soothingly, aware of your consideration, hands gently kneading your breasts as Jungkook’s wet tongue slid into your hole, witnessing your wanton expression as he sucked out your juices, adding a little suction, removing it, driving you insane.

“A-ah, yes, fuck, Jungkook, yes…”

When was the last time Yoongi ate you out? Months ago. Yoongi had a tongue unmatched, the perfect combination of speed, pressure, and technique. His tongue technology, one might say. Jungkook’s tongue was softer, less practiced, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and his intense gaze on you, moaning into your pussy. You slid down a little and cried out as his tongue made contact with your sensitive clit, his tongue pressing against it and swirling, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your thigh tensing against his cheek.

“Mm, yes, Jungkook, right there…”

Yoongi pinched and pulled your nipples. You snuck a glance at him, looking up, and realized he was looking down at you. His lips curved upwards to a playful smirk as he noticed your curious gaze. He tugged at your nipples, earning your soft whines.

“You moved down to put less strain on my shoulder?” he murmured fondly.

You nodded quickly, gasping as Jungkook sucked on your clit, causing you to roll your hips into his face. Jungkook grunted, digging his fingers into your ass, spreading you out under him. Fuck, his mouth was so soft and so warm, adding to your heat. Your hands worked into his hair, pressing him into you, his slurping sounds so lewd that your legs were quivering.

His eyes flickered to yours, pupils dilated, nose in your crotch, and, fuck, Jeon Jungkook was just so hot, on his knees and eating you out like a fucking buffet, his tattooed arm curved around you and your right thigh on his left shoulder, pressing against his cheek as your fingers curled in his blond locks, humping his face to add friction. Either Jungkook was inherently good at eating pussy or he had somehow rehearsed this and, considering his profession, you were guessing the former.

The Golden Maknae lived up to his name in appearance and talent.

You didn’t want to lean too much on Yoongi, so you put more of your weight onto Jungkook. He seemed to feel nothing at all, busy clamping his lips down on your clit and sucking harder. You sank your teeth into your lower lip, wail in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as all of the sensations piled on you at once – Yoongi’s deft fingers playing with your nipples, Jungkook’s scorching mouth and tongue abusing your swollen clit, your hands gripping Jungkook’s soft hair and fucking his handsome face – and it was too much, all too much as your lower lip popped out of your teeth, moaning loudly as your orgasm radiated through you, throbbing waves rippling from your core as you came into Jungkook’s waiting mouth and chin, leaking all over his skin, dripping down his neck. He groaned, vibrating your clit, and you gasped, rutting into his face roughly, pressing your head into Yoongi’s torso.

“Oh, God, fuck, Jungkook, Yoongi…”

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was suffocating or not, but Jungkook himself didn’t seem to give a shit, cleaning you off with his tongue and burying his nose into your pussy, rubbing it against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensitivity, your leg falling off his shoulder as you sucked in a breath. It forced his mouth to retreat, and you were greeted with the sight of Jungkook’s eyes slowly opening, his nose, lips, and chin covered in your glistening, viscous juices. He made eye contact with you, hand coming up to wipe it off, pink tongue sliding out and licking it from the back of his hand.

“Hah…” Jungkook panted, hungrily sucking up your taste. “That’s my drink of choice.”

You chuckled. “Sorry you can’t get it at a bar.”

Jungkook ticked his head, smirking devilishly. “I can if you’re sitting on the bar, legs spread open for me.”

Damn, what a visual. You straightened with the help of Yoongi, only for his right hand to close around your arm, yanking you to the bed. You started, bouncing slightly as you fell onto the mattress. Jungkook seemed amused, standing up to watch with interest. His blond hair was tousled wildly, messy from you holding onto his head. He smirked, lips dark pink from eating you out, the sharpness of his jawline standing out. But you couldn’t stare at him for long, because Yoongi plunged three fingers into your aching pussy, filling you up suddenly. You yelped, snapping your head to Yoongi’s dark, intense gaze, made darker by his black bangs shadowing his eyes.

“Y-Yoongi!”

He purred your name, giving you a teasing smile, tongue against the side of his pink lips.

“Mhm?”

“W-want…” You gasped as he slowly thrust into you, thumb knuckle rubbing against your inflamed clit, pushing his fingers in, your pussy clenching around them. “Want your cock…”

“Sorry, my love,” he murmured. “Can’t yet. Doctor’s orders.”

You furrowed your brows at him, raising your hips to meet his hand. “I’m beginning you think you’re enjoying denying me.”

Yoongi’s foxy smile implied just that. “What are you talking about?” He leaned down, tongue dancing between his teeth, snickering as you whimpered. “I’m not denying you. That’s why I asked Jungkook to come and stuff his big cock into you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip and snapped your legs closed, eyes rolling back into your head as you came all over his hand, soaking his skin and dripping onto the bed. Yoongi moaned softly as he felt your walls pulse against his fingers.

“Fuck, I love it when I can feel you cum for me.”

You shuddered, muscles tingling with pleasure. Yoongi pulled his fingers out slowly, groaning as he felt you tighten around them, trying to prevent him from leaving. He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Could you help hyung out, Jungkook?”

You shifted your eyes to Jungkook, who suddenly froze, the fly of his black pants wide open, hand down his black boxer briefs. Yoongi noticed your startled expression and turned his head too, both eyebrows raising. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink.

“Er…”

“Were you jacking off just now?”

Jungkook’s eyes darted everywhere except Yoongi’s face. “Er…”

“Show me, Jungkook,” you breathed out.

His large doe-like eyes shot to your body to on the bed, legs spreading, Yoongi’s wet fingers hovering over your quivering mound. He stole a glance at Yoongi, who jerked his head towards you.

“She gave you an order.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whined. “It’s embarrassing…”

Yoongi shrugged, his fingers touching your swollen clit. You jumped, gasping as he rubbed in slow, large circles, stimulating it gently. The sensitive bundle of nerves throbbed against his fingertips, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y-Yoongi, don’t, I’m t-too sensitive,” you panted, legs threatening to close once more.

“Keep your legs open,” Yoongi said sternly. “Let Jungkookie see.”

You gritted your teeth, hands twisting in the sheets, hips raising to his hand. “I c-can’t… You’re too good, Yoongi…” You had to lock your knees to prevent them from collapsing inwards, feeling him build his speed, eyes fluttering closed as you moaned once more, feeling the pleasure flood throughout, wetter and wetter, your slit opening and closing. You felt Yoongi lean down, his black hair against your cheek. Oh, fuck. His pine-scented cologne. Sex. Yoongi. You resisted the urge to grab his head and fiercely make out with him. He wasn’t fully recovered yet. His voice was that low, raspy drawl, arousing you just as much as his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Open your eyes and see what you’ve done to poor Jungkook.”

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook was closer now, right next to the bed, pants and underwear around his knees as he pumped his cock right next to you, eyes fixated on Yoongi’s fingers and your sopping wet pussy, his pouty pink lips wet and open, blond hair all over his face. The head of his cock was an angry red, veins popping out along the thick length as he smeared his pre-cum over the tip with his finger, hissing at the sensitivity. He seemed to feel your stare and then your eyes locked.

“Jungkook…”

Breathlessly, his name drifting out of your lips like smoke.

His dark brown orbs were nearly black with how blown-out his pupils were. He gasped your name out, needy and desperate, his chin lifting, hair falling back to reveal his lustful dark eyes as his mouth opened, pink tongue lolling out a little.

“Wanna cum with you,” Jungkook begged. “Tell when you’re close. Please.”

You nodded, sharply cut off as Yoongi assaulted your clit, forearm nearly vibrating as he pushed you to the edge, so close, so close that you had to chomp down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from orgasming right then and there.

“Y-Yoongi, he’s not ready yet…”

Yoongi chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

You whimpered, thighs caving in a little, but Yoongi growled deep in his chest, warning you.

“Don’t close your legs.”

Normally you would fight him, but this situation was different. You wanted to please Yoongi, give him everything he asked for because you knew he couldn’t get everything he wanted. Your core tightened, the pitch of your cries hiking as you tried to hold back, staring at Jungkook’s long fingers wrapped around his thick, stiff cock, black tattoos rippling on tan skin as he chased his climax, watching your legs shake with strain as Yoongi took you to your limits. Your wetness was soaking a puddle into the sheets, the scent of your arousal so strong it seemed to prevail all others.

Fuck, you couldn’t anymore, you just couldn’t.

“J-Jungkook… a-ah, gonna cum soon, fuck, Yoongi, fuck, you’re too fucking good!”

Your last words turned into a wild, guttural moan as you came, hips ramming into Yoongi’s hand, back arching, your orgasm pulling you up taut like a marionette on a string, thighs shaking as your pussy throbbed with release. Your juices dripped down like honey, splattering over your thighs and down your ass before you abruptly fell, legs crumpling as Yoongi’s hand cupped your hot, trembling mound, his heavy pants mixing with yours. He groaned softly, feeling your puffy pussy lips and clit flinch and jerk as the aftershocks rippled through your nerves.

Jungkook whined deep in his throat, splattering his cum all over your leg and on the sheets, hot thick strings that made you shudder as it covered your skin. He pumped it all out, emptying it on you. Surely, you couldn’t muster the strength to take a dick right now. But one look at Jungkook and his hand still gripping his cock, slowly, delicately stroking it once more, staring at the mess that both of you made, sweat beaded on his forehead.

Yeah, no, you definitely wanted it in you.

“Jungkook…”

He raised his head, ash blond strands soaked with sweat, wispy around his eyes.

“Want your cock.”

He smirked. “What do you say?”

Now. You resisted the urge to be a smartass. There were other ways.

“Let noona’s wet, tight pussy take care of you,” you purred.

The dominant spark in Jungkook’s eyes flitted away, replaced by his submissive doe eyes, his desire, his desperation. Fuck, it was so fun seeing that, the duality, reminding you so much of Yoongi and his softness juxtaposed with his sarcasm. Yoongi removed his hand, moving to the nightstand and grabbing a towel, reaching over to wipe Jungkook’s cum off you. You sat up, taking the towel from him as you noticed him leaning on his left arm.

“Ah, be careful,” you reprimanded, shooing him away.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not broken.”

“You’re not fixed either,” you pouted, cleaning yourself up. You made eye contact with him and he clicked his tongue, nodding. Yoongi was about to move away, but you grabbed a fistful of his sweatpants, pulling him back. He tilted his head, sending you an inquisitive look.

“I shouldn’t do any more,” he murmured. “I can just watch.”

You yanked the side of his pants down and Yoongi arched an eyebrow. Your eyes on his crotch, then back to his face. Your lips parted, tongue flickering out. He could put two and two together.

“You can do some things without moving.”

His gaze sharpened. “I’m going to want to fuck your face.”

Your lips curved into a smirk. “Well, you can’t. You’ll have to sit there and take it like a good boy.” You removed your hand and patted the pillows, grinning. “I want to get spit roasted.”

Yoongi sucked in a tight breath, eyebrow twitching.

“It’s not really a spit roast unless you’re the passive one,” Yoongi tried to argue as he tugged his pants down, getting onto the bed. You scooted down, feeling a hard, firm body come up behind you, hands sliding up your waist to cup you breasts. You moaned softly, pressing your ass against Jungkook’s leaking cock, feeling it throb against your skin.

“Need a condom, hyung,” Jungkook panted, exhaling in satisfaction as his fingers ran over your nipples, earning pleading gasps.

Yoongi reached over to grab one as you reached back, running your hand over Jungkook’s semi-hard length, spreading the pre-cum down the head. Your fingertip touched the slit and he shivered, whining against your neck.

“Noona, don’t…”

You took the condom from Yoongi with your free hand, wrapping your fingers around Jungkook’s cock as he moaned, tugging at your nipples repeatedly. Your hips jerked involuntarily, skin rubbing against the sensitive head, making him groan.

“Need you hard for me.”

You stroked him slowly, not too tight, not too loose, his warm cock throbbing in your hand. You felt one of Jungkook’s hands leave your chest, gripping your hand tightly around his cock. His cock swelled at the sudden stop, pressing against your palm. His lips touched your ear and you shivered at his voice, low and dangerous, almost feral.

“Oh, I’ll be hard,” Jungkook snarled softly. “Impossible not to be hard…” His other hand dropped, snaking down your stomach. You tensed up as he neared closer and closer. Yoongi cleared his throat and your head snapped up to see him tilting his head, observing closely with an amused smirk.

“Jungkook, d-don’t…”

“… In this pussy.”

And you moaned loudly, feeling two of his fingers slip down and spread your pussy lips, engorged clit poking out from your repeated orgasms. Even the small stimulation made you wetter, drenching the inside of your thighs as Yoongi’s hungry eyes watched Jungkook spread you open for him to see.

“Spread your legs for hyung,” Jungkook ordered, nipping at your earlobe.

You whined, opening your thighs and tipping them up for Yoongi to see your glistening, pink pussy lips forced open by Jungkook’s fingers, your walls pulsing with need. Your hand was still around Jungkook’s cock, holding his hardness as you watching Yoongi’s right hand enclose his already stiff length, licking his lips at this dirty display.

“Flick her clit, Jungkook.”

You cried out, hips bucking as Jungkook flicked your clit with his nail, releasing his cock and falling onto your hands, staring into Yoongi’s mischievous, triumphant eyes. The condom fluttered to the bed, dropped by the sudden shock of painful ecstasy.

“P-Please…” Too many orgasms, too much pleasure. It was turning you into a mess, taking over you, leaving you at the mercy of the two men, crawling towards Yoongi, ass up in the air as you went low, looking up at him, pleading him. “Need you in my mouth, Yoongi. Wanna make you feel good.”

Yoongi removed his hand, ticking his chin to Jungkook. “Ask him to shove his dick into you.”

You bit your lip, turning back and wiggling your ass, seeing Jungkook roll the condom down. His eyes on yours, sending shivers down your spine with his intense gaze and naughty smirk.

“Jungkook.” Even his name from your lips seemed to darken his chocolate orbs with lust. “Want your cock to fill me up.”

“That’s too nice,” Yoongi chided.

Your ears burned. But, well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Jungkook, please, please use my pussy to cum, fuck, want you inside me so fucking bad.”

He groaned, sliding up to you, gripping your hips, pressing his fingers into your ass, positioning himself right at your entrance.

“You sound so fucking sexy begging for cock,” he purred. “I just have to give it to you.”

And then he plunged into you, both of you moaning so loudly that the soundproof walls were saving you once again, so wet that your pussy squelched around his thick cock. Ah, he just felt so good, so hard and unforgiving, stretching you out forcefully. You turned back to Yoongi, lowering your head as he spread his legs for you, lifting his shirt as you swallowed his cock, eyelids fluttering as his taste was on your lips once again, invading your mouth, familiar and wonderful. You saw Yoongi moan watching you, cat-like eyes shrouded with lust, biting his lip as you sank down, vibrating his cock with your cries as Jungkook’s length fully entered you, his balls hitting your over-stimulated clit.

So full.

Oh, fuck.

You tried to say Yoongi’s name around his cock, hoping your eyes could tell him what you meant. I missed this so fucking much. His perfect length filling your mouth, smelling so good and so him, burying itself in your throat.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathed. “Fuck, you look so fucking beautiful taking two cocks at once.”

Jungkook slid out a little and thrust into you. You whimpered around Yoongi, staring into his eyes, tightening your throat muscles as you opened your lips, tongue unfurling down, down.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi hissed, tipping his head back as he felt your tongue on his balls, his stiff cock throbbing as you rubbed it against the roof of your mouth, slapping his balls with your tongue at the same time, warm saliva dripping down and coating them. “Yes, fuck, you’re so good at that, fuck, I love you so fucking much, a-ah…”

And now Jungkook was really fucking you, hard, deep thrusts that shoved you repeatedly onto Yoongi’s cock. You had to retreat your head a little to prevent yourself from choking, but you didn’t stop licking Yoongi’s balls, his handsome face painted with pleasure, murmuring your name, praising you. You swiped your tongue from his balls to the tip of his member, teasing the sensitive skin underneath the head expertly before sliding back down. Up and down, stroking him with your tongue. Yoongi groaned, hips rising into your throat. Fuck, you loved seeing his normally serious face completely consumed by lust, loved the way he lost himself to you.

And, oh fuck, you loved the how you felt as your pussy was assaulted by Jungkook’s cock, stretching you out, pressing against your walls, filling you up as you squeezed him back, massaging all of him as he descended.

“Your pussy is so tight,” Jungkook panted. “Fuck, so tight and so wet, I love it so much, I love fucking you noona, you’re just so fucking good at taking cock.”

You withdrew your tongue from Yoongi’s balls, encasing your lips around his length and sucking hard, creating a tight, wet vacuum, Jungkook’s hips slapping against yours adding to your motion. Yoongi gasped, spreading his fingers on the bed, head pressed into the headboard. His dark eyes were half-lidded, watching your ass bounce as Jungkook fucked you onto his cock, forcing you to swallow him at a quick, rough pace.

“Fuck, I knew it would be good,” Yoongi breathed, gaze shifting to you and your eyes looking up at him, witnessing his satisfied expression. “Look at you. So fucking perfect, lips wrapped around my cock, Jungkook’s dick squeezed by your pretty pussy.” It made you wetter, knowing Yoongi was liking this, knowing he was aroused seeing you like this. His hand came up and tucked your hair back, fingertips brushing against your forehead. His touch made you whine, encouraging you to fuck Jungkook back eagerly, ass slapping into his crotch, bobbing your head up and down faster, tighter.

And Yoongi’s eyes on you, telling you everything. I want you, I need you, I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I’ll give you anything I can, because I can’t give you everything.

And Jungkook’s cock was twitching in your pussy, indicating he was close, his husky moans filling up the room as Yoongi’s own breathing shallowed, drinking in every detail, not wanting to miss any moment of you getting fucked so carnally, sinfully full from front to back, whole body shaking from the previous multiple orgasms. You could tell that he wanted you to feel so much pleasure that you were wrecked and it was working, oh, fuck, it was working as pleasure crawled to every fiber of your being, forgetting that your jaw and pussy were aching, forgetting your knees were basically jelly, forgetting you had any other responsibilities in life except making Yoongi and Jungkook cum with your tight, wet holes, so fueled by adrenaline that you rocked your body back and forth, stimulating both at once.

Your eyes locked with Yoongi’s.

Cum for me.

“I’m close,” he murmured. “Tighter. Choke Jungkook’s cock with your perfect pussy.”

You hollowed your cheeks and squeezed your core. You heard Jungkook yelp, fingertips digging into your ass.

“A-ah, c-can’t hold on…” Jungkook rambled, eyes rolling back, gasping for breath. “You’re so lucky, hyung, fuck, so lucky she’s yours.”

Jungkook smacked his hips into you, once, twice, letting out a deep groan as he came, shooting into you, cock throbbing against your walls as his balls slapped your clit, sending you over the edge as you whined around Yoongi’s cock, feeling it jerk in your mouth as he came down your throat, thick, delicious saltiness sliding down, pooling on your tongue, your pussy pulsing in time with Yoongi, drinking him as your pussy shivered around Jungkook’s cock, milking him dry. Your body shuddered hard, trembling from head to toe, the ferocity of your orgasm rattling you, so much so that it felt like the world was spinning. You popped your mouth off of Yoongi’s cock, sliding down against his thigh, wheezing for oxygen.

Yoongi’s hand instantly came up to touch your shoulder, caressing it tenderly. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, hot breath against his skin, knees sliding down, taking Jungkook with you because he also was at the point of exhaustion. Yoongi frowned at you and you gave him a weak thumbs up, cheekily grinning at him, wiping the spit off your chin with his thigh.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you thumbs-up me, woman, tell me you’re not dying.”

You leaned against his thigh, sighing as Jungkook pulled out of you.

“I’m very pleased,” you exhaled happily.

“I’m glad the god is satisfied with her sacrifice,” Yoongi remarked dryly, trying to sound annoyed but his affectionate smile gave him away. You smiled back before turning around, finding Jungkook on his back, chest heaving, hair soaked with sweat. You scooted down to him, brushing ash blond strands away from his face. His eyes were closed, pretty lashes against his skin, cheeks flushed pink with exertion.

“I… I can go…” Jungkook mumbled. “Give you guys some alone time and stuff.”

“Jungkook.”

His opened his eyes, brown orbs shifting to you. Apologetic, kind.

“Do you want this to be more?”

His lips curved into a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No. This is fine.”

“Don’t lie to her,” Yoongi scolded, moving to sit beside you and glare down at him.

Jungkook swallowed, looking away. “I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden, hyung. I don’t want to ruin your relationship.”

“Don’t you think you would have done that already if that was possible?” Yoongi scoffed, placing his hand on yours, rubbing your knuckles.

Jungkook eyes flickered to your joined hands, then to your face.

“R-Really…?”

You exchanged a glance with Yoongi and he poked your forehead, exasperated.

“Have I not maybe yourself clear with you?” Yoongi grumbled grumpily. His eyes shifted down, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t give you everything. I can’t go on dates. I can’t kiss you in public. I can’t even hold your hand or stand near you outside this fucking door.” The frustration was clear in his voice. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him it was okay, but you resisted, letting him get his words out. He turned to Jungkook, his dark brown eyes serious and sad.

“You can’t do that either, you know? It’s lonely. It sucks. You can only have moments like these, behind closed doors.”

Jungkook looked up at him, expression unreadable.

“Then why… why did you share it with me?”

“Because,” Yoongi started, eyes flickering to you. “Because I wanted to make her happy. Because I can’t do everything, but I can do some things. And because Bangtan is everything to me.” Yoongi was mumbling a little, not used to this level of emotion. “If I can maybe make you happy too, Jungkook, why wouldn’t I try?”

You could see Jungkook was also awkward because this was a delicate situation with even more complicated emotions, made more complex that they were two members of the same idol group, almost like brothers in closeness, held to the same rules and the same restrictions. Jungkook blinked rapidly, clearing his watering eyes. He looked away, hastily rubbing them with the back of his hand.

“Will it… Will it be less lonely if I’m with you, hyung, noona?” The younger man swallowed hard, clearing his vision and looking back up at both of you, brown eyes glassy. “Will it… suck less?”

You smiled, nodding slowly. “It would suck a whole lot less.”

Yoongi made a noise of affirmation, scrunching his nose. He was also blinking quite a bit, although he hid it better than Jungkook did.

Jungkook slid his right hand on the sheets, in front of your joined hands. Yoongi’s eyes darted about before he inhaled deeply, picking up your hand and plopping it on Jungkook’s, sandwiching it between the two larger palms. You pressed your fingertips against Jungkook’s knuckles, feeling Yoongi’s reassuring pat on the back of your hand, warmed from above and below.

Yoongi gave you his usual, apprehensive smile, as if he didn’t know what to do with his face when being told to look happy.

Jungkook grinned, bright bunny teeth flashing, eyes and nose scrunching with affection.

You couldn’t resist.

“Is this allowed?” you asked with a wide smirk.

Yoongi laughed, raspy and pretty.

“Definitely not.”

Jungkook sat up a bit, furrowing his brow as if he just remembered something.

“Wait, what about noona’s private Instagram tho–”

-

part iv “That's not allowed! You know what that does to me.“

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #suga x reader #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #bts smut #suga x you

[lilolpotato]

Chemicals

In which Miya Atsumu slowly poisons his girlfriend’s mind, and Suna Rintaro gives her the antidote

Warnings: Toxic behavior, body shaming, like 2 swear words

Genre: ANGST

At first it was small. That’s how it always starts, really.

You both had started dating recently, and you were in the honeymoon phase.

He would constantly make you blush, never failing to compliment you.

“Princess! If you were an angle you would be an aCUTE angle” he would wink, before hugging you and telling you how beautiful you looked that day.

Maybe it was wishful thinking or naivety, but those days you thought you both would never break up.

You spent summer nights in his muscular arms, dreaming about how handsome he would look in a suit, about the words he would say as you’re getting married, about how his face would look when he sees you in your wedding dress.

You got late on your way to the gym, he was going to walk you home like always.

You decided to just buy him a snack instead of making one like you would usually

His eyebrows creased in disappointment when you handed him the snack you bought

“You seriously bought it?”

Atsumu was too consumed in taking out his frustrations to notice your eyes growing sad

But he played it off like a joke later, and apologized.

He made excuses that he was tired from practice, or that he was frustrated with his last test grade

“Sorry princess, I swear I didn’t mean it. You know I’m grateful for how supportive you are!” He whined, “I love you, I wouldn’t change you.”

With a kiss on the lips, the incident was forgotten.

The next time he got angry was when you were late to a date

Your were stuck at the store, getting yourself some band-aids because you fell and it was bleeding, but the line was very long

It wasn’t an anniversary or an important or particularly expensive place, but it still made him angry.

You walked in half an hour late, bruises and scrapes all over your arms and legs looking like you’d just gone through hell, with a smile

You expected your Tsumu to fuss over you, give you kisses, and tell you everything was gonna be okay.

“Is this you trying to get me back for getting mad at you when you bought me that shitty snack instead of making me something? You know, all of my past girlfriends would make me delicious bentos and take care of me the right way.”

Your face dropped.

He dragged his hands through his golden hair, and the eyes that you fell in love with became eyes you were intimidated by

That day you cleaned your wounds on your own, trying to tell yourself that he shouldn’t have been that angry

But when you looked inside your heart, all you found was love and guilt.

The next day at his practice, you brought a bento you had spent hours working on, bandaids everywhere and your Tsumu apologized and moved on.

“Sorry babe, I was frustrated with practice. Love ya, bye.” He said nonchalantly.

A peck on the lips and the incident was forgotten.

You sat at the bench cheerfully, watching the team, happy that your problems were ‘solved’

Fox-like eyes noticed all your scrapes and bruises, and he sat next to you during breaks in practice, the same breaks Atsumu used to talk to his teammates and fan girls, and he asked you if you were okay.

While your Tsumu should have been consoling you, Suna was fussing over you, telling you everything was going to be okay, as your fake cheerful attitude dropped. His fists clenched as you tearfully admitted how Atsumu felt about your shortcomings as an s/o

That day, and the days after that, Suna Rintaro acted more like a boyfriend than your Tsumu did, despite your Rin only being your best friend.

Atsumu would say, “Babe, are you wearing make up? You know I like your natural look.”

And your Rin would assure you, “You look stunning no matter what you put on your face” with a tiny grin and adoring eyes.

“Hey, princess? Can you put on some make up? Your skin is looking irritated today.” Atsumu would advise.

Your Rin would disagree, shaking his head, “Even if your skin ‘looks irritated’ or whatever, who said that’s a bad thing? You should put whatever you want on your face, sweetheart, don’t listen to him.” And you would tease your Rin for being cheesy.

Atsumu would look at you in surprise,“You can’t fit into the dress I bought you? Maybe you should lose some weight, my ex was a size zero, but don’t worry, I won’t expect you to get there in a day!”

Your Rin would tell you, “I think you look beautiful, size 0 or size 100! Is there a size 100?” You would laugh together as he grumbled that talking to you was making him lose brain cells.

His foxlike eyes watched you, as he admitted to himself that he would make himself look stupid however many times if it made you laugh like that.

Atsumu would critique, “You should eat more. You’re looking pale these days, it’s kind of bothering me.”

And your Rin snapped at him that day, saying “I think your girlfriend can very much choose what she wants to put in her body.”

Atsumu only shrugged and continued munching on the bento you had painstakingly made for him

Your Rin looked at his bento in envy

Osamu would only give you a small apology whenever he heard Atsumu say something mean to you.

He didn’t know you very well, but he did know that you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. However, he wasn’t aware of how often Atsumu would insult you.

As the days went by, you noticed a difference between your Tsumu and Atsumu.

Atsumu hurt you. Atsumu scolded you for your mistakes. Atsumu made you question whether you were good enough to be his girlfriend.

Your Tsumu would never make you feel that way. To your Tsumu, you were a treasure, and he was grateful to keep you.

You and your Rin were walking on the grounds, because Atsumu was mad at you again.

“You’re talking to Suna too often!” He had huffed angrily, “Don’t be such a slut! He’s my best friend, don’t lead him on like that. Are you cheating on me?”

You convinced yourself that things will get better, that it was only Atsumu’s insecurities making him angry and hurtful so often.

The final dose of poison was when he fed some of the bento you had made to one of his fangirls.

They had asked for a taste, eyes sparkling, taking about how Atsumu and Osamu always had the best bentos.

So Atsumu took the chopsticks he was using, the same ones that his lips were on, and used it to feed that girl.

He was unaware that you were tearfully watching, your Rin at your side, your heart officially broken.

You walked up to him, asking him how could you do that, how could you hurt me like this?

But he scowled angrily, and those eyes, the same eyes you were once in love with, the eyes you were scared of, glared at you with so much hatred your knees almost went weak.

And after he said, “So now ya understand how it feels?” in such a petty way, the tears you’ve been holding back for so long finally came bursting forth, and so you told him, “I’m done.”

His eyes widened in realization, and before he could say anything, you finally stood up for yourself.

Because then, you told him what he’d been doing to you as the fangirl and your Rin, your currently seething Rin, watched.

“You’re poison, Miya Atsumu. You tell me to lose weight, so I starve myself. You tell me I’m a slut, that I’m not good enough. You’ve told me that I’m not pretty enough without make up, that I shouldn’t wear make up. I foolishly followed because I loved you!” You stomped your foot in frustration of your past actions.

And you walked away.

You walked to your Rin, the one who treated you how you deserve to be treated.

Because you deserve better.

Atsumu only watched helplessly as your Rin put his muscular arm around you, as you leaned on his chest, as you walked away.

Miya Atsumu isn’t the one who gets dumped, he’s the one doing the dumping.

He tried to convince himself, delude himself that it wasn’t his fault but he knew it was.

Tears fell from his once scary eyes, years later, as he looked at the wedding invitation.

You’re invited to the wedding of L/n Y/n and Suna Rintaro

He never deserved you, he poisoned you, and now that the poison doesn’t have anywhere to go, it ended up consuming him.

Miya Atsumu, professional volleyball player and playboy, sat in the corner of his apartment with sobs racking his body as he cried over his mistakes and everything he’s lost.

#atsumu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #atsumu headcanons #haikyuu atsumu #hq Atsumu #hq suna #suna x y/n #suna x you #atsumu x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro imagine #suna smut #nishinoya x reader #oikawa toru x reader #osamu miya x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyu x reader #hq x y/n #hq x reader #tsukkishima x reader #haikyuu angst

[sluttyten]

craving you like the devil craves heaven

summary: you’re a succubus (a female demon that seduces men to death) and you task yourself with seducing someone difficult. enter mark lee, a priest with a vow of celibacy that he’s already struggling with. you think you’ll have some fun. (based off this message from an anon)

length: 8,622

warnings: religious themes, sacrilegious, corruption, demons, priests, oral sex, masturbation, sex

As a newly-made succubus, you wanted to impress your peers and superiors, and therefore decided to challenge yourself by making your first time special and big.

“A priest?” Your direct superior shook her head in disbelief. “Most would start with a regular mortal who is much, much more likely to succumb to sin. Are you sure you want to commit to seducing a priest? You realize they swear to be celibate, and typically they’re committed to destroying demons like you and I?”

You do realize all of those things, but you’re sure if you find the right one you can do it. Not all priests are perfectly perfect and holy.

All it took was a little bit of divine intervention (or rather you intervening in the divine), tapping into that holy line of mortal prayers. A little eavesdropping, careful listening, and at last you plucked the correct line, listening to the reverberating prayers of a holy man dealing with such sinful thoughts, praying for help in remaining faithful to the vows of the priesthood.

It was night in this place where the young priest was. Cool and dark, the air was damp and would surely make you shiver if you were mortal, but the cold didn’t affect a demon like you, nor did the mist as it clung to your eyelashes and the strands of your hair. You stood across the street from the rectory, standing in the shadow of a doorway, gazing up at the faint golden light of a window on the second floor of the holy man’s house.

You could still hear a whisper of his prayers.

“Lord, it’s me, Mark, your servant. I pray you give me the strength to resist these desires, the sinful thoughts.” He prays, and you can almost picture him kneeling with his hands folded before him, head bowed, and lips moving slightly as he repeats the words of Latin prayers.

You decide to study him.

That night you stand there on the street and watch the house, listening to his dreams, and catching glimpses of his neighbors’ dreams, as well as the other two priests who share the home with Mark. And in the morning you shift yourself to match the wall behind you, to continue your observations as the young priest rises and dresses and walks down the street to the church. You watch as he passes through the cemetery tucked behind the church, and he pauses at some of the headstones to straighten flowers or offer a prayer, and then he enters through a side door, and you stand outside, waiting.

Several hours later a crowd begins to arrive, passing inside through the large, ornate front doors, and soon after music swells, voices rise, and you hear the chanting of prayers upon prayers. You watch as Mark emerges from the church among his parishioners, as he smiles and talks and shakes hands with them.

You take special note of the way that his eyes repeatedly flick toward another human, near the same age as himself. You notice the way his eyes follow their movements, how he smiles when they meet his eye.

Ah, this one. That one is the source of the young priest’s sinful thoughts.

You observe as the crowd thins, disappearing from the front steps of the church until it is only the priest speaking to a mother and her toddler that keeps tugging on her hand and crying, and Mark tries his best to pay full attention to her, but the lovely human who has attracted his notice stands a few feet away, holding a folder in their hands.

Eventually as the bell tower above the church chimes the hour, Mark excuses himself from the mother, stating that he has an appointment to get to, and you watch with renewed interest as he leaves the mother and beckons the nervous-looking folder-wielding individual to step back into the church with him.

They pass through the nave of the church—their footsteps echoing up to the vaulted ceiling, through all the empty pews—and bow at the altar before stepping around to the side, and passing through a doorway tucked behind a statue of a saint. They shut themselves away in the priest’s office, and you listen eavesdrop from your hiding place across from the church, a safe distance from all the blessed holiness that would try to keep you out.

You can’t quite hear Mark’s thoughts, but bear enough to it, sensing the fluctuations in his emotions as the parishioner shows him the divorce file, and pleads with him to help them resolve the issues in their marriage to their spouse in a way that won’t end like this.

You can feel Mark’s tension, the conflict within himself. It’s his duty to help. But the desire he feels for this person sitting across from him.... it’s sinful, it goes against his vows.

That night you watch him walk back to the rectory after another mass, several meetings, a meal at the home of one of his parishioner’s. You listen as he prepares himself for bed, as he prays once more for the strength to get passed this way he feels because he knows it’s not right in the eyes of the church and God.

And that night, after Mark’s window has at last gone dark, after he’s fallen into dreams, you decide that your time for first contact has come.

Mark’s dreams are easy to intrude upon. The boundaries upon the rectory, blessed though they may be, are old and worn and leave several gaping holes for you to slip through and into his mind.

What you’re doing isn’t possession. That’s not in your repertoire.

In his dream, you take the form of Mark’s desire. You form the dream into what you require, setting up the scene as being back in his office, that desk between him and you, the future-divorcée’s file open on the desk.

Mark doesn’t notice a thing, he just slips right from his normal dreams into this one, picking up his lines without a skip.

“....and pray to the Lord. You and Alex can get through this. Counseling and prayer works miracles.” Mark says, and just as he’d done earlier in the day, he reaches across the desk and takes the hand sitting there atop the file.

Unlike earlier though, you’re in control of this dream. You’d felt Mark’s mind buzzing when his hand came in contact with the hand of his secret desire, so you turn that to your benefit now, making your first changes.

“I know it’s wrong,” you say in the voice of the divorcee, “But sometimes I think there’s no use saving the marriage. Alex feels one way about it, and I can understand that. Alex could fall in love with someone else and be happier and I want that for my spouse, of course I do. And if I could fall in love too....” Your look up at Mark sitting across from you, his hand still on yours, and the look on your face is one that you put as much want and lust into as you can.

Mark gulps. His fingers twitch against your hand. “Sometimes people fall in love with someone else. A peaceful resolution to a marriage, the dissolvement, annulment.... that can happen and both parties can remarry happily.”

He’s trying so hard, the poor thing. One look into his eyes and you can see the nervousness and excitement, the way his mind is rushing at this news that the person sitting before him might want to look for new love.

“Sometimes the person that we’re meant to be with is actually right in front of us.” You say.

Mark nods, swallows again. You test the waters, stroke your thumb over the back of his hand.

He jolts in his seat and stands, rubbing a hand over the top of his head as he paces over to a water disperser in the corner of the office, and he fills a small paper cup for himself, gulps it down. And you take this as your next opportunity to try to twist this dream to your advantage.

“Father Lee,” you step closer and closer, coming up right behind him.

His hand shakes as he fills the cup again, but before he can quite lift it to his lips, you curl your hand against his, and take the cup, bringing it to your lips and draining it while you look at him. He watches with his lips parted, eyes wide. Mark drinks too—drinks in every detail of you wearing his desire’s face and putting your lips where his had just been. You can hear his adorable thoughts—the innocent rush he gets from thinking that’s like an indirect kiss.

Things are moving too slow now, you can tell that even in a dream, even when you’re offering everything up for him to make the move, Mark won’t take the opportunity. He’s trying too hard to hold back, and you just want to seduce him.

So you push things ahead just a little bit, rearrange the dream to your liking, which is you sitting on the edge of the desk, leaning back on your hands with Mark’s hands on you. He’s got one hand tangled in your hair, the other on your waist, and the overwhelming sexual frustration you taste on his tongue as he kisses you is so fucking sweet.

Mark murmurs your name.

Well, not your name. But the name that belongs with this face. You press closer, kissing him back to make him shut up, to keep him distracted and enchanted by the lust of the dream.

But perhaps doing that pushes it too far.

Mark breaks away, gasping, “No, wait. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Irritation flashes through you, and for a split second your true self shines through.

Mark’s eyes widen and he gasps, the whole dream fluctuates, shaking and tipping to the side, and then you’re ripped back to reality, just a monstrous succubi hiding in the space beneath his bed.

You hold still as Mark staggers to his feet. Bare feet brush across the floor, and you hear him slapping his face, pinching at his inner arms, and then you hear him murmuring prayers again.

“Father, I’m sorry for my sins. Please forgive me.” and “Father purge these demons from my mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself under his bed and smile. You don’t plan to go anywhere.

Several more days pass and you let Mark be. You even return to Hell for a few days to update your supervisor on your progress, and while it’s not as much as you’d like, they are impressed with your target.

By the time you return to watch Mark again, he seems to have calmed down a bit from that naughty dream you’d given him. You return just in time for him to say his nighttime prayers, and once more you wait for him to fall asleep before you enter his space.

You bring yourself physically into the space—at first incorporeal, but then you manifest a tangible shape that you personally admire for all of your earthly adventures, and you settle in to do your work for the night.

Even with a real body, you’re still light as a breath of wind, so when you climb onto the bed and settle over Mark’s chest, he doesn’t stir. Nor does he do anything as you step into his dreams.

This time you observe the dreams for a moment.

You seem to be in a memory. Mark’s brother and himself when they were younger, riding bikes down a street that fades off into white nothingness at the edges, not that either of the two boys seem aware. The dream shifts naturally from that bike-ride to sitting in a car, the windows rolled down, a night breeze filling the interior and raking its fingers through Mark’s hair. There’s a girl sitting in the seat beside him, talking and smiling and dressed cute with a milkshake in one hand that she pauses her story every now-and-then to take a sip at. A girlfriend or a first love. When she reaches over and lays a casual hand on Mark’s thigh, he jumps a little. It’s close enough to what you need, so you grasp onto it and take control of the dream like you’re the one driving a car.

You wear the dream-girl’s face as easily as you’d worn the one in the last dream. You move her hand higher up his thigh.

Mark turns his head to the side with a sharp inhale, staring at you. And then you realize, startling even yourself, that he’s actually staring at you.

The dream ripples and you can feel it pulling away from you, Mark resisting your attempt to control the dream.

“Who are you?” His voice asks, but the Mark in the dream before you doesn’t move his mouth. The voice echoes and booms from all around you.

Abort. Fleeing a dream, tearing yourself from the web of his mind, abandoning your victim in a situation like this seems like the absolute most perfect idea.

But tragically, it seems impossible.

The dream closes in around you, squeezing tight as if holding you there. You grapple with Mark’s mind, and then suddenly the dream releases, Mark gasps awake, trying hard to suck in breaths against the new weight of you sitting on his chest, a succubi filled with the lust and dream-energy you’d been siphoning from him.

Before you can truly flee, dissolving back to your incorporeal form and slipping out into the free night, Mark’s hand closes around your wrist, and with a strength and agility you didn’t expect, he flips you under him, pinning your form to his bed. Trapping you between his warm body and the firm mattress.

“Who are you?” Mark hisses.

You let your true eyes shine through, hoping that the dimly glowing sulphuric color of them will frighten him into letting you go.

Instead, he reaches into his shirt and draws out a cross on a silver chain. You flinch back into the sheets as Mark asks the same question again.

“I’m here to help you.” You turn your gaze away from the cross, locking your eyes on his. “You’re so loud with your lustful thoughts, and I’m here to help you feel better, to tame your lusty sins.” You buck your hips up, pressing up against his hips.

Mark swallows hard. “I don’t know what you are or what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, so you don’t want to fuck that sexy, soon-to-be singleton you were dreaming about the other night?” You bring your hands up both of his arms until your fingertips are under the sleeves against his biceps. “Oh, Father Lee, don’t you know how sinful that is? What would your fellow priests think? What must He think?”

Mark’s jaw tightens, and he brings the cross closer to your skin. Your body tingles and burns.

“Let me up.” You tell him. He doesn’t budge. “I swear to all things evil, let me up or I’ll scream and moan, transform to look like your secret desire so when your Brothers came running in here all they’ll know is I’m moaning your name, and you’re....”

Mark moves.

“Demon.” He spits the word at you like an insult.

You sit up, fixing your hair, and you wink in his direction. “You got it.”

“Get out.”

“Hey.” You stand, raising your hands innocently. “You’re the one that summoned me here. I’m a succubus, and the amount of sexual frustration radiating off of you was too delicious to pass up.” You lean in and sniff at his neck, just to take the opportunity to make him uncomfortable because he’s cute like that. “I just want to help, to show you that you can still feel good, Mark. And anyway, is it breaking your vows if I was just trying to entice you in your dreams? It’s not real is it?”

Mark shakes his head, taking an unsteady step backwards. “Even thoughts are sins.”

You roll your eyes and sink back down onto the edge of his bed. “That’s such a modern misconception. Back in the early days of your faith, people weren’t quite so... prudish. They had sex, some even saw it as praising Him, thanking him for the goodness of it all. Some people still do, why do you think people scream His name during the throes of ecstasy?”

Mark blushes. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m just trying to help.” You reply, leaning back on your hands and looking up at him. “You’re horny, I can feel that. You’re channeling all of your lust toward one unattainable person because they’re married, Mark. Not to mention, they call you Father Lee, which is very unsexy, might I add. But if you would just give in to your dreams, have a hot little dream of making out, getting down and dirty in your office, then that would give you a bit of satisfaction, right? Have a wet dream like you haven’t since you were a teenager? Or at the worst, wake up with a boner, take care of it yourself. You do jerk off still, don’t you, Father Lee?”

Mark frowns at you. “Shut up.”

“Is that a no?” You gasp, sitting up. “Seriously? But you’re still so young, you’ve got all of these hormones, this energy that you need to release. Even if you feel you can’t release it with someone else, do it yourself.”

Mark turns completely away from you then, but you can still see him reflected in the mirror across the room. “Get out.”

His tone is so dour, dark and serious, that you do get out. You flee into incorporeality, still able to observe the look on Mark’s face when he turns around a second later and sees you’re gone, can still see the shape of where you’d say on his bed. He runs his fingers through his hair, and then begins to whisper prayers to his God for forgiveness for his weakness.

You let a few more days pass before you return, scared that coming back too soon would cause too much damage. But several days, you think, gives him time to think more about what you’ve said. You do watch him though, you watch closer than you’d done before, and you see Mark clumsily try to touch himself, as if thinking about what you’d said, but he always pulls his hand away after a moment with a groan of frustration.

On the fifth night since you’d last appeared to him, Mark lingers in his office at the church, pouring over papers, notes from meetings, notices from the parish school. In the yellow half-light cast off by his desk lamp, Mark looks so much older and more tired than anyone should look at twenty-five.

“You need to do something to relax,” you tell him as you manifest right behind his seat, already rubbing at his tense shoulders.

Mark spins his chair around so quickly, he nearly falls out of it. His pupils expand with fear, his chest rising and falling with the surprised, panicked breaths you’d startled out of him.

“How are you in here?” He asks, his eyes darting around the room to the closed door and the latched windows. You know he’s thinking about how the doors of the church are locked (because he’d checked them earlier after the last service for the evening), and then you can see the switch flip in his mind as he starts thinking about how you’re a self-confessed demon currently standing on holy ground. “How are you here?”

You shrug and step around him, sitting on the edge of his desk and plucking a paper from the middle of one of the piles. “It’s easy to be here. I just feel all tingly in all the good places.” You wink at him.

Mark groans and punches the bridge of his nose. “Am I going crazy? Is that what this is? You’re a manifestation of my mental breakdown?”

“Absolutely not,” you laugh. “I’m real. See?”

You take his hand from his face and bring it down between your thighs, close enough that Mark can feel the heat radiating off your skin, but before you can actually make him touch any part of your body, Mark jerks his hand away. You sigh sadly and return your focus to the paper in your hand.

“So, marriage counseling going well for the unhappy couple?” You scan the document which is notes Mark had taken during the counseling session for his crush. “From the looks of it they have issues. The unresolvable kind. Alex just won’t put out, and your sweetheart has needs, huh? But you know all about that, don’t you, Mark?”

Mark snatches the paper out of your hands. “That’s a confidential document.”

You hold out your hand, and right before Mark’s eyes another page from his desk appears in your hand, and this time you read aloud. “When we first got married, we would have sex regularly. At least once a week, usually more.” You raise your eyes to look at Mark. He’s trying so hard not to blush; you wonder how he got through the session. The next few lines of the message are more whining about the current lack of a sex life, and then it’s gets into the sordid, juicy details that you feel certain Mark had struggled to copy down, but had done so for the specific intent of reliving the rush he felt hearing about the sex life of someone he desires.

So naturally you read that part aloud to him as well, and Mark just squirms in his seat. You look up at him and see that he’s definitely blushing, his hands folded as he stares down at them with such a forceful look of concentration, that you’re surprised they’ve not burst into flames. He’s so determined to ignore you, you can hear the prayers racing through his mind.

But when you toe off your shoes and bring a foot up into his lap, you’re amused to find a raging erection hiding there. Mark shudders as the sole of your foot caresses him. His hands untwist, and one moves to your calf, curling around it, but he doesn’t push you away. Not as you keep moving your foot over him like this. His eyelids flutter.

You don’t dare speak, just let the silence hang in the room as you rub Mark’s erection with your foot, his hand on your calf, the other clenching into a fist on the arm of his chair. His lips part, small sweet-sounding sighs falling free. His eyes close, head dropped back against the headrest of his fine leather seat, and his hips shift beneath your foot.

He looks beautiful like this, you think.

Half-lit by his lamp, blushing and glowing with list and finally-felt pleasure. Your body tingles with your own pleasure, the success of doing this.

Mark’s teeth catch his bottom lip, trapping a grunt within his lips. You press your toes to circle them at the tip of his erection, and Mark’s hips lift up, chasing the feeling, grinding against your foot. He sighs, soft moans and pretty sounds, and then at last, he whispers “oh God” and then shudders and slumps back in the chair.

You feel the wet heat beneath your heel, Mark’s cum filling his trousers.

Satisfied, you vanish before he can open his eyes.

You return the following night. This time Mark is in his room at the rectory, sitting up in bed. His eyes are closed as he leans against the wall, his bedsheets pooled in his lap, his hand resting there. He’s not touching himself, but you can tell that he’s challenging himself not to. He’s hard again, and the moment you present in the room, his eyes open as if he could feel the change in the air.

“Demon,” his eyes narrow. “What did you do to me last night?”

“Why? Did it feel good?” You smile. You don’t walk straight to his bed, though you know you’ll end up there. You walk to the closet, run your fingers over the hangers, you skim your fingers through the dust gathering on the books lining the shelf on his wall.

When Mark clears his throat, it’s then that you finally look at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because you need me.” You nod at his lap, wave your hand in a long gesture at his whole body. “I��m telling you, Mark, the energy coming off of you, it’s a wonder you don’t draw every succubus in Hell to come seduce you, drinking up all this juice you’ve got, I’ve never been so full.”

Mark’s eyes flash darkly, his eyes stuck on your face. “Well you had your fill last night right? I can’t believe.... I’ve prayed to the Lord for forgiveness so many times since last night I went to confession earlier today.”

“Oh did you?” A burst of excitement goes through you, and you hurry to sit on his bed, taking up his hand. “What did you tell them about me?”

Mark shakes your hand off. “I didn’t mention you. Why would I? They’d either think I’m losing my mind, which I’m still not convinced that I’m not, or they’d think that I’m just breaking my vows and having sex with someone. I just confessed that I lost my battle against lust and took care of myself.”

You tut at him disapprovingly, shaking your head as you say, “Lying in confession? Isn’t that an oxymoron? And a sin?”

Mark’s hands clench at the sheets. “I wasn’t lying really. Not if I believe that you’re a figment of my cracking mind.”

You smirk, and when you lean closer and lay a fingertip on Mark’s cheek, tracing along his cheekbone and then dropping to outline his lips, you whisper, “And do you believe that? Truly? That I’m just a figment of your imagination?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Mark whispers hoarsely. “I don’t know if it’s better to think I’m doing this to myself or that there’s a demon taunting me.”

“Maybe I’m actually an angel in disguise, sent in answer to your prayers.” You shift onto your knees, and lean close to Mark’s face. You hold just an inch away from his lips. He goes almost cross-eyed trying to keep looking at you. “In which case, you should take advantage of this opportunity, no? Let me help you, enjoy it.”

Mark pulls his head back, closing his eyes tight as he drops his head back gently against the wall. “This is a sin. I’m a priest, I can’t be doing this.”

You roll your eyes and move.

Mark peers curiously, and almost fearfully, through a cracked eyelid when he feels your weight leave the bed. But a split second later you’ce settled completely in his lap. He goes stiff, murmuring prayers under his breath as well as something that sounds suspiciously like some sort of chant to banish you.

You stay firmly in your spot. “Why did you become a priest, Mark?”

Your question catches him off guard. His prayers cut off and he opens his eyes, looking directly at you. “What? Because I was called. I heard His voice calling me.”

“When?”

“The first time I was young. Fifteen, I think.” He looks up at the ceiling, remembering. “Again when I was eighteen. I entered the seminary at nineteen, studied until I was twenty three, when I became a deacon, and then I was ordained earlier this year. At twenty five.”

You shift your weight. “And you never doubted it? That this was what you wanted to do? That you wanted to swear yourself to celibacy? Never have sex, never allow yourself to experience pleasure? Tell me, Mark, are you a virgin?”

Mark’s blush returns, flooding his face with heat. “Why do you care?”

“Have you ever been touched by another person?” He stays silent, and you think about what you’ve observed in him. You think about him clumsily touching himself before giving up, about how easily he’d fallen apart under your touch the night before. “Have you ever touched yourself, Mark?”

You can feel how hard his heart pounds now, and in each loud beat you hear your answer.

“Cute. Little virginal priest.” You put your hands on either of his cheeks, turning his face so he has no choice but to look right at you. “Was last night your first orgasm?”

Mark breathes through his nose, holding your gaze, trying to steady his racing heart and mind. “Can you stop.”

“But aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to feel it again?” You drop your hands from his face. “I can give that to you again. I can make you feel even better, actually. If you let me, Mark, I can open up a whole new world to you.”

When his eyes close you can tell that he’s thinking about how to banish you, to send you back to hell. You find that very attractive, particularly when a muscle in his jaw flexes.

“Mark,” you whisper, and you lift a gentle hand to his neck, tracing a finger along a vein that stands out there. “Mark, what if I’m just a figment of your imagination? It’s not wrong then, is it? To want to feel good like you did last night? I can give that to you again, I can make you feel better. Just tell me yes.”

The silence buzzes in the room as you wait for him to speak or do anything.

“Yes,” Mark’s voice comes out shaky, hoarse. “Yes, okay. Just one more time.”

You move before he can decide to change his mind. Mark just takes steadying breaths as you sink down the bed, slipping beneath the covers, fitting between his thighs. He holds his breath when you tug down the waistband of the plaid flannel pants he’s wearing, when you touch his bare erection with your fingers, the tip of your tongue, your lips closing around him.

You’re not sure that he breathes until swallow around him, pushing to take more of his cock down your throat. Your body buzzes with the heat coming off of him, the energizing power of making him feel good.

Mark doesn’t touch you. He clenches his fingers in the bedsheets on either side of his hips as you give him his very first blowjob. You can’t help looking up at him as you do this; watching every look of pleasure and satisfaction cross his face, unrestrained. And when he moans, they’re soft moans, always conscious that you’re not alone together in this house of holy men, that there’s another priest just two doors down, an empty bathroom in between.

You keep sucking him off, taking him as deep into your mouth as you can when he blows his load for the first time.

Mark bites his knuckles to keep quiet. You pull off his erection, keeping your fingers on him, playing with him as he shudders through the last waves of pleasure.

“Look at that, would you? Felt good? How could that be a bad thing?” You drop a tender kiss to his tip, and then sit up, feeling very satisfied in yourself. “Do you want more?”

“More? No. I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t.” He put his hands over his face, pinching at his nose. “Shit. What am I doing? You need to leave.”

You look at him with his face covered, his body on display to your eyes. “Well, if you want more, I’m sure you can look up a summoning ritual for me in one of your holy books, Father Mark. Call me.”

You stand up, and it’s not like you’re going to leave by the door, or anything, but you turn to look around his room one last time. You’re done here. You seduced the priest, drank energy from him, there’s nothing more to be done. You’ve enjoyed your first time, but you’re not going to do the full succubus job to this man, you’ve enjoyed him too much. You won’t drain him and leave him sick. You just hope you opened his eyes.

“Wait.” The young priest grabs your arm before you have the chance to disappear. “How do you expect me to summon you if I don’t know your name?” He says it lightly, almost joking, as if he’s still not sure that he can really take this seriously, this whole you being a seductive demon thing. But the look in his eyes is hopeful.

With a light touch to his chin, you lean in, and whisper your name in his ear.

Months pass in mortal time. You move on from the young priest, seducing many men and some women, draining a few of them dry until they’re just shells of their former selves. You’re currently seducing a wannabe actor, literally sitting on his dick, when you feel a tug inside you. It’s a strange feeling, nothing you’ve felt before, and it’s not pleasant at all.

You push at the man’s chest, the unpleasant feeling spreading through you. “I’ve got to go,” you tell him, and then you turn and vanish, following the strange feeling.

You find yourself in a strange room, a small bedroom.

“So you really never came back to me.” A voice says from behind you.

You spin around, noticing all at once the candles, and then right before you--

“Forgive me, Father. I thought you didn’t want more from me.” You reach out to Mark, standing right here before him for the first time in so long. You missed him. You missed teasing him.

“I didn’t expect you really wouldn’t come back.” Mark stands there just out of reach, his arms folded across his chest. And he looks so good, so handsome in a black button-down shirt and gray pressed slacks. But he’s barefoot and his hair is messy, adding a toned-down casual level to his attractiveness. He clears his throat and you look back up to his face as he says, “I had to make do without you around, you know.”

That piques your interest. “Oh? Did you finally learn to jerk off? Have you been touching yourself? Here in the priest house?”

Mark shakes his head. “Look around, does this look like my room there?”

No, actually. It doesn’t at all. And a quick look out the window shows that you’re in somewhere completely different.

“I left the priesthood,” Mark explains. “What you said, what you did to me, I realized that the priesthood wasn’t what was the best choice for me. I can still serve the Lord in other ways, other ways that will allow me to explore the side of me that you awakened.” And now Mark steps closer to you. At last, he reaches for your face, slipping his fingers into your hair. You practically purr at the contact with him. “I’ve been busy since you left me.”

“Oh?” You lean into his touch. “From priest to manwhore in just a few passes of the moon.”

Mark nods. “I tried to stay on that path for a little while, but I just couldn’t. I craved more, that same feeling you gave me.” He nibbles his bottom lip nervously for a second before admitting, “I actually slept with a woman before I decided to give up on the priesthood. I prayed for forgiveness afterwards, but it just felt like I fucked up too much on that one, so I decided to leave. I moved away, started over, slept around, but none of them touched me the way that you did. Nothing feels better than you.”

You shrug. “It’s part of the job description really. I’m a seductress. You think I’m not going to be the best you’ve ever had? Is that why you summoned me, you want more at last?”

“Demon, I want to make you a deal.” Mark caresses your cheek. “I am a man of faith, and you’ve steered me down some side path that I had absolutely no intention of going down. In the past, I didn’t know what to do with you, but I wanted you. Now, I still want you, but I know what I’m doing. I know about you. I did research about your kind while I was looking up how to summon you again. I want to make a deal.”

“A deal?” You pull back from him, breaking all contact. “Mark, what the hell. Don’t you know what making a deal with a demon means?”

He cuts you off with a shake of his head, dismissive. “I don’t care. I know the risk, but, fuck, I swear you got me addicted to you. Just a few hits, and I crave you.”

“Why would you want to make a deal with me? A binding pact?” You push at his chest and Mark takes a step back to balance. “Are you fucking stupid? You think I want your soul, Mark Lee? You had a good soul, a pure one. That’s why I left you and never looked back! Some things are too good starting out, and tarnishing them with my hands....” You look down at your hands, and you can see through the glamor you wear, down to your real form the ashen hell-burnt flesh.

Mark’s watching you when you look up at him. But he doesn’t look afraid, doesn’t look sad or sorry.

His eyes still burn with need.

“I don’t want your soul,” you tell him, “So I don’t want a deal.”

Mark takes another step back from you. “But I want you. So take the damned deal. Fuck me.”

“And what do you get out of it? You won’t get fame or fortune or health from this deal. You literally just get to fuck a demon until you die, so no, that’s not good enough.” If you were human you’d be sick to your stomach right now. What Mark’s offering you, if he were anyone else you would take the deal, but Mark Lee was a good man when you met him; he was cute and innocent, a pure soul that you wanted to protect so you left for his own good. You couldn’t make him pay the price of being with you.

No, Mark shakes his head in denial and desperation. He comes close to you again, standing just an inch away from you, close enough that both of you can feel each other, but not close enough that any part of you is actually touching.

“Just touch me, please.” Mark pleads. “I miss your touch. The way you made me feel, I’ve been chasing that high for months, and nothing compares. Please.”

You want to touch him. You really, really do.

With a groan of frustration, you cup Mark’s face in your hands. “I’m going to be the death of you,” you tell him in the moment before your lips meet his.

The kiss is absolutely intoxicating. Mark moans and wraps around you, moving backwards toward his bed, limbs tangling together as you both collapse onto his sheets. You pin him beneath you, kissing the air from his lungs, your fingers sliding down the front of his shirt, buttons falling open just at your touch. And when your fingertips move a bit lower, grazing the front of his pants, you find that he’s devastatingly hard.

He rolls his hips up against your hand, groaning into the kiss, whimpering delightfully when you squeeze his erection.

You sit up on him, and Mark follows, needy for your kiss. His mouth crashes against yours, sharp and hot. You push his shirt off his shoulders, and you let him roll you under him, your body nestled into his sheets as Mark unbuttons his fancy slacks, pushing them down enough that you can see his cock pop out.

You grab onto the edges of his pants, dragging him forward up your body, and you all but throw your mouth onto his cock.

Much like the last time, Mark seems caught off guard by the way you make him feel. He moans loudly, fingers knotting in your hair. But unlike the last time, he quickly recovers, seems to know what to do to get exactly what he wants, using his hands in your hair to direct your mouth.

When you can see it in his face that he’s enjoying this a bit too much, you pull off, using your hand on him instead, looking up at him as you jerk him off over your chest.

“Mmm, fuck,” Mark moans, a hand running over his chest and down his abs. “No one makes me feel this good. Not with anything they’ve done to me.” He thrusts forward into your hand. “I need to feel you around me.”

You nod. You want it too. You’re ready for him, and he’s clearly more than ready for you. Mark quickly disposes of his pants, climbing back on the bed, sinking in to kiss you again, and you fall into the kiss, more intoxicating than anything you’ve ever felt. With a hand to his chest, you press Mark onto his back, and you climb over him, straddling his thighs.

You don’t break the kiss, just reach down as you move forward to situate yourself over him. Teasing the head of his erection against your wet, dripping entrance, Mark whines, shifting his hips up eagerly. “Patience,” you murmur, and you leave his lips behind to kiss down his throat, down the center of his chest, and you glance up at him as you allow his tip to slide inside you just as you circle your tongue on one of his nipples.

He bucks up, wanting to bury himself inside you, but you’ve already pulled away again.

“Thought you said you’d know what to do now?” You ask, flicking your tongue over his pebbled nipple. “When are you going to prove that? Because from where I’m sitting--” you sit upright, right down on him so his erection is trapped between his abdomen and your wet heat, “--you’re still the innocent boy who doesn’t now how to fuck me.”

You’re not entirely sure how he does it, flipping from submissive boy trapped beneath you to you suddenly being on your back with Mark’s mouth ravaging your throat, and his cock rutting between your legs, still not inside you, but now it’s you who groans at the tease. His erection glides over your clit, and each time you feel a zip of pleasure.

You grip at his arms, fingers digging into muscle, and then Mark’s cock slips and on the next thrust, he fucks right into you.

Both of you moan as he sinks inside you, his teeth catch at your throat, instantly soothed again by his lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mark mumbles the words against your skin. “You’re so soft, warm. Heavenly.” He buries his face in your neck, his entire body presses against yours--chest and hip, legs tangled together as he shallowly fucks into you while sucking at your throat.

This is intimate and strange and fascinating and fantastic. Your usual partners are just quick fucks that you feed off of their sexual energy and then you leave. It’s not intimate at all, no matter how many times you’d fucked them, there was no intimacy--rarely were attempts made by them, and never by you--but here you can’t get enough of this. You just want Mark closer until you can’t feel where your form ends and Mark begins.

Your fingernails scrape the back of his neck, twisting in his hair as you bring his busy lips from your throat to your lips, needing to satiate the hunger.

This is pure lust, addiction to him and his addiction to you.

You’re not even feeding off the sexual energy of this intercourse, just existing in the moment for the carnality of it all.

Mark’s thrusts grow bigger, deeper, more powerful, and you wrestle with him, letting him stay on top until suddenly you want him beneath you. You want to fuck him, to ride him, and that lasts for a bit until you’re on your belly pressed into the bed, Mark thrusting into you from behind with his lips against your cheek as he murmurs praises. There’s teeth and nails, Mark’s hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. He shivers in delight when you press him again beneath you, circling your hips on his cock, tracing your fingers over the raised pink lines from your nails down his chest.

He looks high, his pupils wide, his skin flushed, and he’s alive with a glowing energy that calls out to you, begging you to drink it in. But you don’t want that here. You just want this, to feel a part of this, to make him feel the best you can because experiencing sex like this with Mark where you’re not using your demon powers feels absolutely insane, makes you feel even better than when you do answer that call, and drink off the energy of your partner.

His hand snaps against your ass, and you realize you’ve just been sitting there, gazing down at him in admiration. “Move, baby.” And he does it again.

“Fuck, Mark. Do you go to confession and tell the priest that you dream about getting fucked by a demon like this?” You roll your hips, sinking forward until your lips are beside his ear. “Do you confess your sins. Forgive me, Father, but I let a demon into my life. She fucked me so good I stopped being a priest because her pussy is worth it.”

Mark moans.

“Forgive me, Father, but when I was a priest, she made me cum for her in the Church, on holy ground.” You squeeze around his cock, and he lets out a beautiful sound. “Mmm, forgive me, Mark, but I think no amount of confession will make up for sinning like this, loving every single thing we’re doing right now.”

“Holy--!” Mark’s voice cuts off as you sit up, curling your delicate fingers around his throat. His eyes roll back from the pleasure, and you just smile down at him, applying pressure to his throat and circling your other thumb around his nipple. He blinks and looks up at you, his mouth hanging open in soundless awe and appreciation, his eyes glowing with lust and something else. You just want to make him feel good.

You press forward, unable to hold back, needing to feel his lips on yours as you ride him, as you feel that pleasure seeping through your body, a warm silvery-golden glow as your toes curl and your body goes warm and light and fuzzy.

Mark’s hands are on you -- on your hips and your hands and in your hair and on your thighs, touching you all over, pressing you down as he bucks up into you, and then he’s cumming and it feels so good too, better than when the others have done it.

You keep kissing him, rolling your hips down on him, wanting to keep this feeling going. It’s one you’ve never truly felt before.

But eventually it must end, and you roll off to the side, and Mark follows, not wanting to let you get too far. He tucks his face against your neck, breath hot and damp on your skin, and his thigh slips comfortably between yours. You feel sticky and sweaty all over in places you didn’t know you could be sweaty, and you feel like you need to catch your breath.

Mark drops a singular tiny kiss to the center of your chest, and then he pulls back, his head resting on one side of the pillow, yours on the other, only a few bare inches between the tips of your noses. You’ve never been this close to a human before (on multiple levels) and you don’t pull back.

“I made a deal with a demon,” Mark whispers, and he uses a finger to brush back a section of sweaty hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Or at least, I meant to. Don’t leave me.”

“Mark, I won’t kill you.” You tell him, absolutely refusing to let this go where he seems to carelessly want it to go.

His fingers tighten in your hair. “Then give it up. I want you. All the time. And it’s not just because you’re a succubus. I know that’s part of the enchantment, I completely understand that, but I know in a deeper place in my heart that I crave you in a way that’s separate from your crazy, mystical demon powers, okay? Give it up.”

You stare into his eyes, his wide and innocent and hopeful eyes. You want to do it for him. You want to give Mark whatever he asks for. But... “I can’t. This is who I am, I can’t just give up being a succubus. It’s what I was brought into existence to be.”

Mark shakes his head. “I refuse to believe that. You’re a demon, but what are demons except fallen angels.” His thumb strokes over your cheek. “And I see an angel when I look at you.”

You roll your eyes and push his hand away. You sit up, ready to leave his bed, to flee into the unknown from him. But Mark’s fingers circle tightly around your wrist.

“I know how to summon you, I’ll just bring you back,” he says.

“And if I asked you not to?” You flex your wrist, testing his hold. “If I told you that I truly wanted you to leave me alone. What then?”

Mark’s hand falls away and he closes his eyes, turning onto his back to face the ceiling. “I would leave you alone. I would wish I could have convinced you to stay. Because I can see that you want to be here as much as I want you to stay.” He opens his eyes, looking right at you. “You gave me your name before you left, you opened this path for me to find you again, so you must have wanted me to, right?”

Right.

“So stay. I’m a theological man, and I’ve done my research into demonology and the supernatural, into good and evil. You think you’re just a demon, but I think you’re an angel, and somewhere in between where you stand and where I stand is a happy medium, a place where you and I can have this--” he gestures between your two bare bodies in his bed “--without you being afraid of destroying my soul.”

This is absolutely ridiculous.

You want it more than you can explain.

“Make a deal with me, demon.” Mark says, taking your hand in his, guiding it to his chest. He presses your palm flat over his heartbeat. “Stay with me, and I’ll help you become the angel that I know you are.”

This story began with a demon set on destroying her sexual victims and with a priest certain of his fate as a celibate holy man, and now you’re here. Both of you have already come so far from where you began.

You take Mark’s hand, guiding it so his palm lays over where your heart would be.

“The deal is true.” You tell him, and Mark gazes into your eyes as he repeats those words back to you, and just like that a bond is formed, a pact made, and you sink down against him, pressing your cheek to his chest as his arms wrap around you.

And this time you stay.

a/n: oops, I knew as soon as I first read this message that it was probably going to end up as a drabble, but damn I didn’t think I’d make it this long lol

If you liked it please reblog, like, comment. If you’re into the corruption of religious figures thing, definitely also check out Righteous a 5-part series by the wonderful @skzctnightnight​ it’s not got demons but it does have seminarian student Mark being tempted by the reader and it’s very hot and good

#mark smut #mark lee #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut

[dabifixation]

the importance of knocking

dabi x fem!reader

summary: When Dabi told you to wait at the bar because he was going to "Take care of things" you shouldn't have humored him. You shouldn't have gotten drunk on a mission. And most of all you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling by looking for the blue flame user and discovering exactly what he meant by taking care of things.

warnings: nsfw, smut, voyeurism, unprotected sex, squirting, MINORS DNI

word count: 2.4k

~

You really didn't like villains. They were temperamental bigots who were hard to work with and cared very little about their environment.

Blue eyed, flame wielding, two-toned nuisances were not the exception to this.

If anything, having Dabi tag along on your mission didn't really help with your dwindling impression of the man.

Said mission was going downhill very fast, losing your chance to achieve funds from your organization's formidable benefactors, all because somebody thought it was funny to set Mr Park's hair on fire after the man passed a comment on somebody's unprofessional attire.

You hated him for that. Truly hated him. However you knew he wasn't just messing up your mission for his own amusement. You weren't stupid, you knew a field test when you saw one. This mission was set up to see how well you'd do now that the Meta Liberation Army was under siege from the League of Villains. Dabi was your examiner.

And you failed the test.

So it came as a surprise to you when the bane of your existence suggested that he'd take care of things, which made you wonder if he was a comedian in his past life cause what could he possibly do to fix things.

You spent the next hour by yourself with an endless supply of whisky in hopes of coming up with a good plan in order to leave Japan undetected.

When the next hour passed by you began to wonder where your flame wielding partner went and how long he'd be. You were convinced that he was just hunting down one of the benefactor's and stole their suitcase filled with money. But you doubt killing someone took a full two hours, so you began to worry.

Not for him of course. That would be out of character for you. You were just worried about disappointing Shigaraki by coming empty handed and not on time. At the end of the day, you were a sucker for praise and didn't mind getting it from someone who ruined the goals and reputation of the Meta Liberation Army.

You had a serious problem.

Checking your wristwatch one last time, you decided now was a good time to phone Dabi. Snickering to yourself when you saw his contact was saved under 'If Menstruational Pain Was A Person'. You clicked on his contact, hoping he wouldn't be those annoying people who answered after the fifth ring on purpose.

He wasn't.

"Whoever this is, it better be important. I'm in the middle of something." He sounded slightly out of breath, and from the soft rustling of something in the background you could tell he wasn't in any danger. It made you sigh in relief.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Oh it's you. Miss me already?" You didn't need to see him smirking on the other end, cause you knew he was.

You ignored his question, "Where are you?"

There was pause that lasted long enough for you to hear a muffled cry in the background and an unknown squelching sound. You didn't take him for someone that tortured his victims.

You learn new things everyday.

"Room 3406." You heard a groan this time, making you frown. Why was he dragging his torture session out so long, the least he could do was put the poor person out of their misery and take their money.

Wait.

"You're still in the hotel. You damn asshole I thought you were dead in a ditch!" You raised your voice, not caring that people passing by gave you concerning looks.

"Didn't realize you cared so much about little old me." He let out a sound crossed between surprise and a laugh, which caught you off guard.

He hung up before you could give a response.

That was weird.

You looked down at your naked arms, noticing the goosebumps.

Yeah, very weird.

❦

It didn't take you long to find the hotel room, thanking your lucky stars when you found out the room was unlocked and didn't require a key card.

Once you entered the room, you glanced around noticing that nothing was out of place or broken. There was no signs of struggle, which was a good thing. It made cleaning up easier.

Your eyes landed on a pair of familiar boots placed adjacent to a pair of red bottom heels that were laying on its side.

You picked the heel up, examining it to see if there was any blood on it. There wasn't.

That's strange.

"Uhnnnggg~"

Your head snapped in the direction of the main bedroom when you heard the sounds of someone whimpering in pain. The warning bells in your head grew louder when you decided to check out what was going on.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar but not enough for you to see what was on the other side. You heard a deep groan as your fingers brushed the doorframe, your heart in your throat at what you'd find. So you pushed forward expecting everything but what was in front of you.

You didn't dare move.

There Dabi was, hands gripping tightly on some woman's hips. The muscle in his arms flexing, and his legs out stretched beneath her. Her hands were buried in his obsidian locks as he set the pace for her, bouncing her up and down his cock. Each time he brought her down, she'd let out a R-rated moan. She swiveled her hips as best as she could, but from the way her thighs trembled from the pleasure, you could tell it was too much for her.

Dabi's eyes were shut in bliss, letting out a breathy moan when she opted for grounding on his cock instead. From her quick movements, you could tell she was close.

"Yes, yes, yes –oh fuck!"

Dabi immediately flipped her over, preventing her from reaching her climax. His heavy cock slapped against his abdomen, smearing moisture against his defined stomach. You quickly looked away, focusing on the woman instead.

It immediately clicked in. You knew who she was.

Yui Murukami, the 34 year old heiress and CEO to the company that supplied our friends in capes with support items. She was a rich and powerful woman known throughout Japan, and one of the benefactor's that pulled out their sponsorship after finding out that the Meta Liberation Army was infiltrated with "heretics."

The same heretic that's narrow hips she currently had her long milky legs wrapped around.

What a hypocrite.

You got a good look at Dabi for the first time tonight. Your eyes traveled down his lean form. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for in flexibility. The position he was in was a testimony to that.

The subtle red hair trailing down towards his impressive length caught your attention. So he was a natural redhead? That or he had some weird hobby of dyeing his pubes.

It made you shudder.

He pumped at his veiny cock, gathering the pre-come dripping from the pink and angry head, and used it to lubricate himself further. The golden piercings keeping his two skin types together stretched as he did so.

You thanked whatever God was out there for Dabi not noticing you. They surely had your back. Now was the perfect time to escape. Dabi was clearly lost in the throes of pleasure. But just as you stepped back, the floor beneath your feet decided now was a good time to announce your presence.

Dabi's eyes immediately snapped open in your direction.

Those ocean blues stared at you intensely without a hint of shame. You were frozen in place as you held his heated gaze, eyes falling to his lips when his tongue jotted out to lick them. It had you entranced and you almost missed the way his lips broke out into a full grin when he knew exactly what position he had you in.

Hook, line and sinker.

He was taunting you, waiting on you to storm out of this room in embarrassment and anger. Dabi was a sick individual who'd take any and every opportunity to test you and your loyalty to the Paranormal Liberation Front. If you walked out now, despite how badly you really wanted to, that would be the same as failing. You weren't about to fail twice in one night.

He raised an eyebrow when you didn't barge at his challenge. Shrugging, he guided his cock back inside the woman with a soft sigh. He broke eye contact first, looking down at where their bodies joined and bottomed out into her. She let out a ridiculously high-pitched moan.

He kept her thighs far apart as he continued his ministrations despite knowing you were watching.

Your face was hot as you clenched your fists tightly.

Slapping and squelching sounds filled the room as their movements picked up. The air growing heavy with the smell of sex. Dabi was rutting into her in a way that had her breasts bouncing in a particular rhythm.

There was something so enticing about the way she pushed herself back onto him every time he gave short deep thrusts. She clawed at his chest, trying to push him away but he wasn't having it. Instead he drove into her faster and more ruthlessly as a warning.

This moment was too intimate and private, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away either.

It was intoxicating.

Suddenly a long keening sound left her lips, hands digging into the once pristine sheets, almost tearing them apart. Dabi hit a special spot inside of her that neither of you could see.

Heat rushed to your belly in an all too familiar feeling.

He continued hitting that spot, her body violently shaking and writhing. The way his hips were angled, it brushed against the little button at the top of her mound perfectly.

That was the last straw.

She came so hard, no doubt clamping tightly around his cock. Causing him to throw his head back in eye rolling pleasure with a deep throaty groan. His movements began to filter in order to prolong the feeling, but he quickly regained his composure and picked up where he left off. Triggering her into squirting all over his abdomen. Not once, twice but thrice.

His abdomen glistened with her juices and his added sweat. The way his hair fell into his eyes and clung to his neck had your heart skipping a beat.

"Does this make you feel good?" He asked her as his hips bucked up. Voice deep, too deep.

Fuck yes.

She responded in a tired moan.

"I could have you like this underneath me every night if you just–" he snapped his hips into hers to accentuate his point, "–begged nicely."

Jesus.

She continued to mewl, clawing into the sheets as she neared her second orgasm.

"All you got to —fuck— say is please and I'll be scratching every itch inside of you that those fingers can't reach." He toppled over her, dropping both hands on either side of the her head.

"Uh huh." She let out, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

"I don't like being ignored." He looked at you this time, making you jolt. One of his hands reached out to grip around her throat, making her gasp as he controlled her airway.

When she responded in a broken moan, he ignored her and kept his eyes focused on you instead. He narrowed his eyes, something dark flashing in them before he looked back down at her. A deep growl in his throat.

Oh.

He was talking to you the entire time.

You rubbed your thighs together to ease the aching between your legs.

It didn't go by unnoticed, as much as you hoped. Dabi gave you a look that made him seem so vulnerable at that moment. All his walls came crashing down and for once you could read his facial expression. He desperately wanted you to be the one underneath him.

"Touch yourself." He commanded, hips bucking in urgency.

He was close.

Yui was long forgotten as it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. You did as he said, ignoring the voice in your head that was calling you a 'fucking idiot.'

You unzipped your pants, enough to give him a view of the shape of your pussy and the increasing wet patch at the center of your lace panties. You pushed your hand into your pants, while the other bunched your shirt up. The moment your fingers brushed against your drenched folds through your panties, you closed your eyes and let out a silent moan. Everything felt hypersensitive. You didn't care that this wasn't enough to send you over the edge, all you cared about was imagining it was him touching you like this, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucked you into next week.

"Fuck." He let out after a long time of being silent. "Good girl, just like that–"

A loud groan ripped out of his throat before he could finish his rambling.

Not too long and the rhythm Dabi started with began to stutter when his hips bucked up irregularly. The woman underneath him putting on a whole performance but he continued to ignore her in favor of you.

He gave you a needy look as he gave one last sloppy thrust, waves of pleasure being sent to your pussy.

Dabi let out a moan that was so guttural and so deep as he came inside of her wishing it was you instead. He chased his high in quick juvenile thrusts, making sure every last drop was emptied inside of her.

His hips continued to twitch from his intense climax, a pained hiss leaving his lips. The oversensitivity finally catching up to him.

He gave her a slow open mouthed kiss after they regained their breaths. Pulling his softening cock out of her with a wet pop. He nuzzled his face into her neck, causing her to giggle and hug his form closer to hers. And he allowed it.

He looked back up at you, an indescribable look passing through his eyes. It was quickly gone as it had come, being replaced by a smirk and knowing wink that said everything you needed to know.

Bastard

Dabi was an incredible actor and you were just another one of his victims.

You left just as Dabi started getting hard again, obviously he could go for another round, a round you wanted no part in witnessing.

You weren't going to be used by him again in order for him to find a quick release. To hell with him and his twisted version of testing someone's loyalty. You felt utterly humiliated and dirty. All you wanted was to go back to the PLF hideout and crawl into your bed and forget this all happened.

How could you be so stupid. He had this all planned out from the start. No wonder he was so quick to help you when the mission started going downhill.

You hated him so much.

You wanted to scream when you realized he told you the room number on purpose despite being in the middle of that. He wanted you come up and catch him in the act, and that's why he had no problem in you watching him do those things to her. He wanted to see what you'd do in that situation. This was all one big joke to him.

Yet you couldn't understand why you were still so horny and soaking wet.

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki #touya x reader #dabi smut #dabi fanfiction #mha smut #dabi scenarios #dabi x you #bnha smut #unprotected sex #dabi is a little shit

[generallybrontidefeelings]

Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #reader insert #fanfiction #writing #the mentalist fanfiction #I took some liberties with UT's school of anthros forensics lab #it does exist #DO NOT LOOK UP PICTURES #IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DON'T DO IT #I AM NOT SQUEAMISH AND DO RESEARCH WITH CADAVERS #BUT IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DONT #DO #IT

[hannahshattuck]

Captain Firefighter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, slight graphic description of injury, car accident

Steve Rogers Masterlist Main Masterlist

BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP.

You groaned as you slapped your hand around the nightstand trying to find your phone with the alarm going off. When you finally found it, you grabbed it and opened one eye to turn it off. You checked the time and realized you should get up to make sure you weren’t late on your first day at your new job. With a groan, you slowly sat up and noticed you were naked and had a pounding headache.

“Great. Hungover on the first day.” You mumbled as you rubbed your temples.

A groan behind you caught your attention. “God. I’m not drinking ever again.” 

You looked over your shoulder and saw a blond man laying on his back rubbing his hands over his face. The blankets sat at his hips which put his built torso on display. His chest looked like a good place to rest your head and it seemed like his abs had abs. You quickly found your underwear on the floor and a navy blue tee shirt and put them on. You stood facing him and tried to smile even though it felt like a construction crew was in your skull. 

“Um, hi.” You said.

The man brought his hands from his face and laid them on his chest. “Hi.” 

The two of you awkwardly stared at each other and you hoped you were smiling more than grimacing. The man sat up, keeping the sheet covering him and stood looking for most likely his underwear. He found black boxer briefs and put them on without moving the sheet which was impressive to say the least. 

Once he got them on, he dropped the sheet on the bed and found what seemed to be his jeans. He pulled them on and looked up at you and chuckled.

“I need my shirt.” He smirked.

You looked down. “Oh..” You found one of your sweatshirts in your dresser, along with shorts, and started towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom. “I’m just gonna…” You trailed off pointing to the bathroom.

He smiled, “Alright.”

You ducked into the bathroom and quickly locked the door. “Oh god.” You whispered to yourself. You quickly changed out of his shirt and into your clothes. 

You left the bathroom and saw him sitting on the edge in your bed on his phone. You cleared your throat.

“Uh, here you go.” You held his shirt out to him. He stood up and it was then when you realized how tall he was. You were eye level with his chest and had to title your head up to look in his eyes that were a very bright blue.

He took his shirt and put it on without breaking eye contact. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” You hummed. 

“I don’t remember a lot from last night but I do know you said you start a new job today so good luck on that and I hope you don’t feel too bad today.” He bent down and kissed your cheek. You felt your face heat up.

“I-I’ll walk you out.” You walked out your bedroom and led the way to the front door of your apartment. The living wasn’t a mess so that told you the two of you went straight to your room. You unlocked the front door and opened it to let him out. “I, uh, hope you have a good day.”

He smiled before he walked out the door, “You too.”

You closed the door and leaned your forehead against the cool wood. “Fuck me.”

--------------------

You pulled up into an empty parking spot and grabbed your backpack with all your stuff once you parked. Looking towards the fire station, you saw both big garage doors open and saw your soon to be coworkers messing around or cleaning or working out. You swung your backpack over one shoulder and started walking toward the station. 

“Hey! It’s the newbie!” You turned your head in the direction of the voice and saw a dark skin man waving at you. “Hi! I’m Sam.” 

“Hi.” You waved back. 

“Wilson, keep mopping. It’s your fault there’s whip cream everywhere.” A red head woman said as she walked over to you. “Hi, I’m Natasha.” She held out her hand.

“Y/N.” You said, shaking her hand. “Do I want to know why he’s mopping up whip cream?” You chuckled. 

Natasha playful rolled her eyes, “In between last night calls the boys were pulling pranks.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Ah. That makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Natasha laughed. “They’re lucky it was our captain’s day off last night. Otherwise he would have laid into them and made them clean every nook and cranny of this place.”

“Is your captain here?” You fiddled with the strap of your backpack.

Natasha shook her head. “Not yet. He texted me earlier saying he was gonna be running late. Apparently had a good night if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully which caused you to chuckle. “Let’s get you settled before he arrives.”

She led you to the lockers, where you filled yours, and gave a quick run down of where everything is before leading you to the ambulance. You found out that Natasha is one of the paramedics they have and you two would be partners. 

“Okay, so here’s how everything is organized. We do share the ambulance with other shifts but we all got together and figured out where to put everything. If you figure out that a certain supply would be easier to grab in a different spot just send a quick text in the group chat we have for all the paramedics and EMTs. Oh! Speaking of which, let me get your number so I can add you.” Natasha pulled out her phone from her pocket and you gave her your number. “Most of the time we’re like a high school chat with the amount of memes we send.” 

You chuckled knowing exactly what she meant. She continued to show you around the ambulance and then started to introduce you to the other firefighters. You already met Sam when you walked in and he seemed to be done with mopping the whipped cream. Then met James Barnes; who goes by Bucky because there’s two named James but it’s also a childhood nicknamed that stayed, Clint Barton; whose Golden Retriever named Lucky is the station dog and loves pizza apparently, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff; who are twins and moved to the States when they were kids, James Rhodes; who goes by Rhodey and is the other James, and then was told that Carol Danvers, Maria Hill, Peter Parker, Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne you would meet another time due to them being off.

“Sorry I’m late!” A voice boomed throughout the station. You turned in the direction of said voice and your breath got caught in your throat.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

“I know right.” Natasha smirked. “I’m kidding. One thing you’ll quickly see is how we all tease each other.”

You awkwardly chuckled, “Oh okay.” 

He noticed you standing with Natasha and you saw his face pale before he schooled his features and walked over to you. He was now wearing the same uniform everyone else was and it was fitting him perfectly just like the jeans and tee he put on this morning when he left your apartment.

“Hi there. You must be the new EMT we were sent.” He placed his hands in the pockets of his pants and stood there exuding authority. 

“Uh, yeah.” You tried to smile hoping it was an actual smile. 

“Steve. Or Captain Rogers. Or Rogers. Or Cap like everyone else seems to call me.” He chuckled as he held his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N.” You said as you shook his hand while your brain so helpfully supplied an image of those hands around your waist.

“Let’s head to my office before we get a call. There’s some housekeeping things I want you to know.” 

You hummed an acknowledgement and followed him to his office trying to keep your gaze in the middle of his back or the floor so as to not focus on his behind that was contained by the uniform pants. Steve opened the door and motioned for you to walk through the doorway.

“You can have a seat in one of those chairs if you’d like.”

You quickly walked over to the chairs in front of his desk and sat down. He sat in the rolling chair on the other side and leaned back in the chair studying you. Instead of meeting his gaze, you looked down at your pants picking off pieces of invisible lint.

“Well,” Steve cleared his throat and leaned forward to place his forearms on his desk with his fingers interlocked with each other. “I will say that this is not how I expected this shift to go.”

You chuckled, still staring at your pants. “You and me both.”

“I don’t want to make this uncomfortable for you and I can work it out to where we won’t be on the same shift. But, I do want you to be here because I’ve seen your scores for all the tests and they’re phenomenal.” Steve said. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled with a slight heat in your cheeks. “And you don’t have to change anything. I’ll admit it might be weird the first couple days but I’ll be fine.” You gain the courage to look at him and saw his ocean blue eyes watching you. 

“Not to make this any more awkward than it kinda is but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left your place.” Now it was Steve’s turn to blush. “I promise I’m not trying to come onto you but, uh, I just needed to say that.” He looked down at his desk and fiddled with his thumbs.”

“Well if it’s any consolation I haven't stopped thinking about you either.” You smiled. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something but then the bell rang signaling that there was a call. “Well, let’s start your first shift.” 

You two stood up from your seats and Steve opened the door for you to go first. You gave him a smile as you thanked him. 

“Let’s do that.” You chuckled and took off towards the ambulance with Natasha. 

--------------------

It’s been a few months since your first day and the team has felt more like a family every day. Natasha has felt like a sister to you, Sam has gotten a run for his money when you’ve played pranks and your relationship with Steve has gotten…...closer. You ended up telling Natasha that you slept with him and she couldn’t help but laugh. When you asked why she was laughing she said, “Well, I don’t blame you. He is a nice snack.” You couldn’t disagree with her on that. Steve and you talked about how you two wouldn’t let that night affect you two working together but neither of you could ignore that there were feelings for the other. 

“Hey Y/N!! Can you call Lucky over? He keeps trying to drink the soapy water!” Clint yells across the firehouse where he, Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey were trying to was one of the trucks.

“Yeah. No problem. Lucky! C’mere!” You whistled. The Golden Retriever came bounding over to you and jumped into your arms licking you all over your face. You giggled as you gently pushed him away to go over to his toys and grabbed a tug rope. 

As you were playing with Lucky and wearing him out, the alarm that signaled a call sounded. Dispatch said an ambulance was needed for a car accident. It was always difficult to tell how bad car accidents are until you get there. You and Wanda, who you found out was another EMT, were on shift and ran to the ambulance to head to where the accident was. The accident was at an intersection that always had a lot of accidents whether it be minor or major. 

When you and Wanda arrived, there were already two ambulances there which told the two of you how bad it was. There were at least six cars involved. One was wrapped around a tree, two looked like they collided head on, and the three rear ended each other. There looked to be people out of some cars but your biggest worry was the one wrapped around the tree. You asked one of the other EMTs if any of them checked on the patient of the car around the tree and they said they got there a few seconds before you and Wanda. 

You yelled for Wanda to grab the bags while you ran over to check on whoever it was in the car. Your breath got caught in your throat as you saw it was Steve in the driver’s seat. He was unconscious, slumped over the steering wheel. You gently leaned him back so you could check his front for injuries. Steve had a cut above his eyebrow causing blood to trickle down his face, his left arm was broken which also had the bone poking through the skin, the steering wheel dashboard trapped his legs which caused you to not assess the injuries there. 

“Oh my god.” Wanda gasped when she saw who it was. 

“Wanda,” You turned to look at her. “I know it’s Steve but we treat him like every other person we’ve treated before. Okay?”

She swallowed and nodded her head. Wanda pulled out a cervical collar and handed it to you so you can place it around Steve’s neck to prevent any hidden injuries from getting worse. You called over your shoulder to have Wanda get the spine board. She nodded and ran to the ambulance. A groan pulled your attention back to the man in the banged up vehicle. 

“Steve? Hey big guy. Can you open your eyes for me?” You gently coaxed.

“Wha-? Y/N? What are you doin here?” His speech was slurred but you couldn’t tell if it was because he was regaining consciousness or if the cut on his head was more than just a cut.

“You got in a car accident. Do you know what happened?” You asked as you placed the collar around his neck.

Steve scrunched his face trying to think. “I-I can’t remember.” He started to panic. “Why can’t I remember?”

“Steve, you need to calm down.” You grabbed his wrists so he wouldn’t hurt himself. “Right now I need to check over your injuries.” You heard footsteps behind you and saw the spine board placed next to you. Wanda started getting stuff out of the bag to bandage the cut on Steve’s head. 

The two of you started to assess what you could see but you knew the steering wheel dashboard needed to get moved. You stood up and turned to see if there were any firefighters who could help and saw Sam, Bucky, Clint, and Rhodey all running over to you. They looked over your shoulder and saw it was Steve. 

“What do you need?” Sam asked. 

“His legs are trapped so we need to get those out.”

“Alright. Guys, let’s get the equipment to help.” The men took off back to the fire engine and you turned your attention back to Steve. 

“Hey. I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?” You asked Steve. He mumbled a ‘yes’ and you started asking questions which would assess his mental status. You heard many pairs of footsteps running back over to you and saw Sam out the corner of your eye. You, Sam, and the rest of your team who were there, worked together to get Steve out from being trapped in the car. Once his legs were free, you all placed him on the spine board while Clint and Wanda went to get the gurney. 

“Everything hurts.” Steve groaned in pain. 

“I know, honey.” Unintentionally letting the pet name slip out. “I’m gonna get you some meds for that.” You got everything to get an IV in his arm to distribute pain meds. Wanda and Clint came back with the gurney and everyone loaded him up on the gurney, then into the ambulance, and Wanda jumped in the driver seat and started heading to the hospital. 

“Y/N.” Steve whispered. “I’m glad that you were there.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand. “Well I’m glad that you’re alright for the most part.”

“You called me ‘honey’.”

“Eh. Pet names like that slip from me at times. Sorry if it was unprofessional.”

He gently shook his head as best he could with the collar on. “No, I actually liked it.” 

You could see a sense of determination in his eyes. “How ‘bout we focus on you getting better before we talk about possibly dating and what that means for our jobs.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know?”

“Steve. Honey.” You winked at him. “It’s my job to check for even the smallest facial expressions in order to see how much pain someone is in.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

You shook your head chuckling, checking over his injuries you could see to make sure none have gotten worse. 

Wanda pulled into the ambulance bay of the hospital where three nurses met you and helped you roll Steve into the hospital. He went to surgery for his arm and to make sure there were know serious internal injuries. You were there by his bedside in recovery when he woke up. The two of you would figure out logistics with the budding relationship at a later date but knew you couldn’t wait too long. 

Steve mumbled as he was coming out of the anesthesia. He opened his eyes a bit and saw you sitting there. “Hi.” He closed his eyes with a smile on his face. 

You smiled. “Hi. How you feeling?”

Steve mumbled incoherently which caused you to chuckle. 

“Alright.” You grabbed his right hand, being careful of the IV line, in both of yours. “You get more rest.” Steve mumbled more as you placed a kiss on his knuckles.

Tags: @patzammit @bobbydearest @katiew1973 @rocketrhap3000 @harrysthiccthighss @justamarvelfan14​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​

#steve rogers x reader #firefighter!Steve #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #hannahshattuck writings

[avnkin]

Not What It Seems ( d.m )

Summary: Draco starts spreading rumours about you and you demand to know why.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k ish

Warnings: angst and draco being mean

Author’s Note: here’s my first draco fic!!! i’m currently working on 4 others, one series, two requests and a one shot that i’m 8k words deep into,, please continue sending in requests i love hearing your ideas and writing them out!<3 PSA I wrote this in like an hour so it’s not my best work lmao I just wanted to post something since i’ve been so inactive (not my gif)

You and Draco had always had a sort of rivalry going on between the two of you. Everyday in class he’d throw a snide comment directed your way which you’d send right back with a remark of your own.

Everyone had gotten used it by now the teachers hardly bothering to intervene whenever you two were having one of your ‘arguments’ in class.

It had been a monday when the rumours had started. You’d been walking to your charms class when you noticed the abnormally large crowd of Slytherin girls stop and stare when you walked past, whispering in each other’s ears while they not so subtly pointed at you.

You’d thought nothing of it since most of those girls hated you and made damn sure you knew it so that wasn’t anything new, but the stares and giggles had continued on for the rest of the day and not just from the Slytherin’s but the other houses as well, what the hell was going on?

When you’d finally made it to your last class of the day you’d grown fairly sick of it. Hermione had taken a seat next you which was when you knew something was definitely up since she always sat next to Ron and you to Harry.

She’d given you a worried glance which you’d returned with one of confusion.

“Why is everyone acting so weird?” you finally asked noticing the lingering stares from your fellow classmates who quickly looked away whenever you made eye contact.

“I was actually coming to see if you knew” Hermione had hesitantly replied, shuffling uncomfortably in her seat.

“Knew? knew what” you inquired feeling the tiniest hint of nerves as you watched Hermione bite down on her, lip carefully contemplating her next words.

“There’s been this rumour... about you” Hermione cautioned, it was obvious she didn’t feel comfortable telling you this but you didn’t care continuing to press on her. 

“What rumour?”

“Well it’s just people have been saying that you’ve been- uh sleeping around” she spoke the last part of her sentence quietly as she looked down onto her lap “please don’t think I’m judging you, I would never do that what you do in your own time is entirely your business and no one else’s, it’s just to bad nobody at this school seems to be familiar with the word privacy- but anyways, I just wanted you to hear it from me rather then anybody else”

Your eyes widened at her words and you suddenly became very aware of the students that we’re still staring now knowing what they were thinking made it ten times worse.

“What? why would anyone think that” your voice wavered even though you felt like you knew exactly who had started the rumour, Malfoy.

He’d seen you with a fellow Slytherin boy the other night, you knew that because you’d made very awkward eye contact with the platinum blond once you’d entered they boys dormitories.

It hadn’t been anything like everyone seemed to think, but you couldn’t go telling people that you were sneaking around with a boy who was helping you cheat on your tests.

You hadn’t been doing well in school so you saw no harm in paying someone off to do your homework or work on spells that would enable him to talk to you during tests and tell you the answers. Your family was wealthy which was why you knew they wouldn’t question the missing money.

You figured that Draco had been watching you whenever you’d sneak into the Slytherin common room but decided to keep it to himself until today apparently.

When he walked into the classroom accompanied by his usual entourage, you gave him the deadliest stare you could muster which he only replied too with a wink.

It infuriated you that he’d been spreading such lies about you, who did he think he was? Even if you had been sleeping with the boy it wasn’t his or anyone else’s damn business.

Since the teacher had yet to arrive you angrily stood up stomping towards Draco, wanting to get more than a few things off of your chest.

When you finally stood in front of his desk you slammed both your hands down on the wooden surface causing him to turn towards you leaning back in his chair his signature smirk resting on his lips.

“Anything I can help you with Y/L/N” his voice was smooth, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, asshole.

“You can stop telling lies about me for starters” you chided, rolling your eyes once you heard the ‘oh’s’ from around you, clearly you’d caught the attention of the rest of the class.

“They’re not lies and you know it” he challenged now sitting up fully in his chair.

“Yes they are and why do you even care Malfoy? Are you jealous” that sentence seemed to throw him off as he uncomfortably shifted in his chair his body language changing in mere seconds.

That’s when you realized you’d hit a soft spot, smirking before continuing “oh I get it, that’s it, you’re in love with me aren’t you” you teasingly pouted leaning forward on his desk to rest your chin in your palm smiling innocently up at him.

A bright pink tint appeared on his cheeks as he took in a deep breath giving you a warning glare which you ignored even though you knew you were skating on thin ice.

“Poor Malfoy can’t even get the girl he likes”

That’s when he seemed to snap, quickly getting up pushing the chair from behind him causing it to almost fall to the floor but Zabini’s arm had caught it just in time.

He placed his fingers on the desk in front of him, all embarrassment seeming to fade off of him as he looked you up and down, his signature smirk now back on his lips.

“Believe me Y/L/N, I don’t want you and neither does anyone else so any guy who says he’s interested in you beyond just fucking you is full of shit”

You’d been expecting him to say a lot of things but not that. You stood frozen for a couple of seconds, this was probably the first time you couldn’t come up with anything to say.

His words had cut deep and the chortles from the students around you weren’t helping at all. You felt tears beginning to brim in the corner of your eyes but you didn’t dare let them fall, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt so you just shook your head before heading straight for the exit of the classroom.

“That was a low blow Malfoy, even for you” Hermione glared at him before hurriedly standing up and following you out into the hallway.

Draco didn’t melt into the cheers and laughter of his friends like he usually did, instead he sunk into his seat ignoring everyone around him.

He knew what he’d said wasn’t true but he’d been so blinded by jealousy when he saw you enter another boys dormitory that he’d gone to Blaise and told him that he wouldn’t be surprised if you would have gone through the entire Slytherin house by the end of the term.

He truly didn’t know why he did it and a sudden guilt creeped onto him as flashes off your hurt face lingered in his mind.

Tears were now fully falling down your cheeks, you felt embarrassed and humiliated, he’d given all the students yet another thing to gossip about without a care in the world.

“Y/N!” Hermione’s voice sounded from behind you causing to you quickly stop and turn around gladly accepting the comforting hug she engulfed you in as soon as she reached you.

“He’s full of shit Y/N don’t you dare let someone like him be the cause of your tears. You are so much more than his stupid comments believe me” you nodded letting her wipe away your tears.

You stayed out in the hallway for a couple more minutes but when you saw professor Snape walking past you, you didn’t feel like getting yelled at for being late as well so you and Hermione quickly followed after him.

As soon as you walked into the classroom all eyes were on you but you ignored them keeping your head held high as you walked back to your seat not daring to look over at Draco.

After class had finished you felt much better having spent your time with ‘the golden trio’ letting them cheer you up, your embarrassment long forgotten as the four of you made your way into the Great Hall for dinner.

You’d been walking behind them having been to caught up in your own thoughts when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist pulling you into an empty corner of the hallway along with them.

You let out a yelp as you were pressed against a wall a hand coming up to cover your mouth. You quickly looked up at your assailant only to be met with a pair of grey eyes you weren’t expecting to see, Draco.

“Calm down it’s just me”

You immediately pushed him off of you “Is that supposed to make feel better? God you’re such an arse” you scoffed attempting to walk away from him but he grabbed your arm again pulling you back in front of him.

“Y/N please hear me out” he pleaded, the mention of your first name startling you a bit, not once in all your years at Hogwarts had he called you Y/N.

“Y/N huh, that’s new” you folded your arms over your chest glaring up at him.

He ignored your words as he fiddled with his fingers clearly trying to think of an apology good enough for what he had said earlier.

“Shit, Y/N- I mean Y/L/N, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said that it was stupid, I-I hope you know I don’t actually think that, It’s just when I saw you with him I got so mad, I don’t know why I-I didn’t mean it-“

“You didn’t mean it? Well that sure as hell didn’t stop you from saying it in front of the entire bloody class” you cut him off now resting your hand on your hip.

“I know, I- I don’t know what to say except that I’m really sorry” he shook his head before he turned to walk away from you, but just as he was about to round the corner you called out after him.

“I’m sorry for what I said as well”

He stopped dead in his tracks before slowly making his way back to stand in front of you, you were now very much aware of how close the two of you were and you almost invontarily backed into the stone wall causing him to take another step towards you.

“Well you weren’t exactly wrong”

“Oh so you were jealous” you teased looking up at the platnium blond who already had his eyes glued on you a small smile resting on his lips

Instead of answering he surged forward pressing you even harder into the wall, his hands wrapping around your waist as his lips connected with yours.

Your eyes widened at his actions as you stood frozen against him which he seemed to notice after a couple of seconds quickly pushing himself off of you.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” you cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet your lips again.

He hungrily kissed you back his arms wrapping around your torso before travelling down to your hips pulling you even more into him.

“What on earth is going on here” professor McGonagall’s voice suddenly sounded from beside you causing the two of you to quickly jump away from each other.

“Oh- uhm sorry professor we were just- uhm” you tried to come up with an excuse turning your head towards Draco hoping he would help but he just stood frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Detention, both of you for the next two weeks”

#draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #harry potter imagine #harry potter #tom felton imagine #tom felton

[zhongliologist]

Slowly, Deliberately | Zhongli

Pairing: Zhongli x fem!reader

Genre: SMUT!! SMUT!! SMUT!!

Words: 3.3k

A/N: this was inspired by @genshin-fluff​‘s headcanons! IT WAS SO HOT I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF!! thank you for the idea!!

*WARNING!! THIS IS PURE SMUT. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, IT IS UPON YOUR DISCRETION. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY*

*

It had been a fantastic night.

Zhongli’s gentle yet steady hold on you still felt warm on your skin as the lanterns above illuminated his face in a bright golden glow, creating patterns of light and shadow on his smiling face. His deep but sensual voice still ringing on your ears as you heard him whisper your name, leading you to his room.

He forgot to open his one last present he says. You wondered what it was.

It had been his birthday today, and the both of you enjoyed it thoroughly. A picnic by the Liyue cliffsides in the morning and a dinner date at the Wanmin Restaurant in the evening, then a small peaceful walk along the stone tiled streets of the harbor as the winter sea breeze kept the both of you huddled together.

It was one of days where you would hear him genuinely laugh out loud—a deep chuckle as he gazes at you with endearment, his fingers securing a stray lock behind your ear. He just makes you feel so many things all at once that you couldn’t really put a name to each and every emotion. But you were sure of one thing—you loved him.

And as the day finally draws near to its demise; the stars high up in the pitch black sky, twinkling brightly as ever before, he held you once more.

It hadn’t escaped your notice how your lover (not boyfriend, he says, because it is not the most appropriate label), has taken upon himself to buy you the most expensive and most intricate clothing he could find his hands on, and have you wear them even in the most common occasions.

The clothes were extraordinary in and of itself—complex lacing, sheer fabric, ribbons and blouses which attach to and fro, front and back and in everything and everywhere. It took you several tries to finally make sense of them, but no matter the complexity, they were still beautiful—a testament of Zhongli’s eye for high quality items.

Yet the most complicated and elaborate one was of course, reserved for his birthday. As soon as he had heard you prepare a surprise date (which wasn’t much of a surprise anymore), he immediately sent you the dress with the explicit instruction to wear it on that special day.

And you did. Now, as he stood right there front of you, his hands once again on your waist; his eyes bearing nothing but love and appreciation.

“Thank you for tonight, YN. It’s been a while since I have celebrated my own birthday, and I am truly glad I am able to spend it with you,” he whispered with a sweet smile.

“Me too. I’m glad you enjoyed it…” you replied, wondering what was inside his thoughts like most of the time.

As he leaned down towards you, a ghost of a smile on his lips, he captured yours in a gentle but sensual kiss, pouring every ounce of his feelings on that one single action—hoping that maybe you would understand what the deep recesses of his heart contained.

And maybe you did—knowingly or unknowingly—as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. You could feel it, at every nip, at every bite or touch of his lips; that this man has fallen hard, and you were not any better.

“Zhongli…” you whispered his name in between pecks and long drawn kisses, breathless and panting. You didn’t have to say it but Zhongli knew what you wanted.

“Patience, my dear,” he replied back as he pulled away, a mysterious smile on his lips.

You stood there dazed and confused, as Zhongli cupped your chin and tilted your head up, his bright amber eyes glowing with mischief. A shiver coursed down your spine as you bit the side of your cheek to stop you from mewling, but it had already made its effect.

“Tonight,” he began, his unoccupied hand now grazing on the sheer fabric of your blouse, feeling the ribbons against your collarbones with his every finger. “I’ll be unwrapping my gift.”

“G-gift…?” you asked as you felt his hands travel down your waist and to your hips and up again. “Haven’t I already given you one?”

At your question, the man only chuckled at you and smirked. Zhongli said nothing as he began to walk around as if encircling his prey, his eyes roaming but his hands never touching. It felt as if he was undressing you with his eyes, especially when you felt him stand tall behind your back, his digits now brushing your hair away from your neck.

“There is another gift I failed to mention,” he said, his hand slowly pulling the ribbons open on your back before leaning in to kiss your now bare nape. “And I shall enjoy this gift thoroughly to show my appreciation.”

Zhongli kept you still by wrapping his arms around your waist as he continued to kiss down your back at every skin he exposed. Often he would stop at one area, just to suck and leave his own mark which often made you shudder.

Slowly, deliberately.

Zhongli would remove one layer of clothing at a time, and then leave a few lingering kisses to the places he touched.

As he took off your outer wear, his hands roamed your arms and to your digits, kissing the knuckles and every finger. He would then look at you with those lustful eyes when he popped the buttons off your sheer outer blouse one by one, his tongue taking no time to explore the newly exposed area with fervent desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered on your skin, each word punctuated by a kiss. “Every part of you is a work of art—your voice, your eyes, your mind…your body. You make my heart beat race ceaselessly.”

“W-wait…I—ah…!” you moaned, unable to keep it in anymore as his touch became bolder and more adventurous.

He was behind you again after he removed the first blouse; admiring the straps of ribbon holding the dress up. His lips now upon your bare shoulder, peppering small light pecks on your skin as his hands on your waist moved to fondle your breasts.

“It seems I have made the right decision to buy you this dress,” Zhongli told you as he nibbled on your ear, his tongue following after. “I simply wish to devour you tonight.”

Mind in utter chaos, you couldn’t think of anything but his slow and sensual progress of undressing you. Each time his lips or his tongue or his hands ravished you, it seemed like fire has been ignited on your skin; the heat surging down to your lower parts.

You could feel his large hands on your chest, stimulating your clothed nipples—only making you lean against him, moaning. Glancing up, you caught his attention with your sultry half-lidded eyes.

“Zhongli…please stop teasing me…”

He chuckled, his deep voice making his chest rumble. Looking down on you with his lips just a few centimeters away, he replied.

“Forgive me, darling yet I am not yet done with enjoying my present. Perhaps you can endure it for a while, hm?”

“Zhongli…!” you whined and was about to retort when a sudden gasp escaped your lips.

Biting your shoulder, Zhongli gave your shoulder and neck a thorough inspection as he sucked and nipped on your most sensitive points. He raked his lips up your jaw, leaving a wake of splotches of colors on your skin. It seemed to quell the possessiveness in him, seeing those marks he left on you—reminding him, you and everybody that you are his and his only.

“Will you be a good girl for me, YN?” he asked, his deft fingers now untying the knots holding the sash in place as it fell down on the floor in one swoop.

“What…?” you asked while he kicked the spent clothes away and led you to a corner of the room beside his bed.

When he finally stopped, you immediately realized what was in front of you. A mirror.

Zhongli was once again behind you, his head nuzzling on your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Look at how aroused you look, my love,” he muttered just behind your ear, a smirk on his lips. “If only I could take you right here, right now, and bend you towards the mirror and thrust into you sharply. Make you scream my name and how good I make you feel until my seed drips from your cunt. But it would end just like that, wouldn’t it, YN?”

Pressing you against him, you suddenly felt his erection poking your back which only drove your arousal to new heights. You were still dressed but the way your skin flushed with heat and the way your breath ragged seemed like he had kissed you senseless over and over again.

“Do you understand now why I want to enjoy you as much as I can?” he asked, a growl escaping his throat as his hands dipped further from your waist and towards your thighs.

The dress was cut just a little above your knee—the cloth the only thing separating your bare skin from his sensual touch. It drove you crazy. Unable to look at yourself in the mirror, you looked down on the wooden floor yet that didn’t save you as much as you had hoped.

“Darling, look at you.”

Forcibly propping your head up with his hand, you had no choice but to gaze into your reflection—a moaning mess of ajar lips and half lidded eyes as he groped your body tirelessly. You could feel the dampness soaking your underwear when you found his eyes—smoldering amber swirling deep with desire.

Zhongli smirked.

“Oh? Did you like what you see?” he muttered as you saw his eyes glint. “Then don’t dare remove your eyes from me.”

At this point, you could hardly understand anything as the pleasure of his touch drove your thoughts somewhere else. But when he walked in front of you and knelt down, you instantly knew what he was about to do and you weren’t sure if you can actually stay true to his orders.

“Allow me to undress you, my love,” Zhongli whispered with a conniving grin, removing both your shoes and setting them aside.

Without waiting for you to reply, he raked his finger up the calf of your leg and to your thighs—the ticklish sensation making you utter such dirty sounds. He was testing the waters, watching your every reaction as he kept on moving his hands up and down your stocking-covered legs.

“Z-Zhongli…”

You gasped, your hands tightly grasped his head as you felt his lips kiss your thigh. Slowly, gradually, his thumb meandered lines on the boundary of the knee-high socks and your bare skin, threatening to go further up at any given time.

Zhongli relished all the sounds you made as he pushed the dress up, finding the seam of the sock with his lips. Gazing up, he met your eyes as his teeth sunk on the garment, pulling it off with his mouth and making sure you saw it with your own two eyes.

Struggling to keep your balance from your weakening knees, you leaned one arm on the mirror as Zhongli kept on assaulting your leg with fervent and feverish kisses which sent jolts of pleasure towards your cunt. He of course, left his marks on your skin.

“You’re mine. Only mine.”

Even without you noticing, he had already removed the other sock from your leg; his head slipping underneath your dress. You could feel his breath on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your dripping cunt as he suckled on your sensitive skin, earning a mewl and a shudder up your spine.

“Oh god…Zhongli…!”

He could hear you struggle to maintain yourself, but in his opinion, you were already too far gone—as much as he is anyway. He could feel his dick straining against his pants; the desire to fuck you getting stronger and stronger at every passing second. But he had to wait, he had to be patient.

He had to prepare you.

Pressing a finger on your clothed cunt, he could already tell how wet you were even without hearing your moans. As he poked your hole with his finger, he could feel your legs shake which made him steady you with his hands.

“P-please…please…Zhongli….!”

You begged as you kept your eyes tightly shut, feeling the sensation of his fingers tightly gripping your hips and his breathe on your cunt.

Unable to resist himself, Zhongli pushed aside your underwear and began licking the fluids dripping down from your hole, making sure he got every last drop. You clenched a fistful of his hair as your knees buckled at the pleasurable assault on your cunt.

And when you thought you had enough pleasure for tonight, Zhongli began sucking on your clit, forcing a cry from your lips, as his tongue lapped and suck at the sensitive nub. You couldn’t take it anymore; you were definitely close to climax—the string hold you together was so tightly wound that it could snap at any time.

“W-wait…please…! I…I’m—!”

As if reading your thoughts, he pushed you even further by inserting a finger inside of you, pumping in and out as his tongue drew circles around your clit. You groaned loudly, almost bending over as you felt your climax wash over you in multiple waves of pleasure—electrocuting you from your toes to the ends of your fingertips.

At exactly the same time Zhongli finally emerged from underneath your dress, your legs finally gave up on you, making him catch your delicate and still sensitive body in his arms. Brushing the stray locks on your sweat stained face, he gently kissed your forehead as a token of his love.

“You’ve been a good girl,” he praised you, setting you on the bed with a sweet smile. “Allow me to clean you—”

You pulled on his sleeve before he could leave. “…wait…I—”

Zhongli gazed at you from where he sat on the bed, your implication beginning to dawn on him.

“Forgive me, I haven’t realized…” he began as he shifted closer to you. “…that you wish for me, as much as I wish for you.”

With his hand on the back of your head, Zhongli pushed his lips against yours in a searing kiss; tongues on one another as he explored every bit of your mouth. It took him some time to realize that it wasn’t enough; concerned that you were far too exhausted to continue, but now that he had your permission, he wouldn’t be holding back any longer.

With the slow and teasing foreplay replaced by a burning desire that was never there before, Zhongli quickly divested you of your final clothing; tossing the dress uncaringly towards the floor. Hooking his fingers around the sides of your underwear, he then removed it as he kissed down your stomach as he worshipped every curve of your body.

“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispered, “I have never laid eyes on such beauty before.”

Kneeling in front of your lying figure, Zhongli raked his eyes all over you as you visibly saw how they instantly got clouded with lust and hunger. You could feel his domineering presence towering above you as he hurriedly removed his coat, tie and shirt—everything, except his pants.

“Zhongli…please,” you coaxed him, all bare and naked in front of him. “I want you…”

An easy smirk crept up his lips.

“I see you have asked so nicely of me,” he started as he removed his impressive dick from its constraints. “I shall grant you your wish then.”

Pressing the tip on your wet entrance, you gradually felt him enter; stretching you to amounts you have never expected. To distract you, Zhongli captured your lips into a kiss, his tongue once again rendering you speechless, as his hands found themselves fondling your breasts. In time, he had buried himself into you to the hilt, whispering sweet nothings to your ear.

“Zhongli…! Please move…” you muttered, your breaths shallow as you tried to accommodate his size. Even after so many times, it still took some time to get used to him inside you.

Slowly, Zhongli began to move; watching your every expression to see if you were in pain. He knew he was bigger than normal and he had to be patient when it comes to you, but eventually, you both would find a right rhythm and pace for it to start feeling good.

“You take me in so well, my love,” he whispered to you, his lips just above yours as he thrusted into you sharply.

“F-fuck…Zhongli….oh god!” You cried as he kept on hitting your sensitive spot, your nails raking down his back.

You could feel the electrifying-burning sensations underneath your skin once again as the sounds of skin slapping against on another echoed across the room. You could hear your insides squelching as his dick rubbed against your walls; making you clench on him tighty.

Zhongli growled. His intense eyes on yours in an instant;  his hand finding your clit to rub as he kept on pounding you over and over again. You could feel him so deep inside you, filling you up entirely, even more so when he placed your leg on his shoulder; allowing for a much deeper access.

“S-so good…! Ah….Zhongli….! Z-Zhongli…! Harder…please!”

Not one to disappoint, he shoved his cock harshly inside of you as he quickened his pace; still rubbing your clit to push to even further to climax.

“YN…! Ahh….you’re so tight…” he whispered, his eyes also sultry as he kept on pounding inside of you; the girth of his dick stretching you wide.

In a moment’s impulse, Zhongli turned you around on your hands and knees and then went back inside of you in a sharp thrust that only elicited a loud moan from your lips. He kept on fucking you from behind, relentlessly and rapidly until you were reduced into a mess on the bed, drooling and biting on the sheets as he continued on.

“Z-Zhongli…!” you uttered his name over and over again as if you were under a spell.

He leaned down towards you, lapping on your shoulder and your nape. “Are…are you close, my love? I’m close to climax as well…”

With ragged breathes, you forced out a yes from your throat. “Oh god…p-please…! Y-yes! Zhongli…cum…p-please cum inside!”

Upon hearing those words, you could hear him groan beside your ear, his hands on your waist holding you in a tight grip. Just by those words, he has been pushed to the brink of climax. He had never thought he’d love to hear those words from you.

“F-Fuck…YN…! I’m going to come…! I’m going to come inside…! Take all of my seed!”

As his pace began to become more manic, you could feel him twitch inside of you. Just one sharp thrust, and the both of you were gone; convulsing as your orgasm washed over you for the second time while Zhongli groaned and emptied himself inside of you, the warm pumps of his cum filling you to the brim.

Spent and exhausted, you slumped back on the bed as Zhongli pulled out from you, making you mewl at the sudden emptiness. He could see his cum beginning to drip out of your cunt, unable to hold everything inside.

Absentmindedly, he scooped it up with his fingers and pushed his cum back inside your hole, smearing his seed on your slit as he continued; earning a protest from you.

“W-wait…I’m still sensitive…!”

Zhongli flinched as he removed his hand, face flushing. “Oh, forgive me. I…I simply do not wish to see it like that…”

As you heard his words, you grinned at him as you laid on the bed. “Could it be that you really want to get me pregnant?”

He could feel the teasing lilt in your voice which made him smile at you. Leaning down, he gave you a quick peck on your forehead and then a small kiss on your lips.

“If you are not yet exhausted tonight, we can make sure of that.”

#genshin impact #zhongli #rex lapis #s!ns

[nationalharryleague]

The Busy Bean

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Coworkers to lovers AU

Word count: 5.6K

A/N: Hi all! This is my entry for Sadie’s (@meetmeinfleetwood) To Lovers Fic Challenge!! As always, many thanks to Mia (@hardcandy-harry) and Lu (@meetmymouth​ even tho shes taking a little break lol) for being wonderful betas!! I really love it and I hope you enjoy it too! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think (or anything else lol) in my ask! 

***

The first day at a new job is a universally terrifying experience.

You can’t sleep the night before, head full of nightmare scenarios of evil customers and mean bosses, and a swirl of anxiety continues to bubble in the pit of your stomach, refusing to slow or calm. There's a part of you that prays they will call and tell you that they don’t need your help anymore, despite how bad you need the money. But the call never comes, and the next day you stand in front of the building, desperately trying to take deep breaths and slow your heart rate, bracing yourself for whatever is to come whenever you enter.

This is where Y/N was today, in a mess of shaky palms with slight blue bags under her eyes from a lack of sleep that wouldn’t disappear no matter how hard her concealer tried. She stood in front of the large plate glass window of the cafe, sneaking glimpses and trying to prepare herself for whatever awaited before she actually reached to take the door handle. With a glance at her watch that signaled it was time for her to arrive, she took one last deep breath and entered the small but cozy space.

The cafe itself wasn’t open yet, devoid of customers with only a few lights behind the counter on, but it was full of the delightful and familiar smell of coffee that swirled around her head. The wall to her left was an exposed brick that had been painted white with a long table running along it with stools tucked underneath and a long cafe counter ran the length of the shop to her right. The far back wall of the shop was a giant book shelf with books stacked from the bottom of the top, arranged in a rainbow pattern along each shelf. The store was unbearably charming.

“Hello?” she felt herself call out softly into the empty space. Her voice came out slightly timid, her anxious mind not giving her lips full permission to speak.

She listened to a shuffling and a distant voice muttering “shit,” that seemed to be coming from a door that sat behind the counter where the few lights had been turned on. Before long, a man with curly hair popped his head out from the back hallway, giving her a wide dimpled smile. “Just give me a minute!” he said, holding up his pointer finger for a second, before disappearing back into the hall. After a few more moments of shuffling and muffled cursing, he reappeared. His face held the same dimpled grin as before.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, reaching out a hand for her to shake across the counter. “Boss man said you would be starting today.”

“That’s me,” she spoke gently, still apprehensive in the new surroundings. She placed her hand in his and he shook it with a friendliness she hadn’t expected from her first couple minutes in a new work space. His hand was warm and his nails were painted a bright and sunshiny yellow.

“I’m Harry. It’s great to meet you!” His voice was deep, but light and enthusiastic, far too excited for the early morning calm that she had been reveling in on her walk to the shop.

She decided quickly that he looked like a ‘Harry’ and that his name matched his cheerful disposition. His green eyes shined, even in the relatively dim early morning light that illuminated the room through the front window, and they held a disarming and calming quality that slowed her heart rate for the first time since she had woken up.

“You too.” She forced a smile onto her lips, hoping to conceal the first day jitters that ran through her system.

“Don’t worry about your first day,” he read her like a book. “Everyone here is very nice and you have the best trainer in the world.”

“I’m assuming that’s you?” she questioned, letting out a light chuckle.

“Well, of course it is.”

She was slightly taken aback by the peculiar, yet undeniably charming, man that stood across the counter from her. He was dressed in a loose fitting black sweater that looked cozy and soft, paired with wide-legged tan slacks, all covered with a dark green apron that had the cafe’s logo on the chest. The Busy Bean was embroidered in a light yellow sitting above a mug with a bumble bee on it; it was charming and cute, fitting in well with the plethora of plants and flowers that filled the cafe.

He must have noticed her staring at the logo. “You like the name?” he asked her, pointing at the logo that sat on his chest. She nodded softly, a smile finding its way on to her lips. “We’re going to be very busy beans in about,” he paused to check his watch, “thirty minutes when we open. So put this on,” he slid her very own apron across the counter, “and let's get ready.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said they were going to be busy.

While the shop had intentionally started her on a Saturday morning when it was usually a bit slower, the morning rush came in and threw her for a tizzy. She took orders and ran them to tables for what seemed like hours, kept far away from the coffee bar as she was unsure of how to make all of the drinks yet. But thankfully, she wasn’t alone.

Soon after opening, another woman arrived, wearing the same dark green apron that matched Y/N and Harry’s. She had long dark hair that fell to the small of her back and in gentle waves and glowing mocha skin with golden eyes. She introduced herself as Isla, with a warm and friendly smile, and stationed herself behind the counter, making drink after drink that smelled intoxicatingly delicious. Y/N thanked god, or whatever was out there, that she and Harry had someone else to help them out while customers flowed in and out of the shop.

Harry hung by her side for the entirety of the morning rush, carefully watching her every move, and gently redirecting her when she seemed to make a mistake. He was kind and she could tell that he genuinely wanted her to learn, not just to do a job well for efficiency’s sake. There was never a trace of frustration on his features, just patience and good will.

Around noon, the flood of patrons looking for their morning coffee began to slow, finally giving Y/N an opportunity to rest. She flopped herself down on a stool that sat behind the counter and released a long sigh, stretching her neck and slumping her shoulders. She was met by sympathetic giggles coming from her two new co-workers.

“Honey,” Isla began with a hint of pity in her voice, “that was nothing.”

“What did I get myself into?” Y/N chuckled through a groan, putting her face in her hands out of exhaustion.

“I promise it gets easier,” Harry chimed in, always one to calm someone’s anxieties. “You just need to get into the swing of things.”

“What I need to do is learn how to make all the fancy coffees that people keep asking me for,” she said, peeking through her fingers at her still amused coworkers.

A look was passed between the two of them, Isla eventually moving out of the way and motioning for Harry to take over the coffee bar. “Come on Baby Barista, lets teach you some of the basics.”

His nickname for her made her release a loud laugh, immediately stifling it to a few giggles when she realized she had caused a few patrons to look up and over at her. Her cheeks warmed instantly, embarrassed for disturbing them, and she added another item to the list of things she was learning never to do again with customers in the store.

He guided her over to the counter full of machinery including pots of coffee, hot water, an espresso machine, and more equipment she couldn’t even identify. He spoke to her gently and gave her all his attention, carefully talking her through how to make a few of the most ordered drinks. Other than almost burning herself a couple times, she was starting to get the hang of it. She had a very hard time wiping the smile off of her face after Harry taste tested each one and gave his seal of approval.

“Not bad, Baby Barista,” he complimented with a dimpled smile and a slight nod after she handed him what she believed was a caramel latte. She reveled in his praise, wanting to do her job well, but also loving his approval and the nickname he had now assigned to her.

They did this coffee lesson for a few more hours, as the shop slowed to almost a complete stop as they got closer to closing time. Isla had headed home and there were only a few stragglers left that had spent their days working or reading in the cafe as the sun began to set around 5pm, with closing at 6. Harry diligently continued to teach her as much as he could in one day as they began to close up the shop and get ready for the next day. He was easy to talk to and their conversation seemed to flow effortlessly as they swept and did dishes.

“So, what brought you to London?” he asked after a short lul, looking at her with an inquisitive look, the ever present dimple on his cheek and grin on his lips disarming her easily.

“Oh, you know,” she stumbled over her words slightly, “I just needed a fresh start.”

“No mysterious or heartbreaking backstory I need to know about?” he quipped, a questioning eyebrow perched on his forehead. She let out another loud laugh, deciding not to quiet herself this time as there was only one customer left in the store.

“No,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she swept. “I got dumped in a small town and needed to get away from them. It was like they were around every corner.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, but he just had a way of pulling the truth from her. “I always dreamed of living here and the breakup was the kick in the ass I needed to actually do it.”

“I’m glad you made it here, but I’m sorry about the breakup.”

“Don’t be,” she smiled. “Definitely for the best.”

“Okay, then I won’t be.” His eyes had a mischievous glint behind them, but she couldn’t exactly place what he was getting at.

They worked together in a comfortable silence after that, making sure everything was ready for the morning to come and clean from the day that was leaving. Y/N covered a yawn as Harry told her that she was done for the day.

As she clocked out and gathered her things, she heard Harry’s voice as she moved towards the exit. “Do you live close by? I can give you a ride if you need. Don’t want you having to walk too far in the dark.” His offer was sweet and made her smile.

“I’m pretty close and I like the walk.” She grabbed onto the handle of the front door but couldn’t make herself leave just yet. “Thank you for being so patient with me today, Harry,” she said looking back towards him and connecting their eyes. She tried to convey her emotions to him on her face, something she wasn’t always very good at.

“No problem. We’re happy to have you here, Baby Barista.”

With a final nod and a light flush to her cheeks, she set off down the street towards her new flat. It wasn’t a long walk, just long enough to get a little chill in her bones from the cold winter air and to turn her nose into a small icicle.

She reflected on her first day as she walked. She liked Isla, and really liked Harry. And while she was very busy, it was good busy, not the type of busy that depletes your energy and makes you want to fall over at the end of the day. It was a kind of busy that kept her on her toes, ready to learn, and develop a skill.

Her thoughts were broken through when she noticed the old beat up red car that seemed to be following her down the road. It drove slowly, as if it didn’t want it to see her, and took extra long at intersections like it was hoping to stay behind her. She took a turn she didn’t need to at the next block, and another after that, and when the car continued to follow, her heart began to race.

She thought about running, or going up to a pedestrian and asking for help; she even considered calling her mum just to stay on the phone with her until she got home. It wasn’t until she recognized the green eyes and dimples behind the wheel that her heart began to slow. She turned around fully then, making eye contact with the man who had been following her, and crossing her arms in front of her and shooting a questioning eyebrow up at him.

He wore a look of shame as his car slowed to a stop in the street next to her.

“Excuse me sir,” she said sarcastically, bending over to look in the window and get a better look at his embarrassed rosey cheeks. “Why were you following me?”

“I wasn’t being a creep, I promise,” he quickly defended. “This neighborhood gets a little dangerous at night and I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.” He looked panicked and frazzled, clearly not planning on being caught. It was the first time she had seen him without a smile on his face all day.

“Harry, you were the thing that was making me feel unsafe,” she said, playfully scolding him through giggles. She watched as his face fell in a flood of relief that she wasn’t angry with him. “If you told me that you were going to follow me home anyway, I would have taken the ride.”

“I’m sorry.” He hung his head and ran a stressed hand through his curls.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she smiled softly. “I appreciate you caring enough to make sure I got home.” She rested a hand on the passenger side door handle. “And now you’re going to drive me the rest of the way home to make up for making me get off my normal route,” she laughed as she pulled on the handle and settled herself into the passenger seat.

The car was old, but clean and it smelled like the cologne he wore that she had picked up on a few times throughout the day. He was quiet, hanging his head like a child who had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar, as she directed him towards her flat. “I’m sorry, again,” was all he said when he pulled up in front of the building.

“Don’t be,” she smirked, using the same words she had earlier in the day when discussing her breakup. She exited the car, giving him a wave, and a call of “I’ll see you tomorrow,” before entering the building and shutting the door behind her.

***

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Y/N became fast friends.

After about a week of begging, she finally broke down and allowed him to pick her up and drive her home from work every day. Their morning rides consisted of the perpetually peppy and excitable morning person in the driver's seat blabbering on about something he saw on the news while he was getting ready or going on about a new book he was reading, while she would settle her still sleepy head on the window and rest her eyes for just a few more minutes before their day was forced to begin. At the end of the day, Harry was the quiet one, letting her recount the day (usually complaining about unruly customers or people that would sit and steal their wifi all day without ordering anything), while he drove her at a painfully slow pace to her flat. He always waited until she got inside the building, even asking her to text him when she got inside her tiny flat.

“I just want to make sure you got inside safe,” he would argue when she teased him about it.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she would rebut.

“Then I’m not coming to help you anymore when you can’t figure out the milk steamer, Baby Barista.”

“Don’t threaten me with that stupid milk steamer. It has so many buttons you need to work for NASA to understand it,” she would groan, only to be met with a teasing glare from the curly man next to her. “Fine, I take it back,” she would always concede.

His protectiveness was not unwelcome to her. If she was being honest with herself, Harry was the only real friend she had made since she made the move to London and she was quickly becoming heart crushingly lonely. She took any care that anyone in the new and scary city was willing to give her with open arms.  

He was her only friend. They got on so well, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the extra few minutes she spent with him every morning and evening in the car. Maybe even a little too much.

At work, there was usually a chorus of laughter and giggles coming from their direction as Harry had taken her under his wing while she learned the ropes. There were days they would stay late after they had been off the clock making drinks over and over again; him patiently teaching, and her desperately trying to learn. There were definitely a few failures along the way, but they were always met with a teasing joke and then careful step-by-step directions on how she could fix it.

Technically Harry was her boss, store manager to be specific, but they worked alongside each other seamlessly, him never barking orders at her or using a harsh or authoritative tone.

Until today.

Y/N had been talking to one of their regulars, Robby, after she delivered an Americano to his table in the corner while it was particularly slow. Robby came in often, always shooting Y/N a bright smile and peppering compliments into their quick conversations. He was gorgeous, she couldn’t deny that; he had deep brown skin and an athletic build that she was sure was muscular under the thick sweater he was wearing to protect him from the cold. But he wasn’t her type, a little too arrogant and self-obsessed for her liking, always figuring out a way to turn their quick conversations back to himself. While it was fun to flirt with him, she knew it would never go any further than that.

“When do you get off?” Robby had asked suddenly, derailing their conversation away from the drink she had just delivered him. “I would love to take you out and see you in something other than that god awful apron.”

“Hey! I quite like my apron,” she playfully feigned offense, reaching to lightly swat him on the arm. “And while I appreciate your offer, I just got out of something pretty long term and I’m really not looking for anything right now. I’m sorry, Robby.” She forced a friendly pout onto her face, pretending like she was actually sorry for denying him.

Before he could respond, she heard an annoyed voice call her name from behind the counter. Whipping her head around to see who it was, she found Harry wearing an annoyed and frustrated face she had never seen him make before, especially not directed towards her. “We need some help back here. You have a job to do, remember?” he scolded, eyebrows furrowed and jaw steeled.

Her cheeks flushed white hot, embarrassed to be reprimanded like that in front of the whole shop. She hung her head in shame as she quickly walked back behind the counter. She was beyond embarrassed, suddenly uncomfortable in a place she had finally begun to come into her own in. She was learning and doing a good job, at least that was what she had been told, by both Isla and Harry; but the uneasy feeling in her stomach kept her from feeling comfortable for the rest of the day.

She carefully and quietly navigated behind the counter for the rest of her shift, sheepishly doing her best to stay out of her coworkers’ way and just do her job.

For the first time, she was slapped in the face with the reality that Harry wasn’t just her friend; he was her boss. He had an authority over her, and could probably get her in trouble with the owner, or even fired if he really wanted to. Navigating a business-like relationship was awkward and abnormal for them both, but Y/N decided she needed to learn how to quickly.

There was another reason his silent treatment seemed to hurt, one that Y/N had been trying her best to ignore. An undeniable crush had begun to build in her for the bright and bubbly man, despite however hard she had tried to fight it.

Harry made her feel safe, always keeping an eye out for her and trying to make sure she was alright. He made her laugh more than anyone she had ever known and their chemistry together felt electric. But what warmed her heart, and what now hurt the most, was that it felt like he cared about her just as much as she cared for him.

But now, it all felt like a fairytale she had built up in her head.

Their usual banter and giggles fell quiet for the rest of their day, reducing to curt directions from Harry and understanding hums from Y/N, following his orders without question or comment. Even Isla was quiet, not daring to breach the tension the pair had created between themselves.

The car ride home was quiet and strained that day.

But she still texted him when she was safe inside her flat.

***

While she had prayed that the next day would be like any other, their morning ride to work was filled with much of the same silence.

Harry fiddled with the heat and the radio in an effort to avoid her eyes or having to make conversation, eventually settling on a station that was playing old classic rock she didn’t recognize. He drove like she wasn’t even in the car, staring silently ahead at the road. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat fiddling with her fingers, not daring to get comfortable in a space that was all his.  

At work, they both held tight to the tension, only muttering at each other when absolutely necessary. She kept her head down and just did what she was told to do.

She was at the counter when a woman approached the coffee bar, seeming to bark her order for an extra hot cappuccino with extra foam at Y/N. Her face was twisted into an angry pout, like she had just smelled something bad, and spat her words out her words. Y/N just nodded and breathed a “yes, maam,” unable to fight with any nasty customers today while her head was so occupied with Harry. She was off her game.

The woman hovered at the counter, watching intensely and tapping her foot impatiently as Y/N fought with the dreaded milk steamer attachment to one of their large industrial machines. She would have sworn that she pressed the extra hot setting.

Passing the full mug to the woman at the register, Y/N watched as she took a long sip of the drink before paying, something that wasn’t really allowed, but Y/N just didn’t have the fight in her today to reprimand her.

“That will be £2,” Y/N spoke softly with as much sweetness as she could muster, afraid of what could come out of the woman’s mouth. She watched as her face turned even more sour than before after she finished the long drag from the cup.

“I’m not paying for this,” she declared, nose stuck high in the air.

“I’m sorry?” Y/N asked with confusion clear in her voice. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“It’s not extra hot and there is no extra foam.”

“Okay, I’m very sorry about that,” she said apologetically, even though she knew for a fact the drink had both of those things, and released an exhausted sigh. “I will make you another.”

The woman’s eyes flicked down the counter in Harry’s direction, rudely snapping her fingers at him to catch his attention. He was hunched over the back counter, somehow worsening his already terrible posture, trying to eat a sandwich as fast as he could before his break was over. “Are you her boss?” she shouted at him, even though he could have heard her without raising her voice at him.

Y/N’s eyes were already filled with anxiety when Harry connected his with her’s, seeming to wordlessly ask what was going on and Isla watched on in terror. She felt her body try to shrink away from the woman before her and Harry as he came closer.

“I’m the store manager. Is there something going on that I could help with?” His eyes kept flashing back and forth between Y/N and the woman, trying to decipher the situation without words.

“I want you to remake my drink.”

“I’m actually on a break-”

“No,” she cut him off mid-sentence. “If she makes my drink again, she is just going to fuck it up all over again. She’s obviously incompetent.”

Y/N eyes flew open at her words, a mix of shock and hurt running through her. With her heart beginning to race, never one for confrontation, she wanted to melt into the floor and disappear all together.

Harry’s face hardened at the woman as she hurled insults towards Y/N. Stepping in front of her, as if putting his body between her and the woman could protect her from her harsh words, he took a deep breath before he began to speak again. “First of all, you will not speak to anyone who works here like that,” he defended her. “Second, I’m sure she’s completely capable of making your drink again if you give her a moment.”

“I don’t want her to make it and I have places to be,” she continued to fight. “I don’t have time for some pathetic newbie to give it another try.”

Her comments hit Y/N hard in her existing feelings of inadequacy and before she knew it, her vision was beginning to blur. She felt like this woman was repeatedly kicking her while she was already down.

“You have to leave.”

Harry’s voice was angry. It wasn’t the frustration or annoyance she had heard the day before, and it was a far departure from the kind and patient tone she had grown to love since she began working at the shop. It was full of anger, something she had never heard from him and an emotion she hadn’t even been sure he could feel before this point.

“I’m not leaving until I get another drink that’s correct and free.”

“I will call the cops if you don’t leave right now.”

Y/N couldn’t stand to watch this unfold before her any longer. An anxious weight had settled on her chest and she had felt the tears begin to roll. She was gone from the counter, running towards the soundproof walk-in fridge in the back hall. She planned on shutting herself inside and sobbing until she froze.

She stood in the freezing chill, holding her arms tight to her frame, desperate to keep herself warm and shield herself from the wrath that was playing out in the cafe. The cold seemed to ground her and the distance she had put between herself and the woman eased her stress, but the tears continued to flow as her eyes ran over the stock of the fridge in an attempt to distract herself.

A knock came from outside the heavy metal door that startled her, a soft and patient voice that she knew so well called through. “Y/N, are you okay? Can I come in?”

After doing her best to wipe the tears off her raw and cold cheeks, she choked out a small “yes.”

The door carefully opened and she was met with a soft and empathetic gaze from the only person she wanted to comfort her. He breathed a soft “come here,” before he opened his arms wide. She bolted into them, letting his giant frame envelop her whole in the warmth that always radiated from him. Y/N let herself weep softly into his chest as the dizzying scent of his cologne took over her senses.

He held her close to him for a few moments, letting her get all her emotions out, before releasing her body and taking her face into his somehow still warm hands, using his thumbs to swipe away a few more tears that had managed to escape.

“I don’t think that I even messed her drink up,”she broke the silence, feeling pathetic as he held her in his hands.

“I know you didn’t. She won’t be coming back.”

“Thank you for defending me,” she said, hiccuping as she stared into his comforting eyes. “I feel so stupid. I’m sorry.” She went to pull away, but he continued to hold her close.

“No, this is all my fault,” he shook his head slightly, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “If I hadn’t been such a dick yesterday then none of this would have happened. I’m so sorry.” His eyes held honesty, determined to be granted absolution by the girl before him.

“I don’t like it when we don’t get along,” she squeaked. “I really don’t like it when you yell at me and make me feel like I’m not doing my job well.”

He sighed hard, his face looking like his brain was going a mile a minute. “I have to be honest with you,” he confessed. “I wasn’t acting like an asshole yesterday because you weren't doing your job; you were just doing fine. I was upset you were flirting with that guy.”

She felt her lips fall into a small ‘oh.’ While she hadn’t meant anything by what she thought was harmless flirting, Harry hadn’t known that. The frustration and annoyance she had heard was in actuality all jealousy.

“You were jealous?” she asked softly, bringing a hand up to hold over one of his own that were still holding her face.

“Well, yeah,” he said with an awkward shrug. “I just thought that there might be something between us.”

He looked so adorable like this, slightly uncomfortable and shy. She looked at him intensely as an excited bubble began to form in her stomach at the idea that this massive crush had been mutual the whole time.

“There is.”

She couldn’t hold back her smile any longer, a grin breaking out onto her face as she nodded at him. The cold of the fridge was no longer nipping at her skin, her whole body radiating a flattered and excited blush of heat. The screaming she had just endured felt long behind her although it had only been a few minutes.

He mirrored her giddy expression. She watched as all the tension in his face began to melt away in relief and it reminded her of the look on his face when she teased him after he followed her home that first day.

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed. “I was so worried that you were going to friendzone me forever.”

“I thought you were going to employee-zone me,” she chuckled.

“Are you going to kiss me or keep staring?”

A wide cheeky smile stretched across his lips, before she reached up and connected hers to his. The kiss was caring and sweet, but it felt like it sealed something she had been feeling since the first day they had met.

Their lips moved smoothly against each other, interrupted occasionally by a smile one of them couldn’t contain or a giggle that slipped from one of their mouths. She wasn’t nervous or overwhelmed by his proximity. She was so comfortable in his embrace. He was her best friend, after all.

They broke apart after a few moments, giant grins plastered on their faces that neither of them could manage to wipe away. “I liked that a lot,” Harry beamed, a boyish flush to his cheeks.

“Me too,” she mirrored him.

They spent a few more minutes in the fridge, swirling in a daze of infatuation and affection. “Do you think anyone heard us?” he asked softly, looking over towards the large metal door that had been left open a crack, before it flung open and they were met with a thrilled Isla.

“Yes, I heard you!” she exclaimed. “It’s about time!”

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback/Reblogs mean the world!! 

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harryandhockey #my writing #to lovers fic challenge

[scarofthewind]

The Lone Wolf || Werewolf!Thomas x Reader

A/N: Part three out of four to the slasher boys AU, link down below! I hope you are all doing well and yes requests are open for those who would like to throw something in there! I was today years old when I realized that Thomas Hewitt has blue eyes.

Warnings: NSFW, R18+, blood, gore, biting, breeding kink, wet & messy, squirting

word count: 3.1k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Series Masterlist

“You should eat something now that way it’s easier during the shift.” You spoke calmly to your lover who was busy testing out the chain that lined the basement; the chains that would prevent him from hurting you. His warm eyes looked over to you and he nodded, laying the metal links on the ground and following you upstairs. You watched him eye the locks on the door, checking to make sure they were strong enough, “You’ve checked them four times since this morning.” He looked at you and sighed, you could tell he was nervous, he always was on nights with a full moon. 

“If I get out and hurt you-” He started but you shook your head and cupped his face. 

“We’ve done this a million times and nothings happened.” He leaned into your touch, a glint of worry in his deep brown eyes. “Who knows, wolf you may not even try to eat me if you happen to escape.” Patting his cheek lightly, you turned and walked to the kitchen to make something to eat. Thomas mumbled something to himself before checking to make sure he had everything ready for the night. His senses were heightened and it was hard for him to not jump clear across the room and take you against the counter; balling his hands into fists, he went outside to calm his nerves, also making sure he had the backup trap ready if he happened to get out. You watched him from the kitchen window with a sorrowful look in your eyes. Before he met you he didn’t need to do this because he didn’t care what happened to the people around him; but you were different. 

When you met, he was shifted, dark brown wavy fur and sapphire eyes staring at you intrigued by what it saw. You were a mortified lone hiker that just witnessed a group of people being torn apart by something inhuman. But there was something, some force of fate that drew you together. He never hurt you in wolf form that day and you doubted that he would ever, but you didn’t want to take the slight chance that he might. 

When you both sat down for the early dinner, it was quiet between the two of you. The nerves and impulses emitting off of him made you chew your food quietly across the table. You barely had time to put the dishes in the sink before he went to the basement and you followed knowing it was you who had to chain him down. Thomas hated making you do it but the chains being made of silver burned him a lot less if he wasn’t the one handling them. No words were spoken as he stripped out of his clothes, throwing them in a heap across the room, and sat down in the middle of the cold floor. 

“I hate this,” you said quietly, locking the chains around his feet, moving towards his hands. He cupped your face gently, giving you a knowing look. Continuing with his restraints, you cuffed his wrists and then put the last one around his neck. “This is animal abuse,” you joked and he quirked a lip at your comment, hiding a smug smile. 

Before he could open his mouth, he grimaced, grunting in pain as it ripped through him, something was off about this shift and it bothered him. Thomas quickly looked at you, “Go to the guest house.” 

You frowned, “Why? Is everything okay?” He wouldn’t look you in the eye as you asked and you bent down in front of him. His eyes were already that bright golden color you secretly loved. 

“Go, I’ll come get you in the morning. Make sure to hide your scent just inc-” He stuttered when a loud crack came from his back and he clawed at the ground in pain. “Go now!” He yelled and you jumped, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before running out of the basement. Thomas could hear you running around upstairs and then the front door slam shut as you left the house. Everything in him burned with a fire he didn’t recognize and it scared him. 

“This isn’t right,” he groaned as another spike of pain rushed through him and everything started to go black as the beast took over. He could only pray as he was closing his eyes that you would be safe.

Of course as you were in a rush to leave, you forgot to wear stuff that smelt like him. You didn’t realize your mistake until you reached the guest house, locking the door behind you and hiding in the bathroom. You could hear loud howls coming from the house and it made you shiver, knowing that he’d somehow gotten out. You tried to think of how he could’ve but the longer you thought it over the more confused you got. You’d locked every door and chained him up; the shift had happened quicker than before though and he had a look in his eyes that told you something wasn’t right. 

A howl echoed through the woods near the guest house and you held your breath, sinking down into the bathtub and turning the lights off. The sound of the front door crashing open had your heart racing in your chest. You could hear the scuffling of paws on the floor as they neared the bathroom, a sniffing sound coming from under the door followed by a low growl. Everything went quiet for a second before a large hole was scratched through the door and you scooted far away in the tub. You whimpered, hearing the beast growl, it’s eyes meeting yours from the other side of the door. That’s when your heart stopped and everything you thought you knew about what he was flew out the window. 

His eyes were blood red and glowing through the opening. The beasts mouth and snout were already covered in blood and the way it licked it’s lips you knew you were next. The window to the bathroom was already opened a smidge and before you could blink, your body moved on its own to get there. Your mind raced as you heard the door being ripped apart behind you, your feet pushing you to climb up onto the roof above you. You knew he wouldn’t fit through the window because of how big he was so you had an advantage getting up there. Just as you were about to climb fully onto the scratchy roof, a searing pain came from your leg and you tried your best to kick him off. 

Tears welled in your eyes and you pushed yourself up, getting your leg away from the beasts mouth and limping over to the chimney, sitting against it for a second to examine the wound. A sob escaped your lips as you looked at it, knowing damn well what it meant. You tried your best to stop the bleeding but the moment you put pressure on the wound you cried out in pain. You could hear him down below, tearing everything to shreds and growling loudly. You knew if you didn’t fix the wound soon you’d have more bad damage than good by morning but going down to face that monster was not something you wanted to do. 

A loud scratching came from the end of the roof behind you and you froze mortified that the creature was able to simply jump that high. There was a huff behind the chimney you were leaned against and a deep growl made the hair on your arms raise. “Thomas,” you cried, the wolf sniffing around the corner towards you. “Thomas please don’t,” you winced trying to move your leg towards you. “You’ll never forgive yourself,” you closed your eyes for a second, trying your best to calm yourself as the wolf came to stand in front of you. 

When you opened your eyes to look at the monster, you let out a sigh of relief seeing those sapphire eyes staring at you softly. There was a sense of guilt behind them and before you could open your mouth, your wounds were being treated to as the animals licked them carefully. “You didn’t recognize me,” you stated, realizing that was why it attacked. Maybe your scent wasn’t enough for the wolf to remember you; you were thankful your voice was what clicked for him. 

A soft sound of bones shifting made you look up to the man in front of you. Thomas’ eyes were wet as he faced the one thing he always feared; he’d hurt you. “I did this,” he frowned at his own words, examining your wounds and setting your leg down gently. His eyes met yours and you felt your heart ache. “I would’ve killed you, (Y/N),” he tried backing away but you grabbed him and used his sturdy body to pull yourself closer to him. 

“You didn’t realize it was me, Thomas. I’m fine,” You replied, cupping his face gently and watching his eyes flicker before settling with their natural color. 

“Don’t do that,” his voice broke, “Don’t act like this is okay, I bit you, you know damn well what that means.” He groaned, moving out of your grasp. 

“I do but I don’t care. Something was off about this shift, we both felt it but we couldn’t predict this would happen-”

“It wanted to kill you, even after smelling that it was you. What the fuck is wrong with me?” He grimaced, moving away from you. 

“Thomas stop,” you hissed when you tried to move, catching his attention for a second. “We’ll figure out what went wrong in the morning,” your heart ached when he shook his head, pulling at his roots. 

“I love you,” you cried, your heart breaking in your chest for him and the fear of him pushing you away, “Don’t force me out, I don’t know what to do without you,” Thomas whined at your words and seeing the tears fall from your eyes made him pull you against his chest, rubbing your head softly as he hugged you. “Don’t tell me to leave because I won’t.” You sniffled, gripping is shoulders tightly as he helped you stand. 

His chest rumbled with a growl at the thought of you leaving him, the possessiveness of the wolf inside him coming out. When he looked down at you and pressed his lips to yours, you could almost feel the grief inside him; you knew he’d blame himself until the end of time for hurting you. With ease, Thomas helped you back to the comfort of your home, making sure to take good care of your wound. He spent nearly an hour on it, being sure that it was clean and that it would heal nicely. When he was done wrapping it in gauze, he watched the way your eyes slowly closed, sleep starting to take over your mind. 

Shuffling you around on the couch, he laid with you pressed into his chest, not daring to turn again for the fear of his other half going rogue. 

He didn’t sleep.

***

You woke up around four in the morning, the small amount of light in the sky starting to brighten the living room. You could feel Thomas’ grip on you tighten when you moved your head up to look at him. His eyes were on yours in a second and he frowned, “Is it hurting?” He referred to your leg. Shaking your head you nuzzled his neck, breathing him in. 

“You didn’t shift again?” Your fingers danced across his bare skin, reminding yourself that he was nude. “You were stronger this time if you managed to break through all those chains and get past your traps outside,” you said quietly. 

“I didn’t recognize you, that’s not right, something had to have been off.” He replied; you could feel his heart ache. “I don’t know what to do,” he sighed, moving to sit up and rubbing his face with his hands. 

“Hey,” you sat up with him and cupped his face in your hands. “We have a month until the next turn, we will figure it out before then. Don’t worry about it,” his eyes stared into yours and he nodded, resting his forehead against yours. “Love you,” you said softly, watching his eyes crinkle as a small smile formed on his face. 

“Love you too.” Thomas pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your lips, a familiar feeling buzzing through him at god-speed. If there was one thing you both enjoyed about his shift, it was the sex. It was hot, messy and always left you bedridden for a couple of days; the last time it got out of hand and the bed broke, much to your genuine shock. Before he could pull away, you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving to sit in his lap. Thomas’ hands went to your waist and he groaned at the feeling of you grinding down on his slowly hardening member. “You’re hurt,” he grunted against your mouth as he moved to lay you on your back, moving between your legs. 

“I’m fine, I need you, Thomas,” you moaned when his lips went to your neck, immediately finding your sensitive spot and sucking on it. Your hands ran through his dark, curly hair, tugging gently on the roots as his hips worked against yours. The feeling of his hardened member against your thigh made you shiver. You paused to sit up and rid yourself of your bottoms, eager to feel his cock deep inside you. You made sure to be careful around your leg, slipping your pants and underwear off and letting them fall to the floor. 

Thomas made quick work of your shirt and bra, leaving your breasts open for him to fondle. Your nipple hardened against his touch and he brought one into his mouth, lightly nipping at it. The feeling of your bare cunt dragging across his cock made you moan lightly, your juices already spreading along his shaft. The side of your neck where he’d bit you to show that you were bonded to him for life, slowly burned with a feverish desire. Thomas’ hands left your chest, moving between your lower halves and tapping your thigh for you to sit up for a second. His hand gripped the base of his cock, directing the tip to your entrance before you sunk down on him. Your legs shook by the time you were fully seated on it, he was far deeper than you were used to and the feeling made your head buzz. 

Any other time of the month, Thomas was usually quiet when having sex. However, the minute his shift appears, he’s much louder. Possessive growls and rougher grips on your body, make it that much easier for your pussy to spasm around his cock multiple times. A sharp buck of his hips made you grip onto him quickly, rolling your hips in time with his movements. Tilting your chin up, Thomas pressed his lips against yours, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he moved faster, pushing you down on your back before leaning over you and thrusting like a mad man. 

His mouth never left your skin, littering it with bruises and small bite marks that you knew would heal over time. When he moved to your neck, his teeth grazed the bite mark that bonded you, the scars were pale against your skin. His tongue laved over them, easing your mind before his teeth pressed into the wound. You winced, a small whine escaped your lips but the way your cunt tightened around his cock gave him the okay to keep going. Sinking his teeth in further to re-puncture the old scar, he fucked you deeper, moving your legs around to hit that one spot inside you that had you seeing stars. 

The obscene amount of noise that was coming from your lower half made you flush, your juices running down the curve of your legs and ass, onto the couch below. A low growl came from the man as he removed his teeth from your mark, licking the blood off his lips and your skin before hiking your legs up to the one position that really made your pussy drench his cock. Your knees were practically by your ears as Thomas split your open, his cock thrusting into you at a steady but rough pace. “Cum inside me please,” you begged, looking up at him through watery lashes, the pleasure making everything intense. “I want your children, Thomas. Please, cum inside me,” you whimpered when he groaned deeply, his cock twitching inside you. 

The simply thought of you being pregnant with his children made his heart flutter. His eyes focused on the way your pussy was creaming around his cock and the sight of his member bulging your stomach every time he moved. With rough fingers, he moved his hand to your clit, rubbing tight little circles around the hardened bud and watching you squirm. 

It didn’t take long before the white hot pleasure of euphoria shook through you, your body convulsing for a second as he fucked you through your first orgasm of the night. “That’s my girl, can you cum again for me?” His voice made you shiver and you nodded as your thighs shook. He leaned his weight down a bit more and you knew exactly what he was trying to do the minute he did that. 

“It’s going to make a mess,” you warned, looking at him as he smirked cheekily. “You’re cleaning the couch then,” you moaned as a particularly hard thrust made your cervix throb in pain. The way Thomas’ voice grew louder made it a sign to you that he was close and you wanted nothing more than for him to pump you full. Pressing his mouth to yours, he growled at the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him in. He moved his fingers back to your clit and worked his magic, leaving you a trembling mess as he brought you close to the edge again. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He asked, watching you nod before he rubbed your clit harshly, your walls tightening around him to the point where he was cumming within seconds. The feeling of his cock being drenched by your quivering little hole made him pull back for a second and watch as you squirted around him. Thomas let out a groan as he let out everything he had, watching your stomach bulge slightly before he let you move your legs down. 

“I hope this time it works,” you panted, referring to the cum sticking to your inside walls. Thomas chuckled, pressing open mouth kisses along your face before connecting his lips with yours. “I love you, Thomas.” You said gently, looking up into the deep blue eyes you adored so much. 

“I love you too,” He replied, kissing you once more.

#thomas hewitt x reader #Thomas Hewitt #tcm #TCMB #leatherface #leatherface x reader #texas chainsaw the beginning #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #😈.smut #🏵.original work #horror imagines #horror x reader #slasher x reader #slasher imagines

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hematoma of the heart

Octoberfest 9: Wound reveal (whumptober #30)

Hitting the tree is more surprising than painful. A strange shock goes through Jaskier’s entire body when it happens, a litany of unspoken no no no through him as his side slams into the wood and he topples to the ground. For a moment he can’t see, can barely even think, just feeling a dizzying sense of wrongness that makes his skin buzz with anxiety. 

Then, finally, the pain does come to him, bursting from his ribs. If his breath hadn’t already been crushed from his lungs, he would have wheezed at the intensity of it. He lies there for a long moment, curled into a protective ball and trying to get his chest to expand beyond the jagged feeling in his ribs. Through bleary eyes, he can see that Geralt is still fighting the fiend, twisting and rolling deftly around it. That’s good, Jaskier thinks. Gives him some time to sort this out. 

The fiend hadn’t even really been paying him any mind, which was almost more embarrassing. Jaskier had gotten in the way, a bit, though it wasn’t really anyone’s fault that the fight stumbled its way so close to his hiding spot. Normally Geralt would never allow Jaskier to tag along to a fight this dangerous, but as usual trouble found them. Geralt had picked up the smell of the fiend on the breeze, and the noble bastard hadn’t been able to leave well enough alone. His stubborn bravery and selflessness is one of the many reasons Jaskier loves the man, but at this exact moment he finds himself wishing that, for once, they’d just kept out of it. 

After a long moment of lying still and trying to gather his wits, Jaskier slowly sits up. He leans his back against the offending tree and tries to stay as still as possible, not wanting to draw the fiend’s attention or break Geralt’s stride. Mentally he takes inventory. Toes and fingers wriggle when he tests them, so that’s good. No pain in his neck, though it radiates out from his left side and across his back like a sunburst. When he sticks a hand against his shirt he doesn’t feel the wet, tacky sensation of blood, so aside from a few abrasions it looks like he’s escaped with his skin intact. 

Jaskier knows his ribs are bruised, maybe even slightly broken, but overall it’s not as bad as it could be. Jaskier watches as Geralt’s sword descends into the neck of the fiend, a hot spray of blood splashing across the ground and Geralt’s face. The second the beast falls to the ground, Geralt looks up and finds Jaskier’s gaze, his own eyes wild.

Jaskier realizes two things at once. One: Geralt is going to be livid if Jaskier was hurt during a fight, and there’s a very great chance that it will make him not want to take Jaskier on hunts in the future. He’ll say that Jaskier is at risk and is a risk himself, likely to cause Geralt to get distracted and wind up with one of them dead. Never mind that Geralt often needs help after a hard fight, might not be able to make it back on his own or just needs a hand patching up the worst of his wounds. Never mind that Jaskier hates being left behind, hates sitting in a cold, empty camp or inn waiting to see if Geralt will come back this time. Never mind that Jaskier’s entire supposed reason for being here is to get first hand experience of what monster hunting is really like, even if that maybe isn’t so much the reason he’s so dedicated to the Path anymore. 

And two: Geralt will blame himself. 

Jaskier decides, in the span of a second, that he’s not going to say anything. It’s not so bad, after all. How hard could it be to keep a few bruised ribs to himself? 

In the time it takes for him to determine this course of action, Geralt is upon him. He doesn’t touch - Jaskier touches Geralt. Geralt does not touch back, unless it’s to manhandle Jaskier out of danger. Jaskier tries not to think too hard about why this is. Geralt looks at him, his eyes intense but unreadable as always, and Jaskier takes a steadying breath that makes his ribs ache. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, almost more of a grunt than a name. He’s only breathing a bit more heavily than normal, as if he’d just been on a light morning jog. “You alright?”

Jaskier nods, forcing himself to climb unsteadily to his feet. The movement is agony, his back screaming as his muscles shift and stretch. He bites his cheek, forcing himself not to gasp or wince. The pain isn’t sharp, just pulsing, which is a good sign. He thinks. “All accounted for,” he says to Geralt, hoping that his voice doesn’t sound too strained. 

With another human, Jaskier doesn’t think he’d have been able to get away with it. No one would be able to get thrown against a tree with such force and pop back up perfectly alright. But Geralt isn’t human, and over the years of traveling together, Jaskier has realized that Geralt knows fuck all about how much humans can withstand. He is both terrified of their fragility and entirely unaware of their limits. He grew up around witchers and has never stuck around any human beings long enough to figure out what really could hurt them. Jaskier thinks, sometimes, that maybe Geralt doesn’t touch him because he’s afraid Jaskier will break. But then Jaskier falls from a horse or gets punched in the jaw or stumbles over the side of a small ravine and Geralt will act surprised when Jaskier’s ankle is twisted or his face is bruised. The witcher just has no idea what will actually cause damage and what Jaskier can walk away from.

So Jaskier plasters on his most convincing court mask and gives Geralt a winning smile, and he knows he’s won when Geralt gives an almost imperceptible shrug. Jaskier watches his shoulders drop ever so slightly, his expression loosening just a fraction. Jaskier drinks up Geralt’s worry like a man drowning of thirst, but he’s still relieved when Geralt turns back towards the fiend. If Geralt knew he was really hurt, his tender concern over Jaskier’s well being would morph into guilt and anger, and that’s the last thing Jaskier wants. So he forces himself to follow after Geralt, and he doesn’t even limp. 

Jaskier does not limp as they set up camp that night, or as he follows Geralt to town the next day, or over the course of the next week on the road. It’s probably making the healing process longer than it needs to be, he knows, but he’s in too deep now to back down. And if he winces occasionally when he’s getting up in the morning, stiff and sore and aching, or if he sucks in a breath to hide a yelp when someone brushes past his wounded shoulder in an inn, Geralt doesn’t seem to notice. Jaskier changes when Geralt leaves for breakfast or to take a piss or to bathe and he thinks he does an okay job, overall, of hiding it. It hurts in another way, deep in his gut, that Geralt doesn’t say anything. Jaskier doesn’t want him to say anything, doesn’t want him to know, but in another way he does. He really does. He wants Geralt to find out and be upset because he cares about Jaskier, cares about his well being and whether he’s in pain. He wants the full force of those golden eyes on him with total attention, those broad hands running across his flank to search for damage. Jaskier wants. 

Maybe that’s why he lets his guard down. Or maybe he’s just healing nicely, and so for a few hours Jaskier just… forgets. They’re in a tavern, stopped in a small town a week and a half away from the fiend encounter, and Jaskier is a bit drunk. He’s been playing, for the first time since he was thrown into that tree, and it felt so good he got a bit lost in it. The crowd was small but invested, lively and eager for entertainment, and Jaskier had been passed more than a couple of tankards. Geralt had watched it all unfold with mild amusement, matching Jaskier cup for cup but barely tipsy by the end of the night. Jaskier had stumbled up the stairs with Geralt close on his heels, likely making sure he didn’t tumble back down the steps. He isn’t that drunk, truly. Barely wobbling as he’d made his way into the room. But as he tugs off his boots now and tosses aside his doublet, he’s drunk enough that he forgets, for the first time in a week, that he’s got something to hide. He turns away from Geralt and unbuttons his shirt, yawning around some garbled sentence about how many ales he’s had. The fabric has barely left his shoulders when he hears Geralt make a strangled sound, and turns to find himself nose to nose with the witcher. 

“Uh,” he says, articulately, and hisses as Geralt’s fingers come up to prod his side. Oh, right. Fuck. He’d been doing so well. 

“What the fuck is this?” Geralt asks, and his voice comes out as a low, warning growl that Jaskier feels in his toes. It’s threatening, he reprimands himself. Geralt is scary when he’s mad. Not hot. Scary. “Jaskier,” Geralt says, and Jaskier snaps back to the moment. 

“I’m fine,” Jaskier says, too quickly. He’s trying to pull his shirt back up to cover up the canvas of blue-purple-yellow that’s scattered across his ribs and shoulder, but Geralt’s hands are in the way. He must be truly surprised, to break his own rules about personal space like this. “I fell, it looks worse than it is. Nothing to be concerned about, truly, I don’t even think my ribs took too much damage -”

“When?” Geralt says. His tone and his hands are demanding, pulling Jaskier’s arm up away from his body so Geralt can get a closer look. Jaskier feels himself flush under his touch, and he’s annoyed at himself for it. 

“Uh, a - a week ago? Around then? It’s been a few days.”

Geralt looks away from the bruises, his eyebrows pinched together. His golden eyes are intense, searching Jaskier’s face for a lie. There’s a moment of quiet between them, Geralt thinking with his hand spread across Jaskier’s ribs, and then his face softens with surprise. “The fiend hunt,” he says, and then his face shutters into that expression, furious and guilty, that Jaskier was trying to avoid this whole damn time. 

“I was fine,” he tries to say, but Geralt is already growling at him. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, Jaskier?” he snaps. Gentle-rough hands push Jaskier down onto the one bed in the room. They’d decided to share, to save money. Always to save money. Geralt starts pacing, not an aimless trek but a journey around the room, pulling various supplies out of their scattered bags. “You could have died. What if your lung had been punctured? Or your kidney ruptured?” A jar and a roll of bandages are thrown down by Jaskier’s side, and the bard winces at the sharp movement. Geralt stops in front of him, fists clenched at his side, glaring down at Jaskier’s face. Accusation in every line of his body. 

Jaskier sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, not bothering to hide the wince as it pulls at his side. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he says, and his voice is smaller than he’d like it to be. He didn’t do anything wrong, really. Geralt isn’t entitled to know of Jaskier’s every scrape and bruise. Yet Jaskier feels guilty regardless. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The fiend was there, so was I, I ended up fine! I’ll be better in another week or less.”

Geralt looks away, jaw clenching as he studies the far side of the room with intense scrutiny. Without looking back, he says, “You should have told me.” 

Before Jaskier can respond, Geralt turns and gathers up the supplies on the bed and sits down beside him. The lid of the jar pops off, releasing a cool, minty smell into the air. “Lift your arm up,” Geralt says gruffly, and Jaskier does. He can only go up so far without pain, so he rests his forearm on Geralt’s shoulder, suddenly aware that he’s bare from the waist up and Geralt is still fully dressed. It makes him feel off balance and short of breath, for some reason. A moment later Geralt’s fingers are smoothing lightly over his ribs, rubbing whatever salve was in the jar across Jaskier’s bruises. The gentle touch steals the rest of the air from Jaskier’s lungs.

Jaskier lets Geralt work on him in silence, the minutes stretching out silently between them. He’s not sure what to say - how to tell Geralt that he didn’t want him to be mad without sounding like a child, how to make Geralt feel less guilty without being patronizing. Jaskier never quite knows how to manage Geralt’s emotions, not like he does everyone else’s. A crowd, a pretty barmaid, a professor at Oxenfurt, all of these are easy to push and pull where he pleases. Easy to predict. Geralt… isn’t. He digs in his heels when Jaskier tries to lead him, closes himself off when Jaskier tries to get a peak under the mask. Geralt is, Jaskier thinks, perhaps one of the most complicated people Jaskier’s ever met. He knows that’s part of the draw. But it’s frustrating in moments like these, when Jaskier wants so badly to say just the right thing to make Geralt’s shoulders relax, to make the deep frown marring his lovely mouth loosen into a smile. He thinks he could figure it out, given enough time. If Geralt will let him. 

When Geralt finally moves to face away from him, to attend to his back, Jaskier speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he forces his voice to be steady and firm. “I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want you to feel bad for not - That is, I don’t blame you. And I didn’t want to slow you down.”

Geralt's hands still on his back, his warm palm burning where it rests on Jaskier’s shoulder blade. It’s so hot in the room, sweat prickling against Jaskier’s brow, and Geralt’s hand doesn’t move. “I don’t care if you slow me down,” Geralt grunts. Jaskier can feel his breath on the nape of his neck, and he can’t suppress a shiver. Geralt must notice, but he doesn’t comment. 

“You very much do,” Jaskier argues, irritated. “You remind me on a near nightly basis that if I’m not up when the sun is you’ll leave me behind. I don’t even bother to ask for a break anymore because you never fail to remind me that it’s my choice to be here. And it is, I know that. I’ll keep up, and if I can’t I’ll take my leave. You’ve made it quite clear that the onus of responsibility rests with me, and I accept that.”

From this close Jaskier can nearly hear Geralt grinding his teeth together. “Not at the expense of your health,” he says, and he sounds properly angry now. “Fuck, Jaskier, you can’t think I’d - That I wouldn’t wait, that I’d leave you behind when you were hurt. You could have fucking died, if it’d been more serious. You couldn’t have known that it wasn’t, right away. What if I’d woken up the next day and you’d choked to death on your own blood in your sleep? What if you’d -” He cuts himself off.

Now Jaskier turns to face him, shocked by the display of emotion, feeling Geralt’s hand shift across his back. Geralt looks away from him, hiding, but the expression that Jaskier catches on his face is… pained. As if it would truly hurt him, to see Jaskier damaged beyond repair. Hesitantly, Jaskier reaches out and touches Geralt’s knee. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t think of it that way. I just didn’t want you to take it personally.”

Geralt’s eyes meet his again, smouldering in the low light. Jaskier suddenly remembers that he’s a bit drunk, and they’re so, so close together. The space between them is warm, and Geralt’s hand slowly slides down his back to rest at Jaskier’s hip. “I always take it personally when it comes to you,” Geralt says. Jaskier breathes out shakily. Geralt reaches out with his other hand and gently grasps Jaskier’s elbow, making Jaskier’s fingers press more firmly into his knee. “Tell me next time,” Geralt says. And then, “Please.”

Jaskier is powerless to refuse him anything in this moment, so he says, “Alright. I will. Just don’t leave me behind.”

“I won’t,” Geralt says softly. “I won’t. I promise.” Something tense releases in Jaskier, because Geralt is not frivolous with his words and a promise means something coming from him. He won’t leave Jaskier behind. 

“Well good,” Jaskier says, and smiles easily at him. His side feels better now with the salve and the fuzzy layer of alcohol in his system, and every part of him touching Geralt is tingling pleasantly. It’s a lot of parts, he realizes giddily. He’s nearly in Geralt’s lap, held close by Geralt’s hands in something that’s nearly an embrace, and Geralt’s lips are right there. All Jaskier would have to do is lean forward just a smidge, press them together gently, soft as a feather -

Geralt’s eyes flicker to his mouth, and Jaskier flushes hot all over. Gods. Just a look and he feels undone. 

But before he can do anything, Geralt is up and halfway across the room, tucking the jar away like nothing had happened. Jaskier lets out a breath that’s equal parts disappointment and relief. A moment later Geralt is back at his side, holding the roll of bandages. 

“This will keep you from pulling them while they heal,” Geralt says gruffly, and Jaskier obediently raises his arms up as much as he can. Geralt wraps up his ribs efficiently, and it does feel a little more stable. It will help him sleep, at the very least. Just before he wraps the light gauze around Jaskier’s shoulder, Geralt leans in and drags in a deep breath. 

Jaskier splutters. “Are you sniffing me, Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt huffs out an amused breath against his skin. “Checking for infection. You don’t smell sweet, so you’re probably alright.”

“I smell plenty sweet,” Jaskier gripes. Geralt finishes the bandages, tying them off neatly. Jaskier feels compressed, a bit, but it’s for the best. 

“You smell like ale,” Geralt says with a raised eyebrow. “And the salve. And that lavender soap I hate.”

“You only hate it the first day I use it,” Jaskier points out. The smell is too strong for Geralt to abide by. Jaskier tries not to use it unless they’ll be apart for a day or so. He’d bathed with it the day after the hunt, hoping that the intensity of it would mask anything else Geralt might scent on him. Pain, or distress. Geralt had supported a pinched look of annoyance for a full half a day.

“Go to sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt says, and it sounds annoyed and fond at the same time in equal measure, which Jaskier wouldn’t have said was possible before he met Geralt. The most complicated man he’d ever met. “You need to rest.”

“Up at dawn?” Jaskier guesses, shucking off his pants and settling under the covers. Geralt removes his own boots and pants and crawls in on the other side, settled between Jaskier and the door. Jaskier’s not sure if it’s to protect him or to keep him from running off. As if he ever would. 

“We’ll leave when you're ready,” Geralt says, snuffing out the candle flickering on the bedside dresser. In the darkness, Jaskier hears, “I’ll wait for you.”

For once Jaskier has nothing else to say to that, so he settled down into the covers and plans to sleep past noon.

#whumptober2020 #whumptober #whump #no. 30 #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #october2020 #my work #fic #writing