#m; f. goode \ relationships: marie

[porcelainseashore]

Heavenly Creatures

Pairing: Altar Boy! Leon Kennedy x Catholic School Girl! Reader

Summary: Growing up in a conservative, Catholic community, you and Leon were kept apart as kids for your own good. However, a fateful encounter at church many years later causes you to question those boundaries.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (f receiving), semi-public sex (church), Catholicism, religious imagery & symbolism, temptation, guilt, shaming, name-calling, growing up, smoking, swearing, romance, fluff, secret relationship.

Authors' Note: Leon and Reader are in senior high and 18 when smut happens. No guarantee that you won’t burn in hell after reading this 🔥😂

Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for being my sounding board + shadesoflsk & Cameron for your helpful feedback.

AO3 Link

Snake. Devil. Satan’s spawn.

Those were the names you had grown accustomed to as a child. You didn’t know why you were called them, instead of the one your parents had given you. You were too little to understand. All you knew was that you were made to feel different. Maybe you were really an anomaly from the rest after all.

Instead of being quiet and shy, you were loud and boisterous. It was natural for you, seeing as you were going through your tomboy phase, which was the exact reason your parents had stuck to when they received complaints about your behavior. They laughed it off, while others reigned their daughters in, forcing them into perfect Sunday dresses, braided hair adorned with pastel ribbons and clean, black Mary Jane shoes. Good enough to fit into a pretty gift box with wrapping paper. But you would tear it all down, before anyone could lay a finger on you.

Growing up in a place where other children were told to shun you was difficult at first. But then, you learnt to play by yourself and relish in the power of make believe. You climbed trees, rolled in the mud and ran through the forest fending off imaginary monsters. Sometimes, when you bumped into other groups of boys who threw stones and made fun of you, you fought back, further earning the title of crazy witch! Who needed these idiots anyway? You were your own best company.

One day, you sat in your disheveled, cream cotton dress, swinging your legs from a tree in your front lawn as usual. It overlooked the suburban neighborhood street, giving you a bird’s eye view of your surroundings. You noticed a family of three strolling along the sidewalk, though the couple gave you a disapproving look as they walked past, and whispered to their little, adolescent boy. They thought they were being so discreet, but you could hear every single word they were saying.

“Don’t pay attention to her. She’s bad news.”

Regardless of this remark, the boy gave in to his curiosity and as he peered up, you held his wide-eyed gaze. His irises were azure in color, glowing as it caught the early dusk light from different angles, shifting across a stunning spectrum of bluish, iridescent hues. You were captivated by them, and as you continued staring, his cheeks turned rosy red, though it seemed like he could not break away from you either. That moment was abruptly cut short, as his father smacked the back of his head, chiding his son for disobeying him.

“Come along now, Leon.” The older man wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him away from your direction.

Leon. So, that was his name. As you watched them turn the corner at the end of the street and head off, you wondered if and when you’d see him again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had heard the stories passed around about you. His parents had often commented about your family as being one of those ‘weird, hippy types’. Frankly, this didn’t scare him, but rather, it fascinated him. They made you appear like something he had read in a book about myths and legends, and he wanted to see if it was real.

The next time he went out to play in the field, he walked by your place again on purpose, even though it would have been the longer route. As he had predicted, you were up in the tree again, lounging across its branches with your eyes closed, like a slithery snake basking in the sun. Your dress was stained with grass and dirt, and your feet were soiled and filthy. Twigs poked out haphazardly from your knotted, messy hair. 

You looked like a creature of sorts, alright, he thought.

He inched towards the base of the tree trunk gingerly, trying not to stir the sleeping beast. But as he got closer, he accidentally stepped into a pile of dead leaves, which crunched underfoot. 

You roused from your slumber then, rubbing your eyes as you stretched your arms out with a lazy yawn. He flinched when you looked downwards at him, as if you might strike out, but you just smiled and said, “Hi.”

He was confused then. From the descriptions of you, he had expected you to breathe fire and gnash your teeth at him fiercely, but you were just a normal girl. He gave you a puzzled look, nodding as he greeted you with a stutter, “Hi… I-I’m, uh, Leon.”

“I know.” You grinned.

“You do?” He looked astounded, as if you’d conducted some dark ritual to find out.

You picked up on this and teased him, wiggling your fingers as you mouthed, “Magic…”

He laughed, relaxing his stiff shoulders and asking you for your name. He’d only known you until now as that girl, or one of those nicknames people gave you out of spite.

You introduced yourself and offered him a half-eaten apple you had munched on before napping on the tree. He hesitated at first, regarding it as if it were a forbidden fruit, but eventually he reached out for it. Gratefully, he bit in, savoring the flavorful burst of its juicy flesh.

“Do you go to church?” He asked suddenly, out of the blue.

Shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun with your hand, you squinted at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh.” He paused, considering his next words, though he blurted out with unfiltered honesty, “Well, my dad said that demons can’t enter hallowed ground.”

“I’m not a demon,” you huffed indignantly.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed, waving his hands in the air apologetically, trying to salvage the situation. “I think you’re nice, actually.” His face was warm and pink again.

“I think you’re nice too.”

And it continued on like this. Some days, he’d pop over to visit and speak with you from below the tree, when he was sure no one was watching. Until a day came where he wasn’t as careful, and was spotted by a concerned neighbor, who ratted him out to his parents. 

You were sad that he wasn’t allowed to see you again, but you’d grown used to being alone for most of your childhood, so you tried to put it behind you and move on, unaware that he’d often look out for you at each week’s Sunday Mass.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A number of years passed, and you filled out into your own body. You were in your senior year of an all-girls Catholic high school, and had recently turned 18. Reaching womanhood also meant that you became acutely aware of the changes in the way society treated you now, as compared to the opposite sex. Heads turned as you stalked around with one of the more unruly cliques in your school. Instead of being name-called after otherworldly creatures, you were reduced to bitch, slut, or whore. 

People hated what they couldn’t understand or control. You’d been giving the nuns a hard time by asking controversial questions about the biblical text you were meant to study and recite blindly. Detention was nothing new to you and your friends, whom you’d been caught smoking cigarettes together with on school grounds. You were a rebel at heart, and the rest of the law-abiding community wanted to crush that and make you conform.

Leon, on the other hand, had been going to the all-boys school next door, which shared a brother school relationship with yours. He was in the same year and age as you, though being a man meant he had the privilege of getting away with certain things you couldn’t. Even there, your name wasn’t safe from being circulated around the rumor mill. You were the subject of boys’ locker room talk. They associated you with the ‘bad girl’ crowd, highlighting your love for reading banned books and boasting about supposed sexual escapades with you. 

“She’ll do favors,” they said, making vulgar gestures by moving their fist back and forth in front of their mouth, while poking their tongue against their cheek.

Leon slammed his locker door shut and stormed off. It made him uncomfortable that they gossiped about you that way, but he was even more ashamed of the fact that he made no effort to stand up for you. He hardly knew you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that what they were doing was finding a scapegoat to blame. That, unfortunately, time and time again, happened to be you.

Most of the students there were sexually active anyway, but no one had complained about them. As long as one kept things on the down-low and upheld a certain moralistic façade, they were considered as ‘innocent’, ‘pure’, or ‘normal’ even. For one, he was pretty sure that his father was having an affair with the church choir mistress, but that seemed to go overlooked. 

Everyone’s such hypocrites, he pondered, frowning in distaste. Including himself. Although he liked to think that he was brave and courageous, in actuality, he was afraid of rocking the boat. Fitting in was more important, just as his parents had taught him from a young age. It was the side of him that he hated the most, but could not get rid of.

Gathering his belongings, he left school and hurried off. He’d been requested last-minute to serve at Mass that evening, as one of the other altar boys had fallen ill. At church, he exchanged his school uniform for the standard black cassock and white surplice, before starting with the Introductory Rites.

You, on the other hand, had been singled out along with a bunch of other troublesome girls to attend Evening Mass with the Mother Superior that day. It was just your luck that you had to devote an hour of your time to a set of outdated rituals and prayers, with the aim of reflecting upon your sins. The most frustrating part of this exercise was that all of you were placed in the front row pews, so there was no chance of daydreaming or dozing off in front of the priest. You’d never been much of a believer, but sometimes you did speculate if God was watching your every move from above.

As you stood up for the entrance procession, which signaled the start of Mass, a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes passed by. You’d recognize that anywhere, but it was a wonder how you hadn’t realized that he was serving as an altar boy all this while. Maybe your Mass timings hadn’t aligned? Or maybe you just never paid much attention in church. You’d only seen him here and there when he attended Mass with his family as part of the congregation, but you ignored him back then, because you didn’t want to remember the feeling of losing the closest thing you had to a friend in your pre-teen days.

When Leon turned around to face the congregation for the greeting, he gulped as he saw you, standing almost directly in front of him as both of you made the Sign of the Cross. Speak of the devil, he muttered internally, before chastising himself for unintentionally insulting you and shook that thought away.

You gave him a coy smile as he scampered off to where he was meant to be stationed. For the first time in a while, you took the chance to admire his chiseled features and how much he had grown. He had always been attractive, but he was no longer the little boy you used to know, and instead now a fine, young man, in an even finer religious attire. Puberty did him good, you mused.

All at once, a mischievous plan flashed across your mind as you plotted how to win his attention. It would be an entertaining way to pass the time in this mundane institution. Viewing the school uniform as yet another means for the authorities to curb people’s freedom and creative expression, you had a habit of violating the dress code by making minor adjustments to it. Whether it was shortening the hem of your skirt or wearing below the ankle socks, you went for it. And today was no exception.

You waited until it was time to be seated before attempting to catch his gaze. Within a few minutes, he sneaked a peek your way and you stifled a laugh. Bingo. As you continued looking straight at him, you stretched your legs out cautiously, so as not to alert the Mother Superior, who sat beside you, to your antics. His eyes widened and flickered, as you showed off their length, rotating your ankles in small circles languidly. The other altar boys started to take note and whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves. But you only had eyes for Leon, scrutinizing him like a hawk, as you bared your teeth with a sly grin plastered across your face.

It was only a matter of time before the Mother Superior rapped you on the legs with a thin, wooden cane she carried around for doling out such punishments. The other girls in your row giggled as you returned your legs to a respectable position, disregarding the smarting pain that had accompanied the blow. 

It was worth it, you reasoned, spotting Leon’s lopsided smile, as he turned away to hide his blush.

This soon carried on like an unspoken game between you and Leon. You’d attend Mass whenever he was serving as an altar boy, and he’d look out for you, exchanging glances like a secret code shared between the two of you. A sense of thrill arose within him each time, as to what you’d try next. If only he knew what you were capable of.

At some point, you grew bolder. During the Holy Communion, where Leon had been helping the priest to hold the patina under the chins of those who received the Sacred host, you made sure once again to make eye contact with him the whole way through. Your mouth was slightly agape, as you extended your tongue, clasping your hands together in a pious prayer position. When the priest placed the host in your mouth, you swallowed it suggestively, licking your upper lip for a finishing touch. Leon nearly stumbled over backwards as his face turned bright red like a tomato. The last thing he heard was your silvery laughter, and you returned to your seat as if nothing had happened. You had ensnared him now.

When Mass ended, you slipped him a note, asking him to meet you at the confessional when everyone else had been ushered out. You knelt in the penitent compartment, waiting for him to arrive, confident that he would show up. A few minutes later, you heard someone enter the booth where the priest usually sat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began. Through the latticed screen, you could just about make out Leon’s face as he chuckled.

“What are you playing at?”

“You tell me,” you challenged, testing the waters. “I haven’t received any complaints.”

“Well, I have a question,” he mentioned quietly. “Do you still remember when we hung out back then? At the tree.”

There was pang in your heart, as you recalled your childhood memories. “Of course, you were the only one who bothered to speak to me.”

You pursed your lips before taking the plunge. “I really appreciated that.”

There was a momentary pause, as he took your words in. “I wish they didn’t separate us.”

“It isn’t too late to start over.” It was humiliating how eager you sounded. No matter how much you tried to repress it, you yearned to rekindle that connection you had with him once.

“Listen, I like you,” he admitted, sighing heavily. “But, I can’t go public with this. My parents-”

“Who says it has to be public?” You retorted defensively. 

His heartfelt confession emboldened you, yet a part of you felt dejected that this was the best option he could offer. However, you didn’t want to concede without giving it a shot.

He made a noise which sounded like he was in disbelief. “You mean-”

“Shall I come over and show you?” You interrupted, already getting up before he could answer.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “I-I’d like that, I guess.”

Exiting your compartment, you stepped out and swiftly went over to where he was, closing the door behind you. It was crammed and stuffy in this tiny box with two people, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Giving him a once-over, it struck you that he was still in his altar boy attire and perhaps what you were about to do was wrong on so many levels, but you brushed those thoughts aside.

“Um-”

Before he could speak any further, you ran your hands up along his chest and planted your lips onto his, soft and pillowy in texture. He let out a low moan, easing into your embrace as he kissed back, holding onto the back of your head for better leverage. His tongue grazed across your lips and you parted them in response, allowing it to slip inside as you tasted each other. Grabbing the collar of his cassock, you pressed your bodies together heatedly. You sucked on his tongue, eliciting another moan from his throat, as you shuffled him around, pushing his back against the wooden wall with a loud thud. Both of you had lost yourselves in a whirlwind of kisses, oblivious to the outside world and the ruckus you were making.

However, it was hard to ignore the hymn that was being sung when the next Mass started. Leon froze, before pulling away hastily. His mouth was red and swollen, and a pearly string of saliva connected it with yours.

“Shit, we lost track of time,” he panted. 

If you didn’t want to be seen, you’d need to remain where you were until the Mass ended. In other words, both of you were trapped here for at least another hour. 

Not being one to let such matters ruin the vibe, you responded, “That’s not a problem for me.” Trailing a lone finger down Leon’s body seductively, you let it come to rest above the growing bulge in his cassock.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, as you cupped your hand around it, palming him through his clothes.

“You got a better idea?” You murmured in his ear, squeezing his erection a little as you continued rubbing against it.

“Don’t get me wrong, it feels amazing.” His voice was strained as he spoke. “But, it’s just…”

“Catholic guilt?” You teased.

“Yeah, probably.” He nodded sheepishly.

“Well, maybe if we get you out of this thing.” You gestured to his attire. “You might relax into it more.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, tugging the surplice over his head and discarding it to the ground. “Though it never really goes away, does it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I still get it, but it’s less of an issue now.” It made you follow up with a question of your own. “Does that mean I’m a bad person?”

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You're doing it again.”

“Hm?”

“Guilt,” he indicated. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” You tried to deflect the topic, knowing the rumors that people spread about you. Leon had probably heard it all. “At least there’s still hope for you.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You winked, removing the sash from his cassock as he unbuttoned the rest of it, revealing a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts underneath.

He snickered as you clucked your tongue at the sight. “What did you expect me to do? Go Commando?”

“Would’ve been hot,” you pointed out.

Leon had always been perceptive. From your interactions, he began to suspect that sometimes you relied on lighthearted banter as a way to mask your nervousness and other underlying emotions.

Nestling his fingers under your chin, he turned you towards him. “You sure about this?”

“Mm hm.” It was sweet of him to check in. Most guys never offered you the same courtesy. “Been thinking about it since Communion,” you added brazenly.

He snorted as you gave him a quick peck on the lips. Working your way down, you kissed his clothed body, pulling the waistband of his underwear and shorts to his ankles. Kneeling before him, you reached for his cock, smearing beads of his precum carelessly along his velvety skin, while you pumped his hot shaft slowly.

He inhaled sharply, snapping his eyes shut, as he tilted his head back in pleasure. In the background, you could hear the priest’s sermon droning on.

With a smug smile, you warned, “Do me a favor and try to keep it down, will you?”

Before he had a chance to react, you filled your mouth with his cock, sliding all the way down its hardened length.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

Instantly, you released it with a pop and tutted in mock disappointment, “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“We’re so going to hell for this,” he laughed faintly, tangling his hands in your hair.

“Ah-” He gasped again, as you held onto the base of his cock, lifting it to flatten your tongue on its underside. Slathering it with saliva, you took his balls into your wet mouth, one at a time, sucking on them delectably. “Fuck!”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” You joked.

“Not if you keep doing what you’re doing, angel.”

Angel. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before, but you liked the sound of it.

Wrapping your lips around his cock, you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Each time you came up, you flicked your tongue at the tip, licking it as you stared up at him. His eyes flew open, gazing at you with lust and arousal while you sucked him off more vigorously.

Sliding his cock in deeper, you allowed it to hit the back of your throat, causing you to make a guttural noise. Clenching his fist, he bit down hard on his knuckles to stop himself from crying out. If this was hell, he’d stay right here with you. He couldn’t think straight anymore, as he bucked his hips forward in response.

Grabbing his ass, your fingernails left crescent shaped indents on his skin, as you let him fuck your mouth to chase his high. Tears lined your eyelashes and sweat poured down your brow. It had gotten incredibly hot and humid in this enclosed space. But his muted moans only served to turn you on even more. You wondered how perverse and trashy you looked in this position, though Leon could only mumble the opposite in his feverish state.

Soon, he tensed and quivered while hissing through gritted teeth, “God, I’m gonna cum.”

Lady Luck appeared to be on your side, as the congregation were in the middle of singing another hymn, which inadvertently muffled whatever sounds were coming from the confessional. He struggled to hold in his groans as you felt a thick, salty load of his cum wash up against your throat. You choked a bit before swallowing it whole.

Collapsing backwards, you leaned against the cool surface of the seat behind you, wiping the edges of your mouth. Tucking his spent dick back under his clothes, he sank down beside you, kissing you gently and tasting himself on your lips. 

“You ok?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek.

You nodded silently and smiled, contemplating if there would be a future to what you had with him now.

“I ruined you,” he jested, showering you with kisses along your jawline.

“As if.” You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was the truth.

And, just like he had read your mind, he uttered the magic words, “So, when will I see you again?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the encounter at the confessional, you continued your clandestine meetings with Leon, just like back in the old days, except both of you were now wiser in covering your tracks. In public, you pretended not to know each other, yet shared furtive, longing glances when you were in the same vicinity. Sometimes, he would make an excuse to brush past you, his touch ghosting across the curve of your spine, your shoulders, the back of your hand to the tip of your pinkie finger. Away from prying eyes, you hooked up passionately, damning each other further to hell. How many levels were there again? You’d lost count.

You enjoyed the moments spent with him. The aftercare and cuddling. The long talks into the night. You understood each other somehow, it wasn’t like this with other people. So, if the Day of Judgment arrived, why would God not sympathize with you both?

Despite that, neither of you had put a label on where you stood with each other. How did this secret relationship work? If you were found out, would he ditch you like before? Would you be thrown under the bus, so that he could be purified again? It wasn’t long until insecurity reared its ugly head, gnawing at you from within.

Leon sensed something was off as you lay in his arms, naked while he spooned you in the back seat of his car, parked along a desolate dirt path near the forest. You had that pensive look on your face, like you were in a world of your own, one where he couldn’t enter.

Pulling you close to him, he kissed the top of your shoulder, coaxing you out of your reverie. “Wanna talk about it?”

You hummed noncommittally. After a long pause, you asked, “Are you embarrassed by me?”

He was caught off-guard by the question and his breathing stilled. “No,” he argued. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m just tired of hiding,” you sighed. “It’s like I’m making you do something bad.”

There was a brief ache in his chest, as guilt swelled up like a wave. Coward, an inner voice spat.

Carding his fingers through your hair, he pressed his lips against the temple of your head. “You make me feel like the best version of myself.”

“Hm.” You pinched your lips together, wanting to believe him, but you weren’t convinced.

He observed this, but decided not to press the issue any further, knowing that you needed action, not words.

She’ll be your downfall. A surly voice piped up within him, like fire and brimstone. He shook it off, ignoring the moral tug-of-war that had occurred once he made that statement, as he vowed to prove himself to you in the coming days.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you’d agreed to meet was in church, after the very last Mass of the day. He was serving as an altar boy again, and you were intrigued as to whether he had planned to reenact the entire confessional scene or switch it up with something new, like making you go through the Stations of the Cross while fucking you. You giggled at the idea, only to be shushed by a fellow parishioner, whom you had disturbed in meditative prayer.

When Mass ended and everyone except yourself had left the nave, you waited patiently for him in the pews. After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to face Leon, who had changed into his casual clothes. As you got to your feet, he cupped the sides of your face in his hands, closing the distance, and bringing your lips to meet his in a fervent kiss. You were slightly taken aback by his initiation, since he was usually the shyer one out of the two of you.

Claiming your hand in his, he led you to the front, where the altar stood before the austere crucifix that hung from the wall. He smirked, noticing the look of shock and incredulity on your face, as it gradually began to dawn on you what he had in mind. However, he was anxious too, you could tell from the way his hand was trembling. He was sealing his fate, and you were both going down together. Nothing could bring you back after this ultimate act of blasphemy.

At the foot of the altar, he caressed his lips against yours. “I guess God is our witness now.”

Leaning in, you found yourselves consumed in a lip lock, which deepened with each passing second as you helped each other out of your clothes, kicking them off unceremoniously to the side. He spun you around, bending you forward against the smooth, marble top of the altar. The cold surface caused your nipples to harden and goosebumps to form on your skin. You shivered as he spread your legs wider apart and knelt down, holding your thighs as he licked a firm stripe along your silken folds. 

As he continued to lap at the sensitive flesh, he brought a hand towards your clit, stroking it softly with his middle finger. You jerked from the sensation, whimpering as he alternated between thrusting his tongue into your heat and suckling it with his lips. There was a slight pressure as you felt one of his fingers sliding into your pussy, already soaked with arousal. At the same time, his tongue trailed up towards your rim, teasing it with long, flat licks.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping the edge of the altar, as an electrifying tingle coursed through your veins.

There was a playful smack on your ass. “Forgotten the Third Commandment already?” Leon scolded.

“Huh?”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he mimicked your tone from when you had teased him at the confessional.

“Ugh,” you whined. “I’m sure this is the least of our concerns.”

You felt his hot breath against your asshole before he dipped his tongue in lightly. Simultaneously, he pumped your pussy, pushing in another finger and stretching you out, before his tongue went back to circling around your rim, inciting a string of moans from your mouth.

“Feeling good?”

“Mm, yes,” you replied hoarsely. “But when are you going to fuck me?”

He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness, before imparting a piece of unsolicited advice. “Patience is a virtue.”

You groaned at his quip. “Really, Leon? Are you-”

He interrupted rudely, pressing his hand on your back as he entered you, burying his cock deep into your cunt. You nearly screamed in ecstasy as he pounded his hips against your ass repeatedly, already setting a brutal pace from the beginning. Maybe you should’ve been careful of what you wished for.

“What was that again?” He taunted.

You growled, clenching your jaw as you felt his dick dragging against your sensitive walls. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed across the space. Your mind fogged up in an insatiable haze as you pushed back rhythmically against his thrusting, allowing him to penetrate you further, and taking pleasure in how his head brushed against your cervix with each stroke.

“So close,” you rasped, your core tightening as if it was about to burst.

At this, he pulled away briefly, flipping you over as he lifted you onto the altar top. He had a bruising grip around your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist instinctively, interlocking your ankles behind his back to draw him closer. Bewitched, he took a moment to drink in the divine sight of your flushed, moist body, supple and wanting in his arms, before kissing you sloppily on the mouth. Pressing his forehead against yours, he asserted, “You don’t know what you do to me, angel.”

With that, he rutted into you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing as you clung to the back of his neck, crying out in rapture. When you finally snapped, a glimmer from the gold cross necklace he wore daily flashed before your eyes. You looped your index finger around it, tugging at it as you peered up at the bleeding face of Christ looking down at you ominously from the crucifix. The last remains of the day’s light filtered through the stained glass behind him, casting a kaleidoscope of mottled colors across your bodies, the altar and the stone floor, like a disease.

You realized you had tempted Leon beyond salvation. But in spite of it, he had followed you willingly. This was the proof he had wanted to show you. You were the angel he would desecrate everything for. He’d cut your wings off so you’d be his and stay.

His cock throbbed with desire as he rode you through your orgasm. As he neared the edge, he pulled out, finishing himself off. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he murmured a mixture of curses and professions against your skin, while spurting hot white cum over the mound of your pussy. Holding onto the marbled structure for support, he bent over you, placing tender kisses on your eyes and your lips.

It seemed as if he had turned his back on God and worshiped you now. But instead of a guilty conscience, you felt nothing but love. Silently, both of you cleaned up and got dressed. He delicately reattached the butterfly clip that had come loose in your hair, while you wiped away the lipstick that had smudged onto his face. There would be no signs of what had transpired, except he had another surprise lined up for you. 

Upon exiting the church doors, Leon took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, as you walked out onto the street together. You were his - he’d show you off to the whole damn world without shame.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #religious au #church au #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

[ferida-kahlo]

♡ Hotline ♡

Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: You and Mikey have been casually seeing each other for a few weeks. After a late night text from him, you make the drunken insomniac executive decision of calling him back. Naughtiness ensues.

Or: the one where you and Michael have phone sex.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, M/F. Minors DNI // PWP, P!rn With Feelings. Phone sex, flirting, teasing, sexual innuendos, dirty talking, mentions of oral sex (m. receiving), masturbation (m. and f.), sexual fantasies, role-playing scenarios, librarian k!nk, mentions of rough sex. // Blink-and-you-miss-it angst, alcohol use, mentions of insomnia, anxiety and self esteem issues.

Word count: 3.8k

Read below the cut OR on AO3

Notes: Reader wears glasses in this - don't look at me like that, it's integral to the plot 🙄

For the history nerds, the quote at the beginning is from the book "Fire from Heaven" by Mary Renault, about the relationship between Alexander the Great and his friend and lover, Hephaestion.

Enjoy! As always, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

His feelings were confused; he wanted to grasp till Alexander's very bones were somehow engulfed within himself, but knew this to be wicked and mad; he would kill anyone who harmed a hair of his head…

… you yawned at the page you’d been reading (i.e., staring at without absorbing a single bit of information), before turning your head to the nightstand and seeing the clock mark 2:49 am.

“Good god”, you whispered, tiredly rubbing your face with one hand, while the other reached for the half-full glass of red wine keeping you company in your insomnia.

Technically, you knew drinking was the last thing you should be doing on a weeknight, when you were having a hard time falling asleep and were expected at work in the morning. But living alone was really not helping you behave like a responsible adult with bills to pay. So, you slowly sip your wine, read your book, and hope that eventually your brain will give up and allow you to pass out for at least a few hours.

Suddenly, your phone lights up with a text. Michael B., it says on the screen. A pang of excitement hits you, and you immediately scoff for reacting so earnestly to a text from a guy you’ve been with (not even biblically, just the daytime coffee dates that people with busy lives manage to pack into a crazy week) for a grand total of two times and less than two hours, overall. Not pathetic at all.

Still, you can’t help but reach for the phone.

Hey, I know it’s late and you probably won’t read this until morning, sorry. Wanna have dinner at that spot we talked about? I can pick you up at the office ;) – M.

You smile, and without really thinking, hit the call button.

He picks up quickly, an amused tone in his voice. “Well, I was not expecting that. What the hell are you still doing up, princess? No work tomorrow?”

You laugh. “God, I wish. I just can’t sleep. Haven’t had one of these nights in a while… my brain won’t shut up, even though I’m so tired I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck”.

“Ooof. That fucking sucks.”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’m glad to be your booty call in this desperate time.”

“Michael”, you laugh so hard you choke on some wine and must set the glass back on the table. “I really don’t think that’s what this is”.

“Oh, no?”, he feigns innocence.

“No…”, chuckling, you continue with the most sultry, mock-seductive voice you can muster “… a booty call is if I was like: Sooo, Mikey… are you, like, busy right now? Do you wanna… come over? I’m aaall alone…”.

You make sure to put particular emphasis on the word ‘come’ and Mike sounds like he is doubling over with laughter. “That was the worst proposition I have ever heard, no doubt”.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re officially off my booty call list. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

“Ah, shit… I fucked up now, didn’t I?”, you swear you can hear his grin from the other end of the line. And see the laugh lines that form on the corner of his eyes when he smiles genuinely, the rare but so cute nose crinkle that makes your belly flutter…

You would love to get a fucking grip, thank you very much, but the wine was making you incapable of keeping a level head in this flirtation.

“Well… all is not lost. Taking me out to dinner is a good start to redeem yourself. If your game is on point tomorrow, your booty call list status might be revised… in the not-so-far future”, you add, suggestively.

“Shit. Now the stakes are on. I gotta be on my best behavior tomorrow, then”.

“I don’t know about best behavior…”. You feel like slapping yourself for your lack of subtlety.

He chuckles. “So… you like them a little nasty, huh?”

You’re glad he can’t see you blush furiously. “Not like that… but I do like a man who isn’t afraid to… take what he wants. Respectfully, of course.”

“Of course… damn, girl. You’re getting me thinking about all sorts of things…”

“Well, you’re the one who started talking about booty calls. It’s technically your fault”.

“That’s fucking rich. I was being a gentleman, sent you a sweet text and all. Not a single sex reference!”, he says, proudly.

“Ok, that is true”, you concede, laughing softly. “Are you still at the restaurant?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah… paperwork coming out of my eyeballs. I don’t even understand how the hell I organized this mess”. You hear rustling through the line, and imagine the mess of letters, invoices and bills that must be covering his office desk.

“That fucking sucks”.

“Word”. His chair squeaks loudly. “So… what are you wearing?”

You laugh. “You’re unbelievable”.

“What? I’m just trying to keep the conversation light, you know? Nobody wants to hear about my fuckin’ paperwork at 3 am”.

It was subtle, but you could sense something deeper in his words (sadness? self-deprecation?).

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about your ‘fuckin’ paperwork’ at any time of day, Michael”.

The line goes silent, and you fear you went too deep, too soon. Made this weird in record time, wow.

“I didn’t mean it like… I meant if you want to talk to me about your shitty day, you know, you can, but I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart. I get it… thank you for that”, he says, softly. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I honestly just wanna forget about this for a little while... I was really pumped when you called”.

“That’s okay. Really?” You smile, relieved.

“Yeah, really. So… wanna make a guy happy and tell him what you’re wearing?”

With a chuckle, you concede. “Well, nothing. I’m in bed and I sleep naked, so… yeah”.

There’s a heavy pause. “Holy shit. Are you for real?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Jesus, fuck… baby, you can’t say stuff like that and expect me to be normal about it”.

You grin, having just decided that, actually, you wanna play dirty.

“Who says I want you to be normal about it? Besides”, you throw back, suggestively, “I hardly think a woman can be held accountable for what she says after four glasses of wine on a Thursday night… naked and alone, in such a big bed…”

“Now, see, that was a much better pitch for a booty call than the first o-”

“I’m gonna hang up.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry”, he laughs.

“You’re an asshole”. Even as you say it, you’re smiling.

“And you are a minx, lady. Gettin’ a guy all worked up…”

“Oh, my... I don’t know what you mean…”, you whisper into the comforter, now balled up in your fist over your mouth, as if to cover up your blushing cheeks from an invisible audience.

“Oh, I disagree… I think you know exactly what you’re doing”. There’s a note of sarcasm in his voice you find exhilarating. A sudden noise – like a chair squeaking loudly on a panel floor – can be heard from his end. Followed by… a metallic rattle, more subtle but still clear. A… belt unbuckling?

Wait. Is he…?

You grin, amused. “Mr. Berzatto… I’m hearing suspicious noises. What is going on over there?”

A deep grunt. “Nothin’ much, sweetheart. Just making myself comfortable, is all”.

“And how exactly are you doing that, mister?”

“You know… freeing the junk.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Well, that certainly helps set the mood”.

“Hm… baby, can I ask you for something? It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna do it… but I figure I might as well shoot my shot.”

You notice you are sitting up very still against the pillows in your bed, holding your breath in anticipation. “Sure… what is it?”

A heavy pause follows. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat itself out of your ribcage, your throat feels dry, and your tongue sits heavy and thick in your mouth, the taste of wine suddenly overpowering your senses. And you are so horny.

“Could you… send me a photo of you right now? Are you wearing those new glasses?”. He sounds… eager, almost nervous with the way he trips over the second question.

Oh. Something clicks for you, then. You smile. “So, you really liked the new glasses, huh?”

“Shit… c’mon, don’t bust my balls about it”, he says, with an embarrassed chuckle of admission.

“I’m not! It’s very flattering, actually”. You hope you conveyed how much you are not making fun of him. However, you hate misunderstandings, and to dispel any that might be going on here, you decide there is only one acceptable solution.

“Give me a minute”, you tell him, determined. You don’t wait for an answer before you drop your phone and get to work.

Meanwhile, Mikey sits in his rusty office chair, in what he thinks must look like a very… undignified position. Cock out, right hand stroking it lazily, slumped back with his jeans barely down his ass, work shirt dirty and stinking of cooking oil, his entire body tense in a mix of anticipation and shame. A part of him can’t help but wonder if you are fucking with him: laughing from the other end of the line, leaving him hanging – literally and figuratively (he chuckles dejectedly at the realization that he still remembers something from high school Lit class). He guesses he would kinda deserve that. What type of freak asks for nudes after two… dates? Do those rapid-fire coffee-grabs even count? He is so shit at this. Anything more than a casual hook-up or a quickie behind a sleezy pub is rocket science for him. ‘Congrats, loser! You just fucked it, yet again’.

Then, his phone pings. 5 photos received.

In the first one, you are lying on your side, in bed, a dim warm light illuminating the scene. He can see the contours of your body clearly, despite being covered by a layer of nearly sheer white sheets. His gaze follows your exposed collarbone, to the silhouette of your breasts – he is sure you purposefully allowed a bit of side-boob to slip past the entrapment of sheets… just for him.

He swears he could stare at the shapes of your body all day and never get tired – or limp. His dick is throbbing painfully, now.

It does not get better when he sees the rest of the photos. Your face is visible, on those. The last two are his favorites. You are laying on your stomach, with the reading glasses on, as promised – except they sit lower on your nose than usual, so that your eyes peak out from over the top of the frames. Your hair is down, tousled and wild like it’s just gotten messed up. ‘Is this what she looks like after…’. You are holding a glass of wine to your mouth – lips plump and lightly tinged red – that detail drives him a little insane –, and in front of you lays a book, delicately held open with your other hand. And in the last photo, the sheets have slipped lower down your breasts, revealing a generous cleavage. You’re staring directly at the camera with an inquiring gaze, biting your lower lip. ‘Come get me’.

“… Mike? Are you still there?”

It’s been some time since you sent the photos (twenty seconds, which your anxiety tells you is actually half an hour), with no reaction from him. Your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly feel very silly and insecure. Are they even… good? What makes a good nude? Do these even qualify as nudes? You’re not showing anything super explicit… they’re suggestive, at best. Is he going to think you’re a prude? God, why is this so diff-

Mike clears his throat. “Yeah, I… fuck. Fuckin’ hell. Holy shit. Sweetheart… these are so hot. Jesus… thank you so much. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous…”. The last part comes out as a whisper, like he’s starstruck.  

You didn’t know it was possible to get more flustered than you already were. “You’re welcome… I’m flattered I managed to make Michael Berzatto incoherent over some low-res thirst trap selfies.”

“Baby, these are genuinely the hottest pics I’ve ever seen. You look like a hot librarian or something”.

You laugh out loud, triumphantly. “Ah! I knew it!”

“What?”, he laughs along.

“Something you wanna share with the class, Mr. Berzatto?”.

“Fuck, don’t stop calling me that, sweetheart”, he says, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah?”, you whisper.

“Fuck, yeah. It’s just… I’ve got a thing for girls with a kinda nerdy, librarian type of vibe, you know? And when I saw you this last time, holding a book and wearing your reading glasses… I gotta admit, my mind went straight to the gutter.”

Interesting. “Really? What did you imagine then?”.

A pause. “I’m not sure you want to hear it… I don’t want you thinking I’m a pervert or something”.

You sigh. “Mikey, I just sent you near-naked photos of me. We’re having phone sex. We are two horny adults having fun. Besides…”, you switch your tone to what you hope comes across as faux innocence, “… I asked you about it. It is kinda my fault, right? I guess I was kind of… bad”.

“Oh, is that what’s happening?”. He chuckles, as if saying challenge accepted. “Alright, then. When I saw you like that for the first time, this image popped into my head, right? I mean, you looked like a really hot librarian. So, I started picturing you in that scenario, with big glasses and all – just like the photos you sent me… except you had your hair in a cute ponytail, and your lips were even redder with lipstick… and you were wearing fishnet stockings up to your thighs – fuck, you got such nice legs, baby –, and you had a pair of those… what are they called. Uh, kitten heels. Yeah. Fuck, your ass would look unbelievable like that. I mean, it is unbelievable, you know what I mean? When you show up at the restaurant wearing those cute little dresses and skirts, I feel my dick twitching in my pants… that’s how hot you are, baby… that’s how crazy you make me feel.”

His words were streaming out like an avalanche – a filthy stream-of-consciousness. Flash images of all the times you were together pop into your mind. He was always nice and polite to you, if cheeky – that was his personality, after all. You’d never felt disrespected or threatened around him. Maybe that’s why, now that you knew he had been actively thinking about you like this… you were very turned on.

“Too much, sweetheart? You wanna keep listening to this filth?”

“… yeah, Mikey. Keep going. What happened then?”

“Then, I took you to a hidden corner in the library, rucked up your pretty little skirt and ripped your real nice dress shirt open… you know, so I could suck on your tits while I fucked you hard against some shelves. Didn’t even need to rip your panties off, ‘cause you weren’t wearing any. Just lifted you up and slammed my cock right into your pussy… God, you were drippin’ wet for me, and you mewled so sweetly… loud, too. Had to shove my fingers into your pretty mouth to keep you quiet. That’s what I imagined, sweetheart. More or less.”

The crass and vivid way in which he described his fantasy made you speechless. It was exhilarating. Knowing that all those times he had talked to you with a straight face, he had been actively fantasizing about fucking you hard. His words.

“Jesus Christ, Mikey”, you breathe out. “That’s… I can’t believe we had entire conversations while you had a cheap porn flick playing in your head”, you laugh softly, unconvincingly.

He sighed deeply. “See, I knew this was a bad idea… honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit. I guess I’m just a fucking perv-”

“Babe…”, you interrupt him, gentle, but firm, “shut up, please. I’m messing with you. I told you, it’s very flattering that you’re attracted to me. In fact… it’s super hot. Knowing you were having all those dirty thoughts about me while still being a gentleman… is making me feel all kinds of things, right now.”

“Yeah? What kinds of things?”

“Good things, Mikey… I’m so wet right now”, you mewl, the need for release in your core overwhelming the embarrassment you would be feeling otherwise. Without thinking, you kick the sheets away from your body and cup one of your breasts, kneading it and flicking your nipple – a moan leaves your mouth in a desperate plea.

“Fuck”, he whispers, “you got wet over that filth? Jesus Christ, baby. I won the fuckin’ lottery”.

You are burning with desire, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you finally give in, sliding one hand down and shoving two fingers inside with barely any resistance. “Mikey… I wanna come so bad. Can you talk me through it… please?”

“Fuck… yeah, sweetheart, anything you want”. He moans, then, and you don’t think you have ever been so turned on in your life. Mikey Berzatto, a horny, moaning mess, jerking off in his mess of an office at 3 am… because of you.

Chicago’s Helen of Troy. You chuckled softly at the thought and decided to up the ante. “Baby… do you know what I was thinking when you were telling that beautiful story just now?”

He laughs, voice recked. “What, baby?”

You pout, and add another finger in, increasing the pace of the thrusts. “I wish you had pictured kissing me real hard, while I unbuckled your belt… would you let me get down on my knees for you, baby? I really wanna have you in my mouth, Mikey, like, right now”. Your words come out broken, sentences all messed up – you sound pathetic, but you are so past caring.

“Shit-”, a gasp, followed by a deep breath and the noise of something hitting a surface really hard. “… holy shit. Baby, I imagined all that and a whole lot more – seriously, you have no idea. Hell, if the lady wants to suck my dick, who am I to deny her, uh? Fuck. Would you let me fuck your mouth, baby…?”

You moan loudly at that and realize you need both hands, putting the phone on speaker – fuck the neighbors – and bringing your other hand to your clit, rubbing lightly, but fast. You were so close. The thought of kneeling on the floor, clothes and hair all messed up from Mikey’s hands, lipstick smudged… looking up at him, and watching his composure unravel because of you…

“Hm… yeah, Mikey, I think I would… ‘cause you’re so nice to me… such a gentleman, even when you’re fucking me hard… would you ask me real nice, baby? Hold my face gently in your big hands, while you fuck it?”

“Fuck, baby… I would treat you so right, you deserve everything-”, he chokes up and, for a few moments, you hear a distant cacophony of noises, like he’s put the phone down. Then, he’s back. “Sorry, sweetheart, I need both hands now”, he chuckles.

You giggle, “Me too… you got me so hot I’m fucking myself on my fingers and rubbing my clit at the same time… and it’s still not enough. I need you…”

“Fuck, that’s so hot. You fuckin’ yourself because of me… I know it’s not enough, baby… you need my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes! Mikey… please…”, you howl, completely out of your mind.

“How do you want me to fuck you, baby? Hm? Want it nice and slow? Nah… I think you like it fast and rough, don’t you? Long as I keep kissing you real good, touchin’ you real gentle, all over your body… you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”. How he manages to say such filthy things with so much honey dripping from every syllable, is beyond you.

“Yeah, fuck, baby… it doesn’t matter. I’m so wet already, you don’t need to do anything else, just hoist me up in your arms and pin me against the shelves… and shove it in me”.

You are still holding onto a shred of decency because you blush at your own crass admission – still, there is clearly not a whole lot left, as you start rubbing your clit and fucking yourself harder and faster. “I don’t want you to be gentle when you fuck me… I just need to feel your cock stretch me open… wanna feel the sting of it for days, be at work and not be able to focus because all I can think about is how you fucked me so good-”

At this point, you have no idea if he can understand anything you’re saying, because your words are intercut with moans and gasps and mewls and incoherent babble, as you’re about to reach your peak imagining Mikey’s on top of you, railing you into the bed.

“Baby, I’m gonna come… fuckin’ Christ”.

“Mikey- fuck!”.

Your body shakes and your eyes roll back from the strength of your orgasm. Distantly, your brain registers a broken string of moans and curses from the other end of the line.

A few seconds pass, and you feel yourself coming back down to Earth. You lazily stretch out on the bed, completely relaxed and fucked out. “That’s so cute… we came at the same time, babe”, you happily whisper, a ditsy smile on your face.

He huffs, amused “Yeah… what can I say? I’m a romantic at heart”.

You laugh sincerely. “This was… so good, actually. I’m glad I gave into my instinct and called you”.

“Well, I’m even more sticky now”. You both laugh at that. “But I’m also glad you called… like, really glad. Uh, can I ask you something?”

You notice a shift in his voice.

“Yeah… what is it?”

“I don’t want things to get weird between us after this… Like, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do all these things to get me off. You know what I mean? It’s just a fantasy… I’ll have you in any way you want me. Okay?”

You feel a tightness in your chest, and you wish, not for the first time tonight, you had him right in front of you so you could kiss him all over and hug him.

“Mikey… I genuinely liked tonight. And the more we talk, the more I like you. You’re not the only one who feels like you won the lottery…”.

“Baby… you’re too sweet. Don’t you think you already got me blushing enough for one night?”

“That’s fucking rich. I must’ve gone through all shades of red tonight, because of your filthy mouth”.

“Please. You loved it”, he chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess I did”, you concede, with a smile.

After saying goodbye – and confirming that yes, you would very much like for him to pick you up and take you to dinner later – you fall asleep fast, your mind finally catching up to the pleasant tiredness in your body, a soft smile on your lips.

#smut #michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto #mike berzatto x reader #mike berzatto #jon bernthal #the bear #the bear fx #the bear fic

[tkwrites]

Back to You - Matthew Tkachuk x Jessie (ofc)

gif from @drysaladandketchup

Title: Back To You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Matthew Tkachuck  x Jessie (ofc)

Warnings: Swearing, lots of flirting. Slow burn. Smut at the end: fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving).

Summary: Jessie and Matthew meet at a New Years Eve party and form an instant connection. When a fire rips them apart, can fate bring them back together? 

Word Count: 12,700

Comments: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston‘s winter fic exchange written for @luvsherleafs

This is by far the longest piece I’ve written for Tumblr. I had a really clear vision of where I wanted it to go, and I eventually got it there. In the end, I’m so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy, and would love to know what you think.

Many, many thanks to Mari @eyesthatroll and Bre @fallinallincurls for looking this over and assuring me it wasn’t garbage when I was in the trenches of writing. 

Me and you  We were a strange situation  And kissing you  Felt like Christmas Vacation  An exciting place to escape  Sometimes I wish that I could've stayed Cause you were my favorite Holiday  -Christmas Vacation by LØLØ

Back to You

Matthew couldn't tear his eyes away from her and knew he wasn't the only one. 

With dark hair cascading down her back in a long, shiny waterfall, big eyes and a plump little mouth that looked just made for kissing, she was the kind of classic girl next door people wrote into movies and books for the hero to find his way back to.

He especially liked what she was wearing. Bare legs weren’t really something he would advise at two hours to January in Ottawa, but at least it wasn’t a mini skirt like most women were tugging at constantly. Her shorts had a gold stripe on the sides that caught the flashing lights, as if they might have once been extravagant tuxedo pants tailored explicitly to show off her curvy legs. Her dark shirt had flecks of something metallic in the fabric - a wrapped and tied number like he’d never seen before. 

Laughter was all over her face as she danced with the people around her. Slamming her foot (clad in gold oxfords) down with the beat before circling her hips in time with the music. 

“Do you need a towel, man?” 

“What?” Matthew asked, pulling his eyes away to look at his brother.

“I asked if you needed a towel,” Brady repeated, failing to keep the teasing smile off his face, “for the drool.”    

Matthew flipped him off, and Brady laughed. 

“Go talk to her,” he encouraged, pushing Matthew off the bar stool. “I’m sick of watching you sit here and stare at her. Go do something about it.”  

He hesitated. It hadn't been that long since he’d broken up with Heidi.

“Go,” Brady repeated, shoving him across the walkway onto the dance floor. “Move on.”

Although he wasn't sure if he was ready to meet someone new, Matthew knew Brady was right. He’d be kicking himself come morning if he let a woman this good looking go without at least shooting his shot. 

As he weaved through the crowd of dancers, his competitive drive growled in his chest, pleased. He’d be damned if he let someone else get to her first.

“Your admirer is coming this way,” Roger said, nodding to someone over Jessie’s shoulder. 

She glanced over. A tallish guy with curly hair was walking right at her, a determined intensity all over his handsome face. Her gaze swung back to Roge, eyes wide. 

“Just letting you know so you can prepare,” he said with a wink. “I told you those shorts would bring all the boys.” 

Although she'd made them for the occasion, she didn't think they would pull the amount of attention they were getting. Her clothes often garnered a lot of lingering glances, though they usually came from other women. 

Someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned.

The same guy was standing in front of her. He was much taller up close, had light eyes, and his hair looked like it might be blonde. It was hard to tell under the dim dancefloor lights. 

He flashed her a charismatic smile. The gap between his front teeth only added to his charm. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, leaning in and yelling to be heard over the music. 

Jessie wasn’t generally the type to accept drinks from random strangers, but this guy was hot, had nice style, and of all the dudes that had stared at her that evening, was the first one to do something about it. 

“Sure,” she yelled back. 

“Wanna go to the bar?”

After she nodded and they started walking through the mass of dancers, she glanced over her shoulder. Roge lifted his phone out of his pocket and shook it at her. His flashlight turned on. 

She sent him a text about going to the bar and his flashlight, made sure the ringer was turned on, and slipped her phone back into her shorts pocket. Another good thing about making her own clothes: she could make the pockets as big as she needed.

Matthew couldn’t keep the smug smile off his face at the glares and disappointed looks that followed them to the bar.

“What'll you have?” the bartender asked as they came to a stop in the corner of the club. It was a bit quieter. 

“A mojito, please” she said, before gathering her hair into a fist behind her and running her hand down the length of it. 

Momentarily distracted by her actions and the flash of dark red, the bartender had to ask him again what he wanted. 

“Beer would be great,” he said, flashing a bright smile, “whatever light you recommend.” Glancing back at the girl, he ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t doing something stupid, and said, “I'm Matthew, by the way. “

“Jessie. Are you from around here?”

“No, but my brother lives here. You?”

“My family is from here, but I'm usually in the states.” she said, watching the bartender muddle the mint in her drink. He didn’t seem to be doing anything funny with it. 

“Yeah? Which one?”

“New York. Well, technically New Jersey, but I study in New York.”

“What do you study?” Matthew asked, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. 

“Fashion.”

“I should have guessed,” he said. 

“You should have?”

“Yeah. You have great style.”

The smile that spread over her face made him want to kiss her. 

“What do you do, Matthew?” she asked, as she brought the black straw in her drink to her mouth. She caught it between her tongue and teeth before her lips wrapped around it. 

His train of thought ran off the rails with visions of her mouth wrapping around other things.

Thankfully, autopilot kicked in and saved him from looking like a total creep, “I play hockey.” 

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I'm based in Florida.”

“Why the hell are you in Ottawa for New Years,” she asked, aghast, “when you could be somewhere warm?”

“We played here yesterday, so my family are all staying with my brother. Why are you here?”

“My dad grew up here, and wanted us to experience the joys of the frozen tundra at Christmastime,” she said with a long sweep of her hand, as if gesturing to the whole country. 

He laughed again, and held her eye contact. It was so intense, she was the one to break it. 

“Anyway,” she flipped her free hand, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I honestly don’t have that much free time, but I always enjoy a good libation,” he said, holding up his bottle. 

A wide smile spread over his face when she clinked her glass against it as she said, “amen.” 

“And I like to hang out with people and I play a lot of other sports.” 

“I will never understand why athletes always want to play other sports. It’s not like I sew upholstery when I’m not making clothes.” 

He laughed, loud and genuine, and Jessie felt her heart flutter a little. 

“It can be hard to turn off the competitive drive, so it helps to have somewhere to channel it. So did you make these clothes?” he asked, nodding at her outfit. 

“Yeah. I found this gold fabric,” her fingers ran down the stripe on her left hip, “and fell in love with the idea of tuxedo shorts for New Years. I play around with a lot of menswear styles.” 

“I like them,” he said. If he, by some miracle, got nominated for another award, maybe he would get a gold striped tux made. 

“We have to wear suits to all of our games, so I’m always looking for something new and interesting,” he said. 

The conversation lulled for a moment, and he continued, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I also enjoy a good libation,” she clinked her glass against his again, “and I like to play tennis and I love movies.” 

The rest of the night was spent in that little corner of the bar, talking and laughing - Matthew was funny. Quick with a movie quote and a sarcastic comment in her ear. She told him about coming to the club with her cousins, only one of whom she really knew, and he told her about coming with his family. A younger, married brother, and a sister still in college. 

He refreshed their drinks and marveled at finding a woman who could keep up with his banter, genuinely laughed at his jokes and seemed interested in him as a person rather than as Matthew Tkachuk. 

They talked about hockey, she knew some as her dad was Canadian, but not a lot, then about fashion. 

She admitted one of the reasons she’d said yes to his drink had been his pants. 

“Listen, more American men need to understand how many more girls they’d get if they just wore the right pants!” 

He cocked an eyebrow. 

“Your pants are fitted properly so I can see your ass and your thighs, and it makes you about a thousand times more attractive.” 

A cocky smile spread over his face, “Oh, yeah?” he asked, leaning into her space. 

She gulped, “yeah. If more men wore pants like yours, they wouldn’t be single.” 

He stayed in her space, and her eyes darted to his lips. He licked them, just to see what she would do at the flash of his tongue. 

Her eyes darted back to his and her cheeks pinked. He smiled. 

The music changed to a slower, more house-style song he recognised. Jessie bumped her shoulders to the beat. 

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asked.  

“Sure.” 

They moved to the floor, and he watched, entranced as she swung her hips in rhythm.

When she turned around, pressing flush against him, his right hand immediately grasped her hip, as if that might provide some kind of grounding from the fluttering feeling in his chest. 

It wasn’t like this had never happened - girls grinding up on him. It happened quite a lot, actually. Sometimes without any kind of consent. But this? Jessie? He couldn't get enough. She was pretty and they had the kind of instant chemistry you couldn't fake. 

He found himself thinking about her beyond that night. A first since Heidi. 

For her part, Jessie couldn't stand not touching him any longer. The chemistry between them was so palpable, she was surprised other club goers weren’t getting caught in it. Feeling him move against her made desire rumble to life in her belly, growling to be released. 

They danced that way for - Matthew lost track of how many songs. She felt amazing pressed up against him. He was so in tune with how they moved together, the dancing felt like foreplay. 

When the countdown to midnight began, she turned to face him. They were still so close - she could feel his body heat seeping through his clothing and into hers, see the way his button down was just starting to cling to his skin. 

Matthew looked down at her, not hiding any of his interest. She looked back with so much hope and lust in her eyes, his stomach twisted. 

“Three, two, one!” the crowd cheered. 

He leaned down, then paused, “okay?” 

Rising onto her toes, she closed the gap between them in answer. 

All of their flirting was leading up to this moment, and Jessie wasn’t disappointed at all. It was as if everything around them faded into soft focus and the din of the crowd melted away. It was better than she could have imagined. His tongue brushed along hers, and heat flooded her stomach. 

Matthew angled closer when her fingers slid into his hair. His hand splayed over her lower back. He wished he didn’t have this beer bottle so he could have both hands on her.

It went on and on for what felt like ages - a promise of things to come. 

Someone cat called from nearby, and Jessie broke away, pursing her lips to hide how flustered she felt. At least he was as breathless as she was, his chest expanding to the confines of his shirt with every inhale. 

They stared at each other for a moment longer, not quite engaged with the crowd, which was growing increasingly restless with the New Year in full swing.

She was debating between kissing him again, or asking if he wanted to leave all together when the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness. 

The suddenness of it made her laugh. She thought it must be some kind of prank until all at once, a mono tone alarm started to scream. Lights began to strobe - harsh, bright flashes that instantly made spots appear in her vision. 

The word “fire” was popping up in the crowd.

Just as he was starting to register what was happening, murky water cascaded from the ceiling. 

The club was dissolving into chaos. Matthew snapped out of his reverie, and looked around for Taryn. 

“I have to find my sister,” he told her.

As Jessie's face was illuminated by the flashing lights, she looked stricken and worried. 

“I’ll call you, though!” he promised.

“But -” she watched him run off, knowing she hadn't given him her number. She didn't even know his last name. 

“Jessie!” Roger yelled from somewhere to her left. Her eyes roved for him, and landed when he shouted again, waving his cell phone flashlight in his own face.

She ran to him, and they followed the swarming crowd outside. 

To her complete surprise, smoke was pouring out of the building and the fire department was pulling up. She had been certain someone had pulled the alarm as a prank. 

“Fuck it’s cold out here,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, as if that would do any good. Her coat was inside, a pair of wool tights tucked in one of the pockets. She'd planned to put them on in the bathroom before they left. 

“We should call it,” Lacey said. “Catch the next train. If we hurry we won't have to wait for another one.”

“But my coat’s in there,” Jessie complained. She hadn't made it, but she may as well have, she’d altered it so much. It was the best thing in her wardrobe. 

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Roger assured, “but Lacey’s right, we should get out of here. We’re soaked and it’s below freezing.”

It wasn't just the coat. She didn’t want to lose Matthew. She hoped she might run into him in the parking lot, but had yet to see him.   

Roger and Lacey were right. Her wet clothing was already starting to freeze - stiffening and biting into her skin. Glancing around the crowd once more, she hoped she might see him, but there were too many people moving in too many different directions. 

As Roger pulled her away, she hoped against hope the universe would bring them back together. It had been so long since she'd felt a spark like she had with him.

“Who was that girl you were kissing at midnight?” Taryn asked, her tone suggestive as she waggled her eyebrows at her oldest brother. 

“Her name is Jessie,” he said, looking around for Brady. He finally spotted him with Emma and some of the Sens guys across the parking lot. 

“Seemed pretty serious.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “We got on, that’s all.” 

“I’ve seen you look like that before, and that was not just getting on with someone,” Taryn argued. “I hope you got her number.” 

“I did,” he assured, then stopped dead in their pursuit through the crowd. 

Taryn ran into his back. “Matthew!” she complained. 

He was too busy digging his phone out of his pocket to apologize or move out of the way. Thankfully, it wasn’t ruined. As he opened his recent contacts, though, he found his fear confirmed. 

Taryn pushed on his back, “Matthew, move! I wanna get inside.” 

The older brother in him took control, wrapping his arm around Taryn's shoulder to lead them to Brady and finally into the car to go home. 

As they settled into the SUV, heat blasting to melt the ice that had formed in their hair and on their cheeks, Emma punched Matthew in the arm. “That was some New Year's kiss, Matty.” 

The disappointment of reality bit into him, and he snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Whoa,” Brady said in warning. 

Matthew leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The possibility of her was still buzzing on his skin. 

The future was being ripped out of his grasp. How could so much hope be dashed so quickly? So completely? He'd been making plans in his head. Immediately, where they were going to spend the night if she was willing. Beyond that, how he would see her whenever he was in New York, and beyond that? Hopefully something that ended up with them together. 

“Oh no,” Taryn whispered, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “You didn’t get her number did you?” 

He shook his head. 

“Oh, Matthew,” Taryn said, laying a hand on his back, “I’m sorry.” 

The rest of the night, he lay in Brady’s guest bedroom, Taryn in the bed next to his, and tried to relax. It wasn’t working. He could still feel the phantom of her grinding up against him, and if he thought about it too much, he got hard. 

Opening Instagram, he typed “Jessie” into the search. There were pages and pages of results. He scrolled through, hoping he might see her face. When the photos started to blur together, he clicked off the app. 

Feeling hopeless, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jessie’s face was etched on the inside of his eyelids. He saw her smiling, heard her laugh ringing in his ears, felt her lips so perfectly fitted between his own. They should have been tangled up in bed together. The actuality of his loneliness was a slap in the face every time he turned over. 

It was after four when he finally fell asleep.

He woke sometime around 10am when Taryn sat by his feet. 

“Mom wants to know why you’re still in bed,” she said when he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. “I told her you were hungover.” 

“Thanks,” he said dryly.  

“Listen, I heard you last night.” 

His hands dropped and he gave her a suspicious look. “And what did you hear last night?” 

She took a deep breath. “I heard you crying.” 

A groan fell out of his mouth as his head tipped back. He didn’t even try to deny it. It hadn’t lasted long, the crying, but he hadn’t been able to stop it for a few minutes. He was sure Taryn heard his sniffling. 

“Is this about that girl?” 

“Listen, Taryn, I don’t want to -” 

She cut in, “Matthew, I saw the way you looked after you kissed her. It’s the same way Brady looks at Emma.”

Shit. He was in deeper than he thought. And they hadn’t even slept together yet. He didn’t even know her last name. If he knew her last name, he’d be able to find her. 

Letting his hands fall in his lap, he slouched over, and let the reality of what happened wash over him again. He would get over it eventually, but now? It felt too close to push aside. 

Taryn’s hand came to rest on his knee, “I was thinking, what if she left something at the club? I mean, people must have left coats and things with the fire alarm. We could at least try. See if you can leave your number for her, or something.” 

A spark of hope flickered to life in his chest. “Yeah, that’s a really good idea.” 

Jessie wasn’t too surprised to see the tent in front of the club when they pulled up. The post on their Instagram page said they would be available for people to pick up their belongings all day. Two women were sitting there, bundled up to the hilt. As she got closer, she saw the propane heaters. At least that was something. 

“How can we help you, darlin?” 

“Yeah, I was here last night, and I hoped I could get my coat that I left with the coat check?” 

One of the women stood, “what does it look like?” 

“It’s a black wool trench, and it has sort of wavy lapels,” she demonstrated on herself. “There’s a pair of gray wool tights in the left pocket.” 

She walked over to a rack behind their table.

The Club had seen better days, that was for sure. Some of the glass had been blown out from the heat, and there were charred bricks on the front from where the flames had licked out the windows. 

“Is it condemned?” 

“No, but it’ll take us a while to remodel, especially with the winter,” the other woman said, giving her a smile. 

“Did they find out what caused it?” 

“Not yet, but we’re pretty sure it was some faulty wiring.” 

“Here we go. Is this it?” The other woman, the one with pink hair, turned the coat around. 

Jessie smiled, relieved, “Yes.”

As she reached for the coat, she debated about the next part. What was the harm really? She knew she would be kicking herself all the way home if she didn’t. 

“I know this is a little strange, but I met someone last night, but we were separated before we could exchange numbers, and I wondered if he’d come by?” 

“I’m not sure. We’ve seen quite a few people today.”

“His name was Matthew, and he had curly hair, light eyes, and he was tall.” 

They looked at each other, each shaking their head. “I don’t think we’ve seen anyone like that today.”

She wasn’t sure what she would have done if they had. 

“Do you want to leave a note for him, or something?” 

She chewed on her lip, petting the smoke soaked coat draped over her arm. If he happened to come by, it might work. But what if he didn’t? Or what if some other guy with curly hair came by, and they gave him her note? 

She shouldn’t have even asked. It was fruitless. What did she expect? That he would just walk out of the building: here I am! 

“No,” she said, defeated. “I was just hoping.”

“Well, love has a way of coming back when you least expect it.” 

It felt like such a throw-away thing to say. “Yeah, I hope so,” Jessie said, turning back to her parents' car, parked in the lot.  

Matthew walked up to the women sitting in front of the club. He knew he was used to the Florida warmth by now, and just despised the cold on principle, but sitting out here? In this? They were nuts. 

“Hi, honey,” the older, motherly looking one greeted, “did you leave something here last night?” 

Yeah, my future, he thought. 

“No, I was hoping,” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I met someone here last night and I was -” 

“Are you Matthew?” the other woman interrupted. 

His eyes shot to hers. “Yeah,” he said, breathless with anticipation. 

“Oh no,” the women looked at each other. One had her hand over her mouth. 

“Someone was just here looking for you.” 

Hope started hammering in his chest. 

“Pretty little thing, lovely red hair.” 

“Yeah,” his heart was running so fast he felt like he might be sick. 

“I’m so sorry honey, we asked her if she wanted to leave a note or something, but she decided not to.” 

Now he really was going to throw up. 

They had been so close. So close to meeting again. Why hadn’t she left a note? Why didn’t he just get her number last night? 

Because he’d planned on asking her for it in the morning. 

“Well, thanks anyway,” he said, hand falling limply at his side. 

“Good luck. I hope she finds her way back to you.” 

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the car. Taryn was watching with rapt anticipation. He shook his head and her expression fell. 

**Nine Months Later**

For the first time since moving, the bright Florida sunshine didn't make Jessie smile as she got out of bed. That September morning, she woke up to an anxious fluttering in her chest, trying to tell herself it was going to be a day like any other. She would go to the shop and sew that new sculptural blazer for the window. She'd help Raul with his clients and do the same things she’d been doing every other work day for the past three months. 

It didn’t matter that some of the Florida professional hockey team were coming in for suits for the new season. She’d already checked, and there wasn’t a Matthew on the books. 

Even if he did show up, he had probably moved on. It was just her romantic streak that kept him alive in her memory. 

After a few miserable, sulky hours on New Year's Day, Roger had finally suggested she look him up. 

“I don’t know his last name, Roge.” 

“Didn’t you say he plays hockey in Florida?” he’d asked, pulling out his phone. He found a roster for her to look through - all men in blue, none of them Matthew. There wasn’t even a Matthew on the team. 

“I think it’s hopeless,” she said. 

“Hold on, there’s another one.”

“Another what?” 

“Another team.” 

“Here, I think this is him?” he turned the phone around and Matthew was staring at her, a smug little smile on his face. 

Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were blue. And his hair was a dark blonde, with almost a gingery tone to it. 

“Matthew Tkachuk?” she asked, trying to pronounce all the letters. It came out a bit of a garbled mess. 

“Look him up on Insta.” 

So she had. She found him easily. He was verified with over 150 thousand followers. 

She messaged him, hoping. 

Hey this is Jessie from last night before the fire stole our thunder. 

He’d never even seen her message. She had checked every day for a while, then every couple of weeks until she'd all but forgotten about it, moving on with her life. 

Pulling out her phone now, she scrolled down to the thread. The date was still staring at her, no read notifications in sight. 

Matthew wasn't even all that great. That’s what she told herself every time she went on another failed date with some guy so boring she wanted to just drop off the chair and fall asleep on the bar floor. If she let herself believe he really was as charming and interested and built just for her as he’d seemed, she would never go on another set up or app date again. It had been the alcohol and the rush of the new year that had painted him in such rosy light. It was likely he was just another boring dude like all the rest. 

The pink lace she put on under her clothes before going to work was for her, and she wasn’t hoping anyone would get to see it. 

She absorbed herself with structuring the new women’s blazer all morning until the appointment at 2. 

Matthew wasn’t entirely certain why he’d agreed to go with Benny that afternoon. He already had a suit guy in St. Louis. He didn’t need another one. But Sam was persuasive, a few other guys were going, and Matthew was always looking for something new. When you have to wear the same item of clothing over and over again, might as well make it something interesting. 

Walking into the little shop, he could see why Sam liked it. There were racks and racks of interesting fabrics. Subtle and bold patterns and solid colors he never would have considered for a suit before. 

As the other guys got to browsing, Matthew wandered over to the wall of photos. In every one, a short, dark haired man was posing with various people in beautiful suits. Sam was up there as were Barky and Bob. He didn’t know they came here too. Apparently, this was the place to be. 

Something rustled in the back, and he turned. Nothing was there, but a glass cabinet that housed a display of cufflinks. 

“Matthew?” 

His head shot up. 

A pretty young woman who wasn't in any of the photos was standing in the doorway behind the display case, holding up the heavy velvet curtain. He could see a row of sewing machines under her arm. She had on a blue skirt and a green blouse. A fabric flower was attached to her wrist, a porcupine of pins sticking out of it. 

His breath locked in his chest. She was here. In Florida. She was in front of him. The girl from the New Years Eve party he couldn’t quite convince himself to let go of for half a season and the whole summer. 

Her hair was shorter than it had been - ending at her collar bone - and a dark auburn red. He supposed it had probably always been that color. She had creamy pale skin with a dusting of freckles across her nose, and shit, had her eyes always been that green? 

He’d never seen her out of that harsh club lighting, he realized. Of course she would be prettier in the daylight. 

The murmuring behind him hushed into silence, and his mind went completely blank, as if he’d never had a thought in his life. 

“Hey,” he heard himself say. The shock of seeing her was so intense, he couldn’t remember her name. He’d just been thinking about her last week after another failed third date.

Sam shot him a questioning look.  

He was in shock. He was overwhelmed. He was… he was… he was acting like an idiot. 

His heart thundered in his ears. She was looking at him like she was trying to figure out if he remembered who she was. 

“Jessie,” she said hesitantly, pointing to her chest. “From New Years?”

Didn’t he remember? His face was branded into her memory. The dream of him - of them - roared to life in her chest unbidden. Her body reacted instantly, as if no time had passed. 

Right. Jessie, Jessie, Jessie, he thought.

Cool. He needed to play this cool. “Oh, hey,” he said. “How’ve you been?” 

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Hope fell right off her face. He saw the moment it happened, and it sliced through him like a knife to the gut. 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

She wasn’t some old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in a while. She was the girl he kept coming back to. The one he thought about after failed dates or that relationship that started at the beginning of the summer only to fizzle out six weeks later. She was his, it might have been, girl.

The man walked in then, forcing her into the shop. “Ah, I see you have met Jessica. She just graduated from FIT in New York,” he bragged, “and is helping us expand into womens suiting. She’s also a marvelous tailor, so she’ll be helping with the suits as well. Jessica, these are the clients I was telling you about. From the ice hockey team. Good clients. They like interesting things.” 

She painted a smile on her face that almost looked convincing. “I can’t wait to help.” 

“You,” Raul said, “I don't know you.”

“Matthew,” he said, holding a hand out to the older Italian man. “Sam said you make the best suits on the eastern seaboard.”

Raul pulled out the leather bound book that served as his ledger, and flipped to the section Jessie had been looking at that morning, simply marked, Hockey.

“Last name?” he asked. 

He spelled it out, then pronounced it, “Tkachuk. The T is silent.” 

Raul nodded, noting the silent letter next to his name. 

“Jessica and I will take your measurements,” he said, gesturing him over to the plinth near the mirrors surrounded by dark wood. 

Jessie picked up a notebook and followed Raul. Matthew had definitely recognised her, he’d been shocked by her appearance, even. Then he treated her like…like a one night stand or an acquaintance he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to reunite with. It hurt more than it should have to have the things she was telling herself come true. 

She had hoped Raul would let her help the other clients, but luck seemed to be against her. At least he hadn’t handed her the tape. She didn’t know what she would have done if  her hands brushed against Matthew’s body. She already felt on edge just being in the same room as him. 

“Very important to get the thigh measurement with these hockey players,” Raul was saying as he threaded a measuring tape around Matthews upper thigh. “Big legs.” 

“It’s from all the skating,” Matthew said, almost out of habit. 

Jessie was doing a very good job of not looking at him. She had a little notebook in her hands and she kept her eyes trained on it as she wrote down every body part and corresponding number Raul called out. Upper thigh, lower thigh, calf, hip to knee, knee to ankle. Matthew had been measured like this before, so he just stood still and let the man do his work. 

“So, Jessie, right?” Josh asked, leaning onto one of the mirrors, nearby where she was standing, not quite in Matthew’s peripheral vision. 

She hummed in agreement. Raul was still calling out numbers to her, and she couldn’t divide her focus that well. 

“What brought you all the way down to Florida from New York?” 

Matthew clenched his jaw to keep from telling Josh off. As much as he wanted it, he didn’t have any claim over Jessie.

“Um,” she said, still jotting numbers. She spared a glance at him. He had long, unruly, dark hair, dark eyes, and a goofy smile. She smiled back, “can you give me just a minute to finish up here?” she asked, pointing at Matthew’s stomach with the cap of her pen. 

Josh blushed, “yeah, of course.” 

She went back to her notebook, face impassive once more. 

Josh stayed where he was. 

“So Chucky, what do you think about the schedule this year?” 

Matthew shrugged, then snapped himself back into place at Rauls reprimand. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Jessie gagged internally. hoping that wasn’t really his nickname. Chucky was either a possessed doll, or a possessed rat mascot, neither of which she liked to think about for very long. 

They continued to talk about something with their team. When she and Raul finished, she handed the notebook off to him, which he would transcribe into the ledger. He still didn’t trust her to do it the way he liked. 

Matthew didn’t move off the plinth, but she turned to the other man, “sorry, what was your question?” 

She sounded so polite, so formal. Sure, they’d only met that one night, but she hadn’t been guarded like this at that club in Ottawa. He supposed that was probably his fault. God, why was he such an idiot?

“I wondered what brought you to Florida. It’s a long way from New York.” 

“Oh, the heat,” she said. “I was so tired of the north-east cold.”

“And you know Raul…”

“He and one of my mentors are great friends, and he got us in touch. I have some family down here, and wanted to live somewhere warm for a change. Raul wanted to expand into some womenswear, and tailoring happens to be one of my specialties.” She said it without much emotion. Just stating the facts. “We met, I made him and myself a suit to audition, and here we are.” 

Matthew opened his mouth to say something about how he was glad she was here, but she walked away before he could force the words out. 

Josh gave him a look that said something like, women, right? 

Matthew walked away before he said something stupid.

“While I update the rest of your measurements, Jessica can help you with fabrics. She’s excellent with color. Jessica, why don’t you get the samples and help them pick out what they need.” 

She nodded, went into the back and came out with five big binders. She set them on the table, and flipped some of them open. 

She helped Reino pick out a dark teal, a blue and a few subtle plaids before moving on to someone else. 

Matthew was the last at the table. 

“What are you looking for?” she asked, trying to keep her voice and demeanor level. No need to let him know how her heart still pounded just looking at him when it was so obvious he didn’t care about her. 

“I'm always looking for something interesting,” he said. “What would you suggest?” 

Her eyes darted up to his face. His eyes were so blue - much more intense in person. He had the kind of eyes poets say hold summer skies and glacial lakes. It was the first time she really saw them, and they took her breath away. 

“Well,” she forced herself back to work, “you could pull off almost anything with your coloring. How adventurous are you?” 

“I’m willing to try anything once,” he said, trying to sound flirtatious. It just came off desperate. 

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “How many suits are you looking for?” 

“Eight,” he said. 

He didn’t need eight suits. But if it kept him at this table for longer, he would buy as many as she would sell him. 

“All for here?” 

“For here?”

“To be worn here, in Florida? The others have mentioned needing some for travel.”

“Oh, I’ll need three or four for travel, three at least for the cold.” 

They talked through colors. She opened a binder she hadn’t given anyone else. None of the other guys were as handsome, or seemed as adventurous with their style as Matthew. 

“If you’re brave enough, I think this lilac would look really good on you,” she said, pulling the pastel fabric sample off the board and holding it up. He was more bronze than he had been when they’d met, but it would still look good when his summer tan faded. 

“Okay,” he said. He trusted her style. He’d never worn lilac, but if she thought it would look good, he’d give it a shot.

Jessie got the feeling he was just agreeing with her to get this whole thing over with. Still, she couldn’t help pulling the best fabrics for him, even an expensive light blue linen blend that would make him look like Brad Pitt in Santorini. He didn't balk when she mentioned the price. He didn't even seem to notice. 

“Chucky, how did you know Jessie?” Bennet said as they walked down the block to the public parking they’d all met at. 

“A party,” he said, trying to sound non-committal. 

People got into their cars, but before Matthew could leave, Benny came up to his driver's window. “You wanna tell us what’s going on?” 

“You’re never this quiet,” Reino said from his place on Benny’s left. 

Matthew sighed and got out of the car. This was going to take a while. Sam had always been a bit of a brother to him and he knew he wouldn’t let him go without an explanation. 

“Jessie and I met last New Years Eve,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the hood of his car. 

“Okay, and what did you do? Hookup and never call her again?” 

“No!” He sounded too defensive, even to his own ears. 

Reino raised an eyebrow, “so what happened?” 

His hands raked into his hair so he didn't have to look at them as he told the story. “We met at this club in Ottawa, and we had this amazing connection. I've never felt anything like it before. Like, boom: Instant chemistry.” It felt even worse to say it out loud. 

Both guys just waited. 

“But the club caught fire.” 

“Wait, what?” Benny asked. “Really?”

“I know, man,” Matthew said, throwing his hands up, “and I thought I had her number, so I left her to find Taryn, but I didn’t, and I couldn't find her after. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again, and then, all of a sudden she was here,” he gestured in the direction of the shop, “and I just…” 

“Fucked it?” Benny asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“So go back and talk to her,” Reino said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

He scoffed. “What would I say? ‘Hey, sorry I completely forgot your name and treated you like our connection didn't matter, but I actually haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past nine months?’” 

“Better than not saying anything,” Benny said. 

Matthew shook his head, “I can’t go back in there.” 

“Why not?” 

“You didn’t see her face. There’s no way she wants to talk to me.” 

A few weeks later, Jessie was piecing Matthew’s jacket from the blue linen in the back of the shop. The fabric was so light and delicate, she couldn’t even have music going while working with it. One wrong move and there would be pulled threads all over the place. She knew Raul would disapprove, but she gave herself twice the seam allowance to make sure she could finish the inside raw edges. Otherwise the fabric would start to pull apart - eventually, quite literally, fraying at the seams. 

“Uh, hello?” someone asked. 

She jumped and dropped the scissors. She let them clatter to the floor with a curse. She’d been so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t heard the bell ring. 

“One second,” she called, before securing her pattern with an extra pin, picking up the scissors and coming out to the sales floor. 

“Hi, sorry about that. I got kind of in the zone. What can I do for you?” 

It was one of the hockey guys. The one with strawberry hair. She couldn’t help but glance around him to see if he’d brought anyone with him. 

She shouldn’t even be looking for Matthew, especially considering he'd ignored all of her phone calls about his suiting. All the same, seeing him again had awoken her longing in a way she couldn’t quite tamp down. 

“Raul said I had some suits he wanted me to try on,” he said. 

She asked his name, then went to the back to retrieve the garment bag. She remembered this one. She’d convinced him an oxblood red wouldn’t look too harsh with his coloring, and she was hoping he would like the results. 

Giving him a pair of pants, she left him in the changing room while she cut extra threads on the inside of the jacket.

Immediately, she could see the pants were a smidge too loose. They talked about his preferred fit, and he avoided looking at her as she pinned the inner thigh. All men reacted this way, but to Jessie, this was all about the garment. As far as she was concerned, he was a mannequin under these clothes. 

Finally, the questions that had been ruminating in her mind got the best of her. “So, did Matthew get traded or something?” 

“Chucky?” he asked, surprised.  

“I guess so.” 

“No,” he was laughing as he said it, “he has seven more years on his contract.”

“Oh.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ve just called him a few times about measurements, or fittings, and he’s never called back or come in.”

“Really? He told me he was here yesterday.” 

Of course he was coming in on her day off. Why had she even told him that in the message?

She stood up, and moved onto the jacket after asking him if he ever planned to wear it with a sweater. He wasn’t sure. Or if she should shorten the sleeves. He liked them a little longer. 

“Chucky told us what happened in Ottawa,” he said. 

Jessie felt her shoulders tense, but kept working. “Yeah?” she asked, not daring to look up. All this still felt too close to the surface, and she didn’t want this man she barely knew to know how much it had hurt when Matthew brushed her aside. 

“Yeah, he said he looked for you after the fire.” 

“I tried to stay, but my cousins and I were soaking wet and it was below freezing so we had to catch the train.” 

“He said he went back the next day and you’d been there, but didn’t leave a note.” 

That made Jessie gasp. Audibly. She blushed and tried to brush it off, “I was worried it might go to the wrong person,” she said, “plus I messaged him on Instagram and he never responded.” 

He hummed, debating the best way to approach this. He wanted to do some digging without letting on that’s what he was doing. “He said you guys had quite the connection.” 

Was she really going to go into this with one of his teammates? She hadn’t talked to anyone about it but Roger. Words bubbled up into her mouth so fast, she guessed she was. 

“Yeah, we did.” God, why did she have to sound so moony?

“Do you think there’s still something there?” 

“He made it pretty obvious there’s not.” 

“I don’t think he meant to do that. He was pretty shocked to see you.”

“I was shocked to see him too, but I didn’t just brush him aside.” 

“Listen, Jessie - it’s Jessie, right?”

She nodded.

“Matthew can be pretty thick. He gets so in his head, sometimes he doesn’t really think things through, but he told us what happened, and how much he liked you, and he said he fucked it and you wouldn’t want to see him again.”

She hummed, and got him a new suit to try on. She’d been right. The oxblood did look killer on him, like he could be in a GQ shoot. He looked impressed. 

“Would you want to see him again?” Sam asked. 

“If he came in here himself?”

He nodded. 

“I’d at least give him a chance.” 

Even though she would usually just move on, she’d never felt anything like the instant connection she and Matthew shared on New Years. It was the kind of thing she thought only existed in books and rom coms. Experiencing it in real life made it into something she couldn’t just walk away from.  

They talked about where they were from and made comfortable small talk for the duration of the fitting. She told him how relieved she was when Raul trusted her enough to run the shop by herself one day a week. 

“Listen, I’ll tell Chucky to come by next Wednesday. We’re leaving for the opening roadie that day, but I’ll try to get his head out of his ass before then.” 

She giggled. 

He could see why Matthew liked her, and could see how their personalities would match up well. She was kind and easy to talk to - quiet at first, but got louder as she got comfortable, and Chucky was just loud all the time. He could tell they both valued relationships more than things. 

The next week, after their final practice before the season opening road trip, Benny cornered Matthew in his stall. “You need to go see Jessie.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me, man.”

“The way she asked me about you last week would say otherwise.”

He scoffed. 

“I told her you still like her -”

“You what?!”

“She brought you up first, and you weren't doing shit, so don’t tell me I'm ruining your plans or some bull. She said she's called you a bunch of times, but you only show up when she's not there.”

“It's just easier,” Matthew mumbled. It wasn't his fault she told him when she'd be gone.

Benny rolled his eyes. “Dude, wake up. She still likes you.” 

Matthew looked at him, skeptical, “she told you that?” 

“Yes, but she didn’t need to. The first thing she asked me was if you’d been traded. We weren’t even talking about you.”

 A ridiculous amount of hope lit up his face.

“I knew it! You still like her too!”

What’s not to like? Matthew thought.

“She runs the shop on Wednesdays. Just go talk to her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went there last Wednesday, dumbass. She told me.” 

Matthew hesitated, still unconvinced. 

“Go. Now. I’ll drive you myself if I have to. I’m sick and tired of you moping around when there’s such an easy solution to your problem.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going,” Matthew said, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“And check your instagram. She said she sent you a message.” 

Usually when she walked onto the sales floor after the doorbell dinged, Jessie would have to search for someone among the racks of fabric samples and ready to be tailored suits. This time, a man was standing at the counter, watching her with the same determined intensity he’d shown the first time they met.

He was here. Finally. Four of his suits had been sitting in the storage room for more than a week, further proof that he was avoiding her. 

“Hi Matthew,” she greeted hesitantly. 

“Hey Jessie.”

They looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment. 

“Can I help you with something?” 

“Yeah, Raul told me some of the suits were ready?”

“They are.”

“I just came to pick those up.” 

“Oh,” the tiny spark of hope fizzled out again. Sam must not have made it through to him. 

She looked instantly downcast. 

To hell with it. He couldn't make any more of an ass of himself. “And I wanted to see you,” he blurted.

“You wanted to see…me?” she repeated, pulling a pen from her ponytail to start fiddling with it. He didn’t know why, but it struck him as such an endearing gesture. 

“Yeah,” he said, heart falling. Was Sam setting him up? He was a prankster, but not to this level, usually. Not when it was this important. 

“Why would you want to see me?” she asked, feeling that guard go up. Every time she got her hopes up about Matthew, he tore them down.

Thoughts raced through his mind. He could lie so easily, but where would that get him? It was time to just own up and blurt it out. Her reaction be damned. “Because I really like you.”

She looked surprised. Way more surprised than he’d expected. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I thought you must hate me since I forgot your name and acted like such an ass that first day.”

Shaking her head, Jessie wondered how on earth they got into this situation. “I mean, I was disappointed, but then, you backed it up by never coming to the shop when I was working, I thought you must be trying to avoid me.”

“I was.”

One of her eyebrows shot up.

“Not like that,” he floundered. “Like, I couldn’t stand to see you and remember how well we got on, and how much I like you, and how pretty you are when I knew I'd blown my chance and you hated me.”

She let out a laugh. “That makes no sense. What did I ever do to make you think I hated you? I called you every time something was finished, or we needed a new measurement. I gave you the best fabric selections.”

Had that been because she liked him? “I don’t know, it did in my brain. I guess I was so embarrassed I forgot your name when I like you so much, I was telling myself you must be angry with me.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “You know, Matthew, for someone so smart, you can be pretty dumb.” 

“You think I’m smart?” He’d been called many things in his life, but smart was rarely one of them. 

“Yes. I think you’re very smart, except when it comes to romance, I guess.” 

He chuffed a laugh, grabbing the back of his neck. “I really fucked this one up, didn’t I?” 

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to be cool and hoping against hope that this last shot would land on target. If it didn’t, she was kicking him out and scrubbing him from all her memories. “I think you might still have a chance.” 

His eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah?” 

She nodded. 

Heart pounding, but trying to keep that flirty, cool skin on, he walked around the counter to remove the barrier between them. 

Knowing he still liked her brought all those feelings from the club rushing back. She’d never felt like that with anyone else. If only he knew how many times she’d replayed that night. How many times she remembered how he felt and how no one had ever kissed her like that, or swept her off her feet so quickly.

“Play your cards right,” she said, feeling breathless with the nearness of him. “And I think you might get another chance at bat.”

As he leaned in closer, her pupils dilated, and her eyes darted to his mouth. He licked his lips just to see her force her eyes back to his like last time. Her blush was even more adorable in the daylight.

“If I swing, what are my odds of getting a home run?” 

She laughed. It didn’t break the spell. It turned out that palpable chemistry was still between them, just waiting to be ignited. Their eye contact was hot and glued together.

“Maybe not today,” she said, “but I think it’s a safe bet that you’ll get on base.” 

Time moved in slow motion as he leaned in further, looking at her mouth, then her neck, then her cleavage, barely visible through the two undone buttons of her starched, white shirt, before snapping back to hers as she stopped him with a hand pressed tightly to his chest.  

“We can’t do this here. There are cameras on the floor,” she said. 

His head dropped forward in defeat. “I have to leave for Vegas in two hours,” he said, feeling more than a bit desperate. “I really don’t want to wait until I’m back.” 

“I don’t want to either, but I’m telling you, if Raul catches me making out with a client, I’m going to be out on my ass.” 

“So what do we do?”

She thought for a moment before an idea struck her. “Follow me.” 

She made a big show of walking into the back, digging his new lilac suit out of the garment bag and hanging it in the private dressing room. “You go in there. When I come back and ask you how it’s fitting, you need to tell me something needs to be adjusted and invite me in, okay?” 

“Right. Yeah, okay.” 

She put out the sign that said she would return soon and locked the front door. It wasn’t that unusual to lock up when they were helping a high profile client, anyway. Plus, Wednesdays were always the slowest day of the week, hence why she was allowed to man the shop alone. She just hoped Raul wouldn’t have any reason to review the tapes. 

Her whole chest felt like it was full of helium as she walked back to him. Were they really about to do this? 

“Everything going okay in there?” she asked. 

“Something’s wrong with this suit jacket,” he said. “Can you come take a look?” 

Upon entering, she found Matthew with his shirt already off.

Sweet Jesus, she was not prepared for that. For his sculpted body, and his chest hair, that tapered into a thin trail running down the center of his abs before it dipped enticingly into the waistband of his pants. 

“That’s not fair,” she said. 

“What’s not fair?” he reached for her and drew her to him, hands splaying over her waist.

“You’re already half naked,” she said, eyes wandering down his chest again. 

“You could be too,” he teased, playfully pulling at the shirt tucked into her waistband. He didn’t actually pull any of the fabric loose, which she appreciated. He was letting her set the pace.

“Damn, Jessie. You’re the only woman I know who can make a pant suit look sexy.” 

She laughed, and pulled the whole shirt over her head, leaving her in a white camisole, a black lace bra peeking out from underneath it. 

“Do you always wear black lingerie to work?” he asked, voice gone husky as he ran a finger under one of the straps. 

“Only when I think you might come in.” 

His eyes snapped to hers, thrilled but questioning. 

“Sam told me he was going to try to get you to come by today.”

“So this really is for me?” he felt dizzy with the prospect.

“No. It’s for me. I put it on this morning, thinking that at the very least if you came in and you were an ass again, you wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing how hot I look in my bra,” she said, before stripping off the camisole so he could see exactly how hot she looked in her bra. 

Seeing her, in black suit pants, a gold belt buckle flashing at her waist, and her sheer, floral lace bra that plunged between her breasts, the breath was sucked out of his lungs. 

His ongoing ache for her intensified, pressing insistently against the confines of his jeans. 

He stepped toward her when she once again stopped his progress with a hand to the chest. “I really like you, Matthew,” she said, swooning a little at the happiness that lit up his face, “but I was serious. I don't want to have sex.” 

“Can you define that a little more?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like you don't want oral sex, or…” 

She wouldn't have guessed oral sex would even be on the table. She practically had to beg past boyfriends for it. 

“I mean I don't want to have penetrative sex. The first time with someone new is hard enough. I don't want to make it more complicated by taking a bed out of the equation.” 

“I get that. Plus, it'll give me something to look forward to when I get back,” he said with a grin and a cheeky wink. 

God, maybe they really were made for each other. 

As his left hand slipped to the back of her neck, the other spread over her rib cage, thumb brushing against the soft lace that cupped her breast. 

She sucked in a breath, letting her hand ghost up his torso over the ridges and valleys, until her fingers hooked over his shoulder. The other slid around to his back.

It felt like it had been a million years since they’d last done this. Not the touching, not the skin to skin, which felt like…it felt like heaven, but the longing. 

Jessie was looking at him with that same hope and lust in her eyes. It made his stomach twist with that same wanting to fulfill them both. 

It was so long coming, he wanted to savor every movement, every breath, every glance. Her eyes were so green. Somehow even more green up close. 

Finally, when their lips met, she sighed, melting against him. 

This was all together more intense and less hurried than their first kiss had been. It was a slow burn, a thorough seduction, a fulfillment of everything Matthew had been dreaming of that night they lost each other. 

When he pulled away, their heavy breaths crashed together. 

Fingertips sliding up her back, he tried to memorize the feel of her. Her skin was so soft. 

Jessie was growing impatient. Any other moment, she would love this slow seduction. Most of the time she felt like men moved too fast. Today though, she had so much sexual frustration built up for him that the weight of desire was already heavy between her legs. 

Taking matters into her own hands, she leaned in and trailed her mouth along his jaw before nipping the soft spot behind it, just under his ear. He shuddered when she soothed it with her tongue. 

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” she confessed, barely above a whisper.

That snapped him into action. Taking her waist, he pulled her flush to him, and crushed his mouth to hers. 

There was the passion she’d been looking for. 

As they surged together, she felt so restless and turned on, she tried to hook a knee over his hip in an attempt to slot him between her legs. 

Groaning against her, his hand slid over her rear and down her leg to keep it elevated and wrapped around him. 

Kissing her was so much better than he remembered. How was that possible? She was so good in his dreams. In reality, she was living - flesh and bone and wanting - and he couldn’t get enough. 

Moving to her neck, he sucked her pulse point. He felt her tremble against him, but her hand still came up to pull him back to her mouth. “Nothing visible, okay? I have to go back to work.” 

He nodded and caught her lips. It might be too late for that one, but he wouldn’t do it again. 

Her desire was a wildfire, consuming every part of her. It wanted to consume him, too. 

When she tucked two of her fingers behind the button of his jeans, a moan fell into her mouth. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” 

She tore the zipper down, and palmed him through his boxers. His hips jumped into her hand as a moan ripped from his throat.

His fingers fumbled to her belt buckle and paused. 

“Please,” she whimpered. 

He was clumsy with desperation and the distraction of her kissing and biting his neck, but he finally got it open and her pants undone. 

The weight of the buckle sunk the waistband to the floor with a heavy clink, and Jessie stepped out of it, kicking off her shoes at the same time. Sinking her hand into his pants, she shoved them down his muscular legs. 

He nearly fell over in his attempt to get out of his shoes so he could free himself from the shackle of the fabric around his ankles. 

Jessie giggled, and moved with him as he stepped away. He finally got his first look at her in her underwear. Made of some fabric he couldn’t name, they were also black and cut high on her hip. He could see it was a thong in the mirrored wall behind her. 

His jaw grew heavy with longing, but managed to make his mouth work enough to tell her, “you’re so beautiful, Jessie.”

“Thank you. I think you’re really handsome.” she said, running a hand down his chest. And he was - he could be a living sculpture in the Greek wing of the Louvre with his curly hair and sculpted body. 

Sliding his hands over her hips, he pulled her to him once more. He hesitated for a moment, and Jessie took charge, too impatient to wait. “Matthew?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I really appreciate you getting my consent, I really, really do, but you can just move forward. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” 

“Okay.” 

She captured his mouth again and the fire roared to life between them, stoked hotter by so much skin touching skin. 

Sneaking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he pushed them down, trusting that she would stop him if she wanted to.

She didn’t want him to. 

His fingers traced back up her leg and when he stroked her, she broke from the kiss to let her head lull forward onto his shoulder. Her panting breaths were the stuff of his dreams. She was already so wet, and he wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure. 

“Oh,” she moaned when he explored more, running a couple of rough fingers from her entrance to her throbbing bundle of nerves. She rocked into his hand, and he took the hint, caressing her over and over again until she was trembling and moaning. 

“Matthew,” her voice was wrecked: desperate and thick with longing. 

“What do you need?” 

“Your fingers,” she begged, “inside me.” 

He obeyed, following the rhythm she set. Pressing the pad of his thumb to her clit, a wicked, self satisfied smile took over his face as her head tipped back, and her breath hitched. 

He rutted against her thigh in an attempt to pacify some of his own lust. 

“Oh,” she moaned, “just like that.” Her hands slid to his arms, clinging to his biceps. 

He wanted to eat her pleasure for breakfast - sustain himself with it on long, lonely nights. He knew he would dream of her voice and all her little sounds through the whole ten days away, anxious to come back to the very actual reality of her. He kept having to remind himself this wasn’t a dream.

Body shaking, she cried out. 

Feeling her core pulse around him again and again, the release was so long coming, it seemed to go on forever.

Matthew continued to stroke and leaned in, kissing her right through her orgasm.

As her breathing finally slowed, he eased his fingers from her. 

“Oh my god,” she said, still clutching him to stay upright. “I’m so pissed we had to wait nine months for this.” 

Laughter barked out of his mouth.

When she could make her hands work, Jessie pulled his hard, hot length from his boxers, and stroked a few times. 

His mouth fell open, and he panted, “it’s bullshit, right?”

“Such bullshit,” she agreed, devouring the pleasure that washed over his face.

“Wait,” he said, grasping her wrist. “I want this to last.” 

“You already got me off,” she said. “What do you need to wait for?” 

“I'm not going until you've come at least twice. What's the point of women being able to have multiple orgasms if I can't give them to you?”

That was some flawed logic, but she allowed him to pull her hand away. She wasn’t going to say no.

“Can I taste you?” 

“If you want,” she said hesitantly, as if he might be pulling some kind of prank. She'd never had a man offer to go down on her first.

“I do want,” he said, guiding her to lean against the mirrored wall and sinking to his knees. “I've been wondering how you taste since we met.”

Maybe that oral fixation all the girls talked about online was actually true.

“Can you put your leg up here?” he asked, sliding a gentle hand to the back of her knee, and lifting so the joint bent around his palm. He guided her foot to the stool. 

When he looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with excitement, she retraced their steps to get there. Not even ten minutes before would she have expected to end up with Matthew Tkachuk eating her out in the back dressing room. 

“That feels okay?” he confirmed, palm stroking back up her thigh.

God, he was even making sure she was comfortable. Her whole body fluttered in anticipation. “Yeah,” she breathed. 

Every other time a man had given her oral, they were fast and sloppy, obviously trying to get it over with as soon as possible. With Matthew, he seemed to be dragging it out for his own pleasure, tasting and teasing like he just couldn’t get enough. He was driving her crazy - winding her tighter and tighter. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. It was better than any of his dreams. Better than any fantasy. “More. Please. More.” 

She felt his lips briefly curve into a smile against her before he really got to work. Licking with the whole flat of his tongue, then flicking with the tip, he was suddenly everywhere. 

Her hand scrambled for purchase on the wall behind her. Met only with the slick mirror, her fingers fumbled into his hair, searching for anything to hold on to. 

He groaned into her, almost as if in pain.

“O-okay?” she asked, voice shaking as she attempted to loosen her grip.

When she felt his response but couldn't hear it, it took all her willpower to push him away. She was not going to hurt him, especially when he had been so insistent on her consent. She could feel his hard breathing rushing over her and it set her skin to trembling. 

“Okay?” she asked again. 

“Good,” he assured, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I'll let you know if you pull too hard,” he said with a wink before diving back in. 

Her head thunked back against the mirror. He really was made for her, that was the only explanation. 

 God, she was perfect. She tasted like paradise, like water in the desert, like his favorite meal after a long period of fasting. She satiated his every craving. 

Pleasure began to tingle low in her pelvis. It loosened her hips and turned her legs to putty. She'd never had a man take this much interest, let alone put so much effort into her pleasure. She moaned something unintelligible, even to her own ears.

His competitive drive growled into a higher gear, demanding to please her until she whimpered and begged. He licked and sucked and spelled his own name with his tongue, gauging where she liked to be touched most. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. “Oh my god, Matthew.”

He slipped a finger into her, and she cried out. Her hand tightened in his hair when he added another. 

A whimper on every exhale, she panted, trying to keep some semblance of control. It shattered when he gently kneaded her g spot. 

Pleasure thundered low in her belly, and she was forced over the cliff, glad to know Matthew would be there to catch her fall. Her vision turned hazy as she crashed. Time and space exploded into nothing more than shadowy constructs. She heard herself shout as if listening from another room.

When she came back to herself, Matthew was still languidly tasting her folds, one of his forearms braced over her hips to keep her upright. 

Pushing him away from her core, she tried to catch her breath. 

As he sat back, he wiped his face with his free hand. The satisfaction of pleasing her rumbled contentedly in his chest. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I fucking love you.” 

He laughed, a look of delighted surprise on his face.

The reality of what she'd just said hit her and Jessie covered her face with her hands, “oh my god. I can't believe I just said that out loud.”

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me during sex.” 

Relief sunk into her bones. Soul mates. They had to be soul mates. 

A few moments later, she finally found her feet and pushed away from the mirror.

“Alright,” she said, reaching for him and wrapping her fingers around his erection. He stumbled toward her, anxious to feel more. 

She smoothed the precome leaking from the tip onto the shaft with her thumb. “I think it's my turn to taste now.” 

Matthew wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected her to do, but lowering to her knees in front of him right away hadn't been at the top of the list. He expected her to jerk him off for a minute, maybe kiss and tease him a little. Not that he was complaining. If she was willing, he'd gladly accept. 

“Do you like more suction or more mouth?” she asked before licking the underside of his shaft. 

Oh God.

“I dont - I don't care.” He wasn't sure he was even going to last long enough for it to make a difference. He felt so close to the surface already. 

“You don't care?” she repeated, sitting back on her haunches to look up at him. 

With her mouth off of him, he could explain his reasoning a little better. 

“Frankly, I've been dreaming about this for so long, I could almost bust just from seeing you on your knees.” 

She was flattered and also a little relieved she wasn't the only one. 

“Okay,” she said as she reached up to pump him a few times. “Something we'll figure out later.”

The fact that she was thinking about the future, too, made him weak. 

Her lips wrapped around his tip, tongue caressing, and he was right there. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Jessie,” he moaned, “god that feels good.”

Was it the best blow job ever? Objectively no, but it was Jessie, so it felt more important than any that came before it. He felt like he was fifteen again, getting his first head, amazed by everything and having no restraint. 

“I'm - I'm gonna come,” he moaned, trying to pull back so as not to come in her mouth. 

Jessie would rather have it in her mouth than all over her, so she gripped the backs of his thighs to keep him in place. 

“Oh, fuck.” How could she possibly be this perfect? 

She sucked and caressed and he exploded with a long low groan. 

She kept licking, albeit more gently, until he pulled back, sensitivity making it too much to bear.

“Holy shit,” he said. The room felt muggy and he felt content in a way he'd been longing for since they'd lost each other. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. 

He helped her to her feet, and pulled her against him, wanting to feel her close. 

A while later, her phone, which had fallen out of one of her pants pockets, buzzed and the time flashed. 

“Shit! I have to go,” he said, scrambling for his clothes. “I still have stuff to pack!” 

“When’s your flight?”

“In an hour, but I have to drive home and then to the airport.”

They rushed to get their clothes back on. He hated seeing her bra disappear under the camisole again. 

As soon as he was dressed, he grabbed her jaw and kissed her. Her hands floated from tucking her shirt to cup his face. 

He'd just had her, but the wanting roared back to life as soon as she touched him, as if his body was trying to remind him what was possible between them. Like he could ever forget. 

“This was so amazing. I promise I'll take you on a real date when I'm back, and I'll call you while I’m gone,” he said. “I'm sorry I have to dash out of here.”

He kissed her again, hard and purposefully, before rushing out of the dressing room. 

“Wait!” she chased him onto the sales floor still tucking her shirt, “my number. You need my number.” 

“Oh my god,” he slapped a palm to his forehead. “I can't believe I almost left without it again!”

She giggled, “you're not getting away from me this time.”

They exchanged numbers and Matthew raced home. 

He rushed to pack the last of his things, grateful for the example his dad set, in always having a base bag packed the day before a road trip just in case something came up. 

He was the last one on the plane, a first for him.

“Chucky just got fucked!” someone yelled. 

Matthew felt his cheeks get hot. His hair was probably wild from Jessie's hands, and he could feel the love bite on his neck, a sure sign it would soon be a full blown mark. 

Reino met his eyes and raised a brow. Jessie? he mouthed. 

Matthew nodded. 

He wiped the back of his hand over his brow in mock relief. 

“Oh thank God,” Bennett exclaimed from across the aisle. “I thought I was going to have to lock you two in a room until you got together.”

Matthew laughed. 

When he got settled, he sent Jessie a text. Just on the plane, but I'm missing you already. I'm back on the 14th, so pencil me in for that date. 

I have you in for the weekend. We have a lot of time to make up for. 

Fanciction Masterlist

#the winter fic exchange 2k24 #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #hockey romance #hockey fic #hockey smut

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Booklist:

Books to become your dream girl. This list is curated to unleash the empowered woman inside, tap into your dark feminine energy, and help you succeed in every area of life. Sections are listed below:

Self-Development/Mindset 

Seductive Psychology 

Femme Fatale/Dark Feminine/Feminist Reads 

Business/Finance/Entrepreneurship 

Productivity

Mental Health 

Physical Health 

Fashion & Beauty

Get educated. Expand your mind. Enjoy xx

Self-Development/Mindset:

Mindset: The New Psychology of Success by Carol Dweck

The Magic of Thinking Big by David Schwartz

Atomic Habits by James Clear

You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay

Don’t Believe Everything You Think by Joseph Nguyen

The Mountain Is You: Transforming Self-Sabotage Into Self-Mastery by Brianna Wiest

Boundary Boss: The Essential Guide to Talk True, Be Seen, and (Finally) Live Free by Terri Cole

The Confidence Formula: May Cause: Lower Self-Doubt, Higher Self-Esteem, and Comfort In Your Own Skin by Patrick King

The Slight Edge by Jeff Olson

Choose Your Story, Change Your Life: Silence Your Inner Critic and Rewrite Your Life from the Inside Out by Kindra Hall

When You’re Ready, This Is How To Heal  by Brianna Wiest

Hunting Discomfort: How to Get Breakthrough Results in Life and Business No Matter What by Sterling Hawkins

The Four Pivots: Reimagining Justice, Reimagining Ourselves by Shawn Ginwright

The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron

A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose by Eckhart Tolle

The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle

Seductive Psychology:

48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene

Mastery by Robert Greene

The Art of Seduction by Robert Greene

How To Win Friends & Influence People  by Dale Carnegie

Power vs. Force by David Hawkins 

Femme Fatale/Dark Feminine/Feminist Reads:

Unbound: A Woman’s Guide To Power by Kasia Urbaniak 

Pussy: A Reclamation by Regena Thomashauer 

Why Men Love Bitches: From Doormat to Dreamgirl―A Woman's Guide to Holding Her Own in a Relationship by Sherry Argov 

A Single Revolution by Shani Silver 

This Is Your Brain On Birth Control by Sarah Hill 

Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler

Regretting Motherhood: A Study by Orna Donath 

Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Me by Caroline Criado Perez 

Women Who Run With The Wolves: ​​Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estes 

The Second Sex by Simone De Beauvoir 

The Ethics of Ambiguity by Simone De Beauvoir

A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf 

Women & Power: A Manifesto by Mary Beard 

Spinster by Kate Bolick 

What French Women Know: About Love, Sex, and Other Matters of the Heart and Mind by Debra Ollivier 

Living Forever Chic: Frenchwomen's Timeless Secrets for Everyday Elegance, Gracious Entertaining, and Enduring Allure by Tish Jett

Business/Finance/Entrepreneurship:

Never Split The Difference by Chris Voss 

Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion by Robert Cialdini 

The 2-Hour Cocktail Party by Nick Gray 

The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey 

Girl On Fire by Cara Alwill Leyba 

Women, Work & the Art of Savoir Faire: Business Sense & Sensibility by Mireille Guiliano 

Crucial Conversations Tools for Talking When Stakes Are High by Joseph Grenny 

Living On Purpose: Five Deliberate Choices to Realize Fulfillment by Amy Eliza Wong 

The Earned Life: Lose Regret, Choose Fulfillment by Marshall Goldsmith 

The High 5 Habit: Take Control of Your Life with One Simple Habit by Mel Robbins 

Building a Second Brain: A Proven Method to Organize Your Digital Life and Unlock Your Creative Potential by Tiago Forte

The Culture Code: The Secrets of Highly Successful Groups by Daniel Coyle 

Rich As F*ck: More Money Than You Know What to Do With by Amanda Frances 

Rich Bitch  by Nicole Lapin 

Like She Owns the Place by Cara Alwill Leyba 

So Good They Can’t Ignore You by Cal Newport 

The First Minute: How To Start Conversations That Get Results by Chris Fenning 

Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman 

Build: An Unorthodox Guide to Making Things Worth Making by Tony Fadell 

The Hard About Hard Things by Ben Horowitz 

The Psychology of Money: Timeless Lessons on Wealth, Greed, and Happiness by Morgan Housel

Productivity:

The Science of Self-Discipline:  The Willpower, Mental Toughness, and Self-Control to Resist Temptation and Achieve Your Goals by Peter Hollins 

Free Time: Lose The Busy Work, Love Your Business by Jenny Blake 

Vision to Reality: Stop Working, Start Living by Curtis Jenkins

Deep Work: Rules For Focused Success in A Distracted World by Cal Newport 

Finish What You Start by Peter Hollins

Mental Health:

Becoming The One by Sheleana Aiyana  

Attached by Amir Levine 

Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy by David D. Burns 

Whole Again by Jackson MacKenzie 

Take Your Lunch Break by Massoma Alam Chohan

Stop Overthinking by Nick Trenton 

Codependent No More by Melody Beattie

Designing the Mind: The Principles of Psychitecture by Ryan A. Bush 

Radical Acceptance: Awakening The Love That Heals Fear and Shame by Tara Brach 

Recovery from Gaslighting & Narcissistic Abuse, Codependency & Complex PTSD by Don Barlow 

Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents: How to Heal from Distant, Rejecting, or Self-Involved Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson 

Inner Child Recovery Work with Radical Self-Compassion by Don Barlow 

What Happened To You?: Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing by Bruce D. Perry & Oprah Winfrey 

Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown 

Physical Health:

The China Study by T. Collin Campbell 

The Blue Zones  by Dan Buettner 

How Not To Die by Dr. Michael Greger 

Befriending Your Body by Ann Saffi Biasetti 

Brain Over Binge by Kathryn Hansen 

The Power of Self-Discipline by Peter Hollins 

Fit at Any Age: It's Never Too Late by Susan Niebergall 

French Women Don't Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano 

The Archetype Diet by Dana James 

Fashion & Beauty: 

The Lucky Shopping Manual: Building and Improving Your Wardrobe Piece by Piece by Andrea Linett & Kim France 

Dress Like A Parisian by Alois Guinut

Parisian Chic by Ines de la Fressange & Sophie Gachet 

Why French Women Wear Vintage: And other secrets of sustainable style by Alois Guinut

Ageless Beauty the French Way: Secrets from Three Generations of French Beauty Editors by Clemence von Mueffling 

Skincare: The Ultimate No-Nonsense Guide by Caroline Hirons

#femme fatale #dark femininity #dark feminine energy #high value mindset #high value woman #hypergamous #feminine energy #female manipulator #the feminine urge #hypergamy #female empowerment #female power #it girl #that girl #girlblogging #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #motivational #booklover #atomic habits #art of seduction #the 48 laws of power #robert greene #french girl #level up #healthy habits #productivity #glow up #femmefatalevibe #book rec list #book rec

[ao3feed-kathony]

head on the pillow i could feel you sneaking in

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54218935 by Moomin_94 Part of him hated it, the way her bright smile lit her face and sent his heart thundering. He’d counted on this. He’d counted on having to stand in bars, outside rooms where he’d rather not think about what was happening inside. He’d counted on having to fudge some of his reports and stand outside changing rooms and fight through crowds of photographers clamouring to catch sight of her. But he hadn’t counted on her. The black silk was tight on her body and he tried not to flush at the skin he could see through the lace cutouts of her dress. “Did you have a good night?” “I… had as good a night as any.” “You’re a homebody aren’t you?” “Not at all.” “You’re very grumpy tonight.” “Just once, Princess, I wish you would go to a party where there was a back door.” “A back door? I suppose you’ll just have to settle for the front door. Poor Anthony.” He took the lead this time, throwing open the doors as the crowd outside clamoured, calling her name, cameras flashing. “Kate!” “Kate!” “Princess! This way!” OR The last thing Anthony counted on when he took this job, desperate to get out of the military was her. Kate Sharma. The Future Queen OR Nonsense Words: 2208, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Edwina Sheffield | Edwina Sharma, Mary Sheffield | Mary Sharma, Papa Sharma, A Gaggle of Bridgertons also Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Crown Princess Kate, Bodyguard Anthony Bridgerton, Mutual Pining, Angst, Secret Relationship, Major Character Injury, This is wild nonsense read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54218935

#kathony #kanthony #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #ao3feed #fanfic

[kanzakurawrites]

Descendants Character List Part Two: VK's

Once again, a lot of characters so I apologize in advance. This is everyone born before the first Descendants movie. Characters who appear in the movies are not mentioned here.

Anastasia Tremaine & The Baker:

Anthony (Canon) - First mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. Technically, his father is unknown. Protective over his sister, mother, and Dizzy. 16

Liana (OC) - She's prone to getting sick and has trouble breathing, Anastasia believes she has asthma. 14.

Captain Hook:

Harriet (Canon) - Mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. Took the mother role for her siblings and is perpetually tired. 19

Calista Jane "CJ" (Canon) - First seen in Wicked World. A wild card and a pirate at heart. 14.

Claude Frollo:

Cedric Frollo (OC) - Would risk his life for his sister. 19

Claudine Frollo (Canon) - Mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. 17

Clayton:

Warren (OC) - 19

Caleb (OC) - 19. No, he is not twins with Warren.

Wyatt (OC) - 18

Clay (Canon) - 17. First mentioned in the books. Does not get along with his brothers.

Dr. Facilier:

"Freddie" Francesca (Canon) - First seen in Wicked World. I gave her the full name Francesca. 16

Drizella Tremaine:

All OC's excluding Desiree, though it is canon that there are Evil Step-Granddaughters

Delaney - Has no idea who her father is, and is apart of Cedric's crew. 19

Danielle - 17

Devyn - She joined Uma's crew to escape her grandmother. 15.

Desiree - Canonically on Uma's pirate crew. I just gave her parents. Her father is Gaston. 14

Darcy - Was the twin to Diana. She passed away when she was 8 after an illness passed over the Isle.

Diana - Was the younger twin to Darcy, once she realized she was older than her sister. 13

Delilah - 13. Was born a few weeks before Darcy and Diana's first birthday.

Gaston:

Probably had many children running around the Isle. Girls who he hasn't claimed.

Gloria (OC) - Gaston only claimed her as she's one of the oldest children on the Isle. Laurette's daughter. Gloria helped to raise Gil. 19

Gaston Jr. (Canon) - First mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. Older twin to Gaston the Third. Mother is Claudette. 17

Gaston the Third (Canon) - First mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. Younger twin to Gaston Jr. Mother is Claudette. 17

Galina (OC) - Another daughter of an Isle woman, but this woman didn't try to get Gaston to claim Galina, and he never did. None of her siblings know of her existence. 15

Ginger (OC) - Her mother is an Isle woman who hoped that giving her a 'G' name would make Gaston claim her. This did not happen, but Giana and Gil found her and have tried to help her survive. 14

Giana (OC) - One of the few who Gaston has claimed, only so she can work in the house. Daughter of Laurette. 14.

Geneva (OC) - Claudette's daughter. She convinced Gaston to claim her. 7

Gabrielle (OC) - Daughter of Paulette. She was born deaf. Gloria took over caring for her after Paulette decided she no longer wanted to care for her. Gil is close with her. 4

Governor Ratcliffe:

James (OC) - 19

"Rick" Richard (Canon) - Mentioned in the books, I gave him the full name Richard. 18

Andrew (OC) - 13

Hades & Persephone:

"Hadie" Hayden (Canon) - Mentioned in Return to the Isle of the Lost. Technically, his canon mother has never been mentioned. 23

Morgana:

(All oc's)

Marina - 19. Her mother resents her, as Marina was her first-born yet looks nothing like her. Marina has two children herself, Saga (F, 3) and Zale (M, 1), and doesn't live with her mother. Instead, she, and Morten moved to the pirate village, with Mar eventually joining them.

Morten - 18. Also doesn't have a good relationship with his mother, but has a stronger call to the sea than he lets on. Has a child, Fisher (M, 1 month).

Morgan - 17. Looks the most like Morgana, all the way to having a greenish hue to her skin and white hair with pale pink. But her mother has put unrealistic pressure on her, and she wants to be free.

Mar - 16. Has a little girl named Neri (9 months)

Maxwell - 14

Marie - 13. Her mother tends to pass the younger four off to her to take care of.

Marnie - 12. She and Marie are nine months apart, and she helps Marie with the younger kids.

Murray - 11

Marko - 11

Marley - 9

Monika - 7

Makael - 4

Muireann - 3

Murchadh - 1

Meltem - 2 months

Mother Gothel:

Ginny Gothel (Canon) - Mentioned in the Isle of the Lost books. Friends with Diego de Vil. Might not actually be Mother Gothel's child. 15

Queen & King of Hearts:

Jacks (OC) - 18.

Scarlett (OC) - I suggest you run. 16

Spade (OC) - 14

Smee:

Sammy Smee (Canon) - Mentioned in the books. 18

The Stabbingtons:

Name: Sideburns and Patchy. All kids are OC's

Sean - Son of Sideburns. 18

Sadie - Daughter of Patchy. 18

Saul - Son of Patchy. 17

Sarah - Daughter of Sideburns. 17

Simon - Son of Sideburns. 15.

Yzma:

Zevon (Canon) - Seen in Wicked World. 17

Yzla (Canon) - Mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. 15.

Others:

Ophelia (OC) - The daughter of Monseuior D'Arque. 17

"Shy" Shyrailym - The daughter of Shan Yu. 17

Jonas (Canon) - One of the pirates in Uma's crew. 17

Big Murph (Canon) - Son of a pirate on Captain Hook's crew. 16

Hendrik (OC) - The son of the hunter from Snow White. 16

Diego de Vil (Canon) - First mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. Cruella's nephew. Friends with Ginny Gothel. 16.

"Hermie" Hermione Bing (Canon) - Mentioned in the books, I gave her the full name Hermione. Her dream is to escape her father's circus. 16.

Mad Maddy (Canon) - First mentioned in Return to the Isle of the Lost. Madam Mim's granddaughter. 16.

Bonny (Canon) - A pirate in Uma's crew. 15

Gonzo (Canon) - A pirate in Uma's crew. 15

Jade (Canon) - Mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. Daughter of Nasira, and is Jafar's niece. 15

Le Fou Deux (Canon) - Son of Le Fou and mentioned in the books. 15.

Eddie (Canon) - Son of Edgar, mentioned in the books. 14

Raina (OC) - Daughter of Rasputin. She does not have magic like her father, and is friends with Claudine. 14.

Reza (Canon) - First mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. He's the son of the former royal astronomer of Agrabah and Carlos' rival. 13

"Harry" Harold (Canon) - Son of Horace, one of Carlos' minions. First mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. 13

"Jase" Jason (Canon) - Son of Jasper, one of Carlos' minions. First mentioned in The Isle of the Lost. 13

Mable (OC) - One of Mad Maddy's sisters. 13

Arya (OC) - Daughter of the Hunter from Snow White, and Hendrik's little sister. 11

Hopefully this wasn't too chaotic, but this is also definitely not everyone on the Isle. If you have questions about any of the kids, feel free to ask! And if you have a suggestion for a villain with kids, I'd love to hear it.

#my ocs #ocs #disney descendants #descendants

[sanjoongie]

Dr. Frankenstein and Your Monster~ 2

♡Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader (f) x Park Seonghwa ♡Genre: smut with no plot ♡Au: Novel(frankenstein by mary shelley) inspired au, established relationship au ♡Word Count: 2,955 ♡Warnings: dom!yunho, sub!hwa, sub!reader, water/bath sex, penetrative sex without barrier, oral receiving (m), nipple play, mxm, foreplay for hwa and reader a la yunho, voyeurism, bukake, double penetration, deep throating, f/m/m orgasm ♡Rated: 18+ MDNI ♡Part One~ ♡Dedication~ @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland the unholy trinity beta team. one of you loves these aries and the other one is an aries and i can never decide if i'm blessed or cursed by this ><

Bathtime~

It was during times like these where you really understood why certain people in Yunho’s community, and sometimes the town, labeled Yunho as an ‘evil genius’. As his wife, you were certainly aware of his sadistic tendencies, that coupled with his brilliant mind, made a perfect equation for this label. However, no one would truly understand how deep this ran in Yunho, unless they were a fly on the wall of your bathroom, of course.

The large, clawed-foot tub was built to hold you and Yunho, so of course, it was easy for you and Seonghwa to bathe in it. With the heated tiling, the room was above room temperature. Yunho turns the faucets so that steaming water could begin to fill the bath. He drops in some choice bath oils, because he knew you liked it so, and then promptly begins to loosen his tie and remove certain items of clothing.

“Seonghwa, honey, let me help you.” You motioned for your favorite monster to come to you when he struggles with removing the harness over his shirt. How he managed to get it on in the first place is a mystery to you.

He patiently stands in front of you, eyes shining with adoration as you undo the clasps and bend so that you can lift it over his head. Next is taking your time and unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it out from his waistband. You are loath to remove it completely, you do love how it looks against his skin. Seonghwa’s head is ducked as your eyes take in his revealed skin.

“Mistress,” He murmurs, closing his eyes and getting embarrassed.

You hush him, “Let me enjoy you, Seonghwa.”

Small splashing noises can be heard from behind you, and you know that Yunho is doing his best to wash up in a small basin so that he can orchestrate the bathtime that he had ordered. So you continue to help Seonghwa out of his clothes. You make small noises at the sight of Seonghwa’s cock covered in his blue cum. It’s still a glorious sight, even though his cock has softened.

“Poor baby,” You coo, well aware that Seonghwa despises being dirty, regardless of the reason for his creation.

“Dirty,” Seonghwa whines, playing into your caretaker role.

“I’ll take care of you, Hwa, don’t worry.” You beam up at him and his pout lessens, but only slightly.

“Let me take care of you too,” Seonghwa insists.

You turn around so that he can begin on the many buttons down the back of your dress. He stumbles for a while, the small buttons causing him trouble. When he starts to whine and huff, Yunho moves around behind you to help Seonghwa. “Slow, Seonghwa,” Yunho instructs him, “You have to take your time.”

“But!” Seonghwa protests.

You don’t know what is exchanged between your husband or your fuck toy, but suddenly you hear a rip and you keen at the lose of another, yes another, good dress. “Yunho! I just had that one made.”

“We’ll go to the dressmakers this week. I’m home now, so it's not a problem to escort you.” And just like that Yunho dismisses your issues. 

Yunho pulls down the dress, so that your arms pull out of the sleeves and then Seonghwa holds your hand as you daintily step out of the dress pooled at your feet. You are left in a simple sheath but it does nothing to hide how pert your nipples are--and the air is not cool enough to blame.

Yunho’s hands cup your breasts and his fingers begin to play with your nipples. “Excited for bath time?” He murmurs in your ear.

“You know it’s my favorite,” You can’t help but whine again.

Seonghwa eyes up the steam coming from the bath. “It’s going to be too hot!”

“You’ll be fine, Seonghwa,” Yunho reassures his creation, “Besides, half of it will slosh out while you’re fucking my wife.”

“Yun!” Your back bows as Yunho pinches your nipples and then yanks your sheathe down until it is also a pool of material at your feet. 

“In the tub, the both of you,” Yunho orders.

“Come on, Hwa,” You cajole the monster. 

Seonghwa doesn’t move from his spot but you slip into the bath nonetheless. You groan as the hot water hits your skin. “Oh god, this is exactly what I needed.”

“Because of your muscles or because of your dirty cunt,” Yunho teases again.

“Both,” You say, unable to keep the pout from your voice.

Seonghwa has wrapped his arms around his body stubbornly now. Sometimes he can’t be budged when he makes up his mind. 

Yunho’s lips purse in disapproval. “Seonghwa. In the bath. Now.”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “No.”

Yunho storms over to his creation and grips Seonghwa’s jaw harshly. “Did you just disobey a direct order from your master?”

Seonghwa whimpers. “But--”

Yunho may sound bored but his tone is a direct indication of how pissed off he is at this moment. “If you want, I can fuck her again. Show you how your technique could improve. And tomorrow morning in bed and tomorrow afternoon at the dressmakers and tomorrow evening on the balcony. I can fuck her for every time slot that you should be. And you won’t get to touch her for the week. I’m fine with that, Seonghwa, but are you?” 

You and Seonghwa shiver at the implications of Yunho’s sentence. Yes, once Yunho is home, he is your primary and Seonghwa is not necessarily needed but it was not of your typical practice to simply discard Seonghwa like an unwanted toy. Seonghwa was needy, certainly, and Yunho enjoyed playing with his boundaries, yes, but it was always a push and pull. Without the pull, Seonghwa might actually go crazy with need.

Seonghwa’s eyes are downcast now, knowing he will not win with Yunho’s stern temperament. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Then you get in the damn tub,” Yunho said harshly one more time and then let go of Seonghwa with a wretch.

After discarding his pants, Seonghwa hisses all the while he gets into the tub. He whines about it being too hot and you can't help but giggle at what a big baby he is being. Once he was sitting down, you reach for a washcloth but Yunho put his hand over you. “That’s my privilege, darling,” He corrects you.

Yunho lathers up the cloth with soap and then plunges his hand under the water. He rubs your cunt gently and you open your legs wider for him. His fingers play through the soft material of the cloth, making sure to wipe all his cum from you--that he could reach, anyways. Who knows how much decided to remain deep inside of you. You close your eyes, enjoying the sensation of Yunho playing with your cunt. It is too soon when he takes it away and you whimper at the loss.

“I have to clean Seonghwa too,” Yunho reassures you.

That’s when your eyes fly open. Yunho is acting differently again. Typically, he did not have this kind of interaction with Seonghwa, but you were suddenly desperate to see what else he had planned, after kissing Seonghwa with such fervor previously. 

You watch as Yunho dutifully lathers up the cloth again. Seonghwa watches with trusting eyes as Yunho put a heavy hand on one of Seonghwa’s already-spread thighs and wraps his hand, and the cloth, around Seonghwa’s dick. Seonghwa’s spine bows at the feeling, hissing and moaning at Yunho’s ‘cleaning’. Even after it is clear that all of Seonghwa’s cum was gone, Yunho continues to pump his creation’s dick, making it grow larger and larger, until Seonghwa is surely at full mast. You almost think Yunho is going to make Seonghwa come again, when he pulls his hand off of Seonghwa. Yunho dips the cloth into the water and wrings the cloth of all the water from it.

Seonghwa is fully leaning against the bathtub, panting with need, eyes hooded and clearly ready for the bathtime fuck that Yunho has decided the both of you need. All you want is to lean over and push his hair from his eyes, but you know better than to start something without Yunho’s permission.

"Stay where you are, sweetheart," yunho murmurs, "I want to see Seonghwa fuck you."

You swallow loudly but keep your legs open as Seonghwa switches positions carefully. He places a hand on the lip of the tub, on each side of your head, and carefully lies between your legs. His straining cock nudges your outer lips and you buck against the feeling. You are sensitive from Yunho playing with you. Although you are still quite full from Yunho being inside of you, there was something about having Yunho watch you with his calculating eyes while Hwa fucks you that really did create butterflies in your stomach.

This time you do reach up to card through Seonghwa’s hair. It was damp and wet at the ends. Seonghwa sucks in his bottom lip as you did such a gentle gesture. "Please," he whines.

"Think you can handle him, Sweetheart?" Yunho says lowly into your ear. He dots kisses along your shoulder and his hands come down to knead your muscles there. "Let me watch him enter slowly, inch by inch."

You whimper at Yunho’s words. "Hwa. Slowly," You whisper.

Seonghwa angles his hips and then he's sinking into you with small cries pulling from his throat. "So good, so good, so good."

"Isn't she so inviting, Toy?" Yunho spoke to Seonghwa with an even tone. He almost purrs as his fingertips swirl patterns with the water drops on your skin. "She feels so wet and tight and warm."

"Don't," Seonghwa moans, eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

You arch your back and let out a string of moans as Seonghwa pushes into you until he is fully sheathed inside. His forehead is touching yours now, lips sending tiny puffs of warm air against your lips. "Seonghwa!" You couldn't help but moan his name too.

"Good?" is all that Seonghwa can manage through his fucked-out state.

"Move!" You groan, bucking your hips and allowing for some movement inside of you.

Seonghwa’s hips begin to move of their own volition, a tiny snap at the end of his thrusts, ensuring that he is hitting that spongy part inside of you that makes your breath catch in your throat. "Fuck master's wife good, fuck master's wife good," He starts to chant.

You groan even louder when Yunho slants his lips over yours and his hands descend over your shoulders so that his hand could grip your boob in an upside down motion, pointer fingers poised to play with your nipples. Yunho eats up all your noises, tongue playing with yours.

The sloshing of the water, paired with the orchestra of noises of pleasure coming from you and Seonghwa, are all that can be heard for a while and you let yourself float amongst that atmosphere. Until Seonghwa begins to whine.

"I can't--I need--!" A sense of urgency sweeps across his face.

Yunho breaks your kiss, a long string of saliva pulling between your lips before ultimately breaking when Yunho's tongue runs along his upper lip. "Not yet," he commands.

Seonghwa lets out a loud noise of frustration but slows his thrusts so the water only gently laps at the sides of the tub. "Yunho, why?" You cry out at the loss of your impending orgasm as well.

"Because, Sweetheart, I want to come all over that sweet face of yours," Yunho admits, grinning widely.

"Yunho," You groan when you realize you're about to be double stuffed. Your hand claws at the space between his hip bone and his cock. 

"You've got a cock deep inside of you and you still need mine?" Yunho teases once again, "Either that means Seonghwa isn't truly doing his job good enough, or, you are just that cock hungry."

Seonghwa’s thrusts jerk heavily against your body and your body moves upwards with the sudden jerk. "I'm doing good!" He insists, eyes shaky with worry.

"I'm cock hungry, so fucking cock hungry," You babble as your hand makes way to Yunho's cock imprint through his pants. It's all he's got remaining of his clothes. "That's why you made Seonghwa, right? Because I needed cock so much while you were gone?" 

Yunho knows you are once again trying to put yourself between him and Seonghwa but he lets you win the game this time. He is amazed that you are still desperate for him even when you had Seonghwa taking care of you the entire time. His hand cups one side of your face. "Show me how much you need me," He says.

Eagerly, you open his pants so that you can guide him to your lips. You wrap your hand around his base and hollow your cheeks, and take as much of him as you can before meeting your fingers on his length. Yunho's hand sinks into your hair to control your head. He thrusts lazily into your mouth, hitting the soft inside of your cheek as your head lies back against the tub and eventually let his cock go. 

"That's it, Sweetheart," Yunho says with hooded eyes, "Take both our cocks, hmm? You like being stuffed by both of us, don't you?"

"Can I come now?" Seonghwa whines.

"No, Toy," Yunho replies back casually, "You cannot. Make her moan again, show me how you fuck her."

"But--!" Seonghwa frowns heavily, "I can't come!"

Yunho lifts an eyebrow at Seonghwa. "Can't you fuck and not come?"

"I'm too close!" Seonghwa protests.

You are in the deep headspace of simply being a hole for the two men in your life. Subconsciously, you know the two of them are arguing but truly all you can focus on is the way the head of Yunho's cock hits the inside of your cheek and Seonghwa's slow but steady thrusting is driving you crazy.

"If you come before me, I will tie you spread eagle to our bedposts and you will have to endure being below my wife while I fuck her. I know how to stem the flow of your cum so you can do nothing but continuously feel stimulation but no release." The threat comes out in a soft tone that, if you weren't listening to the words, would have seemed like Yunho is sweet-talking Seonghwa instead of threatening him.

Seonghwa is quiet, for a bit, and it seems like perhaps Yunho has tamed his creation. But Seonghwa simply took a moment longer than necessary to process what he is being threatened with. "...can we?"

Yunho lets out a short bark of laughter as you groan at the fact that what Yunho had suggested wasn't a threat to Seonghwa but a good time, in his eyes. "I made you perfectly for us, didn't I?"

Us?

The grip on your hair tightens as Yunho quickly changes gears. Whether he is simply enjoying the moment, or he is looking to make Seonghwa's endeavor not so torturous, that is up for debate, but Yunho is now fucking your throat. You have to focus on timing your breathing with his thrusts. Seonghwa doesn't make it easy. His thrusts begin to become sloppy and his heavy breathing increases. 

"Gonna fill you up," He whines, eyes closed tightly, "Gonna make you come."

Your other free hand searches out Seonghwa's nipple and begins to pull on it. Seonghwa whines loudly, "Don't! Gonna get me in trouble!"

Yunho suddenly pulls out of your mouth so suddenly that you have a moment to gasp for air loudly and then his seed spurts all over your face. Belatedly, you push out your tongue, looking to catch some there. When Yunho decides your face is painted well enough with his cum, he rests the head of his cock against your tongue and lets his seed pool there. 

"That's it, Sweetheart, take it all for me," Yunho coaches you.

"Hwa," You whimper, feeling your climax come to a head once again, "Just like that, don't stop, you're such a good toy, such a good b--" Your climax rips through you, lighting up all your nerve endings with pleasure.

Seonghwa can't hold it back any longer once your inner walls clamp down on him again and again. He came with a high pitched whine that was so drawn out that it almost sounded downright painful. "So good so good so good," He pants as he thrusts into you until he has no more to give you.

You are feeling gently used and enjoying the fact that Yunho had gotten off to Seonghwa fucking you. “Yunnie?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” Yunho crouches down by the tub to give you a gentle kiss at your temple.

“You’re going to have to walk me through this newfound desire for my toy,” You say lazily.

“Your toy, huh?” Yunho can't help but smile, “You do remember I’m his master.”

"But--!" Your protests were cut off with a deep kiss that mimicked the one he gave Hwa; like he was searching for his own cum in your mouth and it makes you wet all over again.

"If you make love, can I watch?" Seonghwa asks, slightly interrupting the moment.

Yunho releases your lips, if only to laugh at Seonghwa, but he continues to stare at you. "Is it okay for our toy to watch us, Sweetheart?"

You sigh happily, getting the message. Yunho didn't have to explain, Seonghwa had always been the both of yours, and it just felt right. "Yes, please."

"Well," Yunho can't help but grin boyishly, "Guess I'll be showing you how to fuck my wife after all."

Tag list~ @hijirikaww @rdiamond2727 @flowerboykun @toxicccred @starillusion13 @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @a-soft-hornytiny

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #thekpopuniverse #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #park seonghwa smut #jeong yunho smut #park seonghwa scenarios #jeong yunho scenarios #atz smut #yunho smut #seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #topaz's work #ღatz #happy birthday to one of the aries i wanna fight #shut up i did not mean to leave space for another part too fml

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Ain't that something part 2

Part 1, part 3

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x fem reader, Oliva!Priscilla x reader. A!Elvis x O!Priscilla.

Requested: kinda

A/n: I have a few more things I want to add to this fanfic, so I'm gonna do a part 3, I hope you enjoy it. I tried lol. Also 'Ma' is Lisa's name for you

Warning: M/f/f, polyamorous relationship, breeding kink, degrading and praise kink, unplanned pregnancy, Fluff, oral sex (Fem receiving) spanking, hair pulling, creampie, cum eating, Elvis is free, unprotected sex, age gap(the reader is 19, Elvis is 32, and Priscilla is 22), Augst. Sex scene ahead, skip it if it makes you uncomfortable.

"Yes," Priscilla moans, back against the backboard of the black and gold-themed king-size bed, legs spread as you drag your tongue between her folds,finger deep in her pussy and twisting your waist as you fingering her.

Elvis's hips smacked into your already bruised ass as he traced kisses along your spine, your chest against the mattress, and your ass in the air. "G-good?" Priscilla asked, a moan slipping out as you swirled your tongue around her clit.

"Fuckin' wonderful, such a slut, letting me use her" Elvis grunted, cock drilling in you faster as he slaps your ass, making you yelp and moan into Priscilla's cunt. Her fingers tagging at your hair, gently, not wanting to hurt you.

"Want her pregnant, fill her with cum." Elvis groaned, pussy drunk. Priscilla watches her husband lose himself in the pleasure of you, his gaze on where you and he are connected before he looks at her.

"Yea?" Priscilla whined out, as a harsh suck comes to her clit.

Elvis takes his hands off your hips, put them by where your chest is on the bed and straightens his legs like a pushup position, and uses the strength in said legs to pound downwards into your pussy, heavy balls smack hard on your clit, the pain brings a pleasure you've come love. You fight to keep your ass in the air as he does this, uncontrollable moans and squeals leave your mouth, and into Priscilla's pussy, you thrust your finger into her faster hitting her G-spot and tongue lapping at her folds.

"Kiss me," Elvis pants out to Priscilla, close to busting inside of you but he won't cum, not until you and Cilla do. She leans closer to Elvis and pulls him into a kiss full of tongue, her hips bucking against your tongue, and Elvis pounding not letting up once. You rip your finger from her, leaving her empty but not for long, you stick your tongue as far as you can reach and swirls it around her walls, nose rubbing against her clit. Finally, she comes, covering your tongue and chin.

"Fuck!" Priscilla gasped after she comes down from her high and with a sharp roll of Elvis's hips, the knot inside you snaps, your cum coats his cock, the overwhelming feeling of your pussy clamping down on him finally pushes him over the break of pure pleasure ans his warm cum fills you so much a ring of yours and his cum wraps around his cock.

"Such a good girl, our pretty girl" Elvis said after he caught his breath, slowly pulling out causing a bit of his seed to drip out of your beat up pussy.

Priscilla hums in agreement as she strokes your hair, a loving smile on her face as she watches you gather your strength after such a harsh pounding. "I need a shower," You say as you hop off the bed to shower first, almost falling before getting your footing, chuckles and giggles sound from behind you as you enter the bathroom and close the door.

"Ya really like her?" Elvis questioned Priscilla, getting off the bed and walking to get a change of sheet from the dresser "I do." She answered as she starts to take off the bed blankets, pillows, and sheets.

It's been a whole month since she caught you both and well, she liked what she saw, you were beautiful and had a beautiful personality, sure you could be a smart ass and sassy but you were also sweet, kind, and loving, it was impossible not to love or like you, even Lisa Marie took to you as soon as she met you, and she was starting to see you as a second mother.

"I want ask her to move in" Elvis suddenly said helping to change the sheets, bringing Priscilla out of her thoughts. A part of her loved the idea but want would you think? Is it too soon? But then again Elvis has been dating you for 4 months now. " I don't know honey," she tailed off, she didn't want to scare you off, she was starting to like-love you.

And she knew Elvis already loved you, and they couldn't lose you. "Just really think about it ok? " She continued, Elvis hummed and nodded his head. Finally, they finished making the bed, and just in time you come out with a towel around you, and a smile still on your face. "Nice shower little darlin'?" Elvis asked, as you walk to him, you just nod before bringing him in a sweet but short kiss.

"Can I use one of your PJs?" You ask sweetly, "Sure baby." Elvis gives your ass one last hard smack for the night, a yelp makes it past your lips and you stop to look at him with a pouty look on your face before strolling into the walk-in closet to seek your favorite of his PJs.

.......

Priscilla steps out of the large bathroom, her body calling to her to sleep. She closes the door and turns to see you and Elvis fast asleep under the covers.

she must of taking too long after her shower, being the last to take one. The sight truly warms her heart. Elvis is on his back, you're snuggled into his right side, head on his chest and his arm is around you. She puts on a nightie to join you two. She moves under the cover, and into Elvis's left.

'Please let it stay like this forever,'. Priscilla thinks to herself as sleep overcomes her.

.......

Your eyes shot open as a wave of nausea flows over you, and you scurry out of bed trying you're best to be quiet. You reach the toilet just in time. You throw up the dinner you had the night before eventually, you had empty anything in your stomach you shakily got up to use your toothbrush, why not have one at Graceland because you were here most of the time.

This has been happening every morning without fail, you had a theory as to why this is happening, and today you have to make sure about it, exiting the restroom and getting a pen and paper from the nightstand drawer 'My loves, I'm sorry to have left without saying goodbye but something happened. family emergency. I'll see you two soon. Love your pretty girl, (y/n).

You laid down the pen on the paper before finding your clothes, putting them on, and putting Elvis Pj you used in the laundry basket before making your way down the stairs, and out the door. Your car keys were in hand as you walked to the car Elvis had brought for you, the morning light shines bright on your pretty (f/c) Cadillac. Getting in you start to drive to your apartment but not before stopping at a drugstore to grab a few things.

You finally made it to your destination. You parked your ride in the resigned parking lot, locking the car as you get out and walked up the walkway to your apartment door. Thoughts race inside your head while you step into your cheap home and immediately head to the small restroom. The bag from the drugstore In hand.

Turning on the light, You take a deep breath "You can do it." you whispered to yourself as you take the pregnancy tests, 4 tests to be exact out of the said bag. You do your business and wait for the results.

You fidget with the hem of your flowy dress skirt as you sit on your couch and wait for the timer you use to cook and bake to go off for the 5 minutes like the directions on a box said. The timer went off giving you a mini heart attack you put a hand to your heart before, rushing to turn off the timer and check the tests.

You paused at the door frame before stepping into the bathroom and it was like time stopped as you looked down at the tests that changed your life forever. All of them were "Positive" you stammered into the unbearable silence and the thoughts you tried so hard to push at the back of your mind, hits you like a train.

'What I'm going to do?'

'I'm only 19, yes I've wanted to be a mother but not this young, and not only that I'm pregnant with a married man'

'What would Priscilla think? What about Elvis? Will he hate me when he finds out?' Will she?'

You didn't even realize you were crying until you watch a teardrop hit the surface of the sink. "It will be okay, just take a week and think about what to do. It's gonna be fine" You comfort yourself as you wipe the tears off. You throw away the tests into the small trash can beside the toilet, turn the lights off, and went to get ready for work.

.......

You should have known Elvis would show up at your apartment complex, one thing you loved about him is when it came to you he never left a problem unfixed, rather it was something bothering you or it was about your relationship. He would fix it with a sweet gesture of love and affection or just plain-out listen to you. So you shouldn't be surprised that it wasn't even day four of pretending Elvis and Priscilla didn't exist, before he's here.

You let out a big sigh as you opened the door knowing full well that if Elvis wanted something he'd get it. Almost as immediately as you open and before you gesture to come in, he was already walking passed you. "Darlin'" Elvis paused for a second to gather his thoughts before continuing "Why are ya ignoring me? Was it something I did? Cilla's worried ya know. Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it." Elvis blurts out. It was now or never.

"I'm pregnant Elvis. You're going to be a father, again." You explained eyes closed. you didn't want to see the hatred and disappointment on the man you loved's face. A few seconds have gone by but it felt like hours when you felt his hands on your waist before you were lifted off the ground and into the air. Your eyes shot open and your hands grip Elvis's shoulders as he twirls you two around in circles. A Joyce laugh leaves him and his eyes, oh his beautiful blue eyes shined brighter than the clearest of skies on a sunny day.

"Y-you're not mad" You stutter as he puts you down and into a warm, loving embrace. "Why would I be mad? Don't ya remember why I put that pretty ring on your finger?" Elvis pulls back to look at you and gestures to your hand that has the heart-shaped ring on it. "I promised to love ya for the rest of my life, I meant it, pretty girl," he said honestly. "I love you, Elvis." You smiled softly before it dropped. "I'm sorry I pretended that you and Cilla didn't exist, I was, just so scared and nervous." You apologized looking at the floor of the living room.

"Oh. Darlin' that baby will be so loved, Lisa Marie has been asking for a little sibling from her 'Ma'. Priscilla will love it as her own. Move in with me, Cilla, and little Lisa. Where you belong." Elvis asked his hands gently making you look at him and like that all your worries, doubts, and insecurities are washed away. You nodded and that gorgeous grin appears on his face.

'It's gonna be ok'

#elvis imagine #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #austin butler smut #elvis and priscilla

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Forgotten &amp; Found

by Risen_Phoenix Jason is in the midst of trying to make an identity for himself, while trying to face his past to move on. Making decisions on who he wants in his life vs. who he needs going forwards. They said the first step in doing that is to get a therapist, or talk to someone. That should be incredibly easy! Easy if Jason wouldn't prefer handing himself over to the Joker first.... Not that his, maybe new mom, would let him. Words: 2848, Chapters: 1/8, Language: English Series: Part 2 of The Rise of Retribution Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Avengers (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Peter Parker, Mary Jane Watson, Bruce Banner, Ned Leeds, Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Jane Foster (Marvel), Jean Grey Relationships: Avengers Team Members (Marvel) & Jason Todd, Avengers Team Members (Marvel) & Justice League (DCU), Dog | Jason Todd's Dog & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Gotham City, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Jason Todd, Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Tragedy, Protective Avengers, Jealous Batfamily (DCU), Protective Alfred Pennyworth, Protective Dick Grayson, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, It's Hard and Nobody Understands, Jason Todd is Not Okay, BAMF Alfred Pennyworth, BAMF Natasha Romanov (Marvel), BAMF Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd-centric, Natasha Romanov-centric (Marvel), Tim Drake is Robin, Damian Wayne is Not Robin, Jason Todd and Damian Wayne Meet in the League of Assassins, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Mediocre Parent Bruce Wayne via https://ift.tt/6hHDnCB

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

[whatsnewalycat]

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 10: Take Me to Church

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Content Tags / CW: swearing, smoking, pining, mental health spiral, cheating/infidelity, lying, catholic church, oral sex (m receiving), church sex, bathroom sex, dirty talk, making shit up about Javi's origin story, parent death, car accident death, establishing relationship expectations

Chapter Summary: Our heroes have a fun time at church.

Notes: Chapter title from "Take Me to Church" by Hozier. We've officially made it into the second act of this story- yay! I'm going to take the series summary off of these posts going forward, but if you'd like a series summary, click first chapter. Comments, questions, concerns? Let me know :) I like receiving feedback. OK, THAT'S ALL, THANK YOU FOR READING!

[ First Chapter ] [ Previous Chapter ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ AO3 ]

St. Mary’s Church, Laredo, TX

June 21, 1998

The pew creaks beneath your weight as you shift in your seat between Dan and Cheryl. As far as Baker family outings, going to church is both your least favorite and the most frequent. They’re Catholic, and mass lasts almost an hour and a half most Sundays. This gives you ample time to daydream about anything, as long as you stand, sing, and sit when everyone else does. Overall, you’re there because it makes Dan and his family happy, and (ever the people pleaser) you want to stay on everyone’s good side.

It’s almost always incredibly boring (hence the daydreaming). Today though… you and Javier are stealing glances at each other. Each small glimpse makes your heart skip and cheeks blush. A fluttering feeling creeps across your chest, then liquefies into heat that pools in your center.

You just saw him yesterday afternoon up at the Pour House, but you were there with Dan and his friend, Greg. When Javi entered the bar, he came over to say hello to everyone, then sat down next to you and chatted with you while Dan talked with Greg. Dan didn’t pay the interaction much mind, but on the way home he asked what you two had discussed, to which you answered vaguely, “We were just catching up. You know, wedding planning, how the ranch is going, movies, all that.”

“He hasn’t been trying anything with you, right?”

“Javi? No,” you grimaced, “He’s never been inappropriate with me. We’re just friends.”

“Better not,” he said sternly.

Never mind the fact that his hand was resting on my bare leg the whole time, fingers drawing sweet nothings onto my skin.

You’re in this now. Actively lying, sneaking, cheating.

“Doesn’t he have a thing with Kim, anyway?” you asked, looking out the window. You didn’t think that was still happening, but the question (which you only asked to cause misdirection) churned your stomach with anxiety. Even if they were still seeing each other, it’s not like you’ve established exclusivity with Javi. You’ve barely established a romantic relationship with him.

“Yeah, but you never know with guys like that,” Dan squinted over at you, curling his lip.

The word yeah dug into your skin like a sliver.

What does he mean yeah? Is there something I don’t know? Not that I'm the boss of Javier or anything. He’s free to do what he wants. I'm cool with whatever. I'm cool as a cucumber.

You shrugged, “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

So why do I feel like this is my circus and my goddamn monkey?

You’re jostled out of your thoughts as you realize the people in the row in front of you are rising to go get communion. Once they file out and start towards the sanctuary, everyone in your row rises. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

When you flush the toilet, you hear the heavy bathroom door open and close as someone enters, but doesn’t go into the other stall. You pull up your underwear and straighten your turquoise dress before emerging, the click clack of your heels echoing around the room. You jump when you look up and see Javi is leaning up against the tile wall, looking up at you, arms crossed expectantly.

“What are you doing?” you ask in a hushed tone, whipping your head around to make sure there’s no one else in here.

He pushes himself off the wall and advances towards you- eyebrows drawn together, lips parted, gaze hot. He’s on you at once, hands cupping your face, guiding you back into the stall, locking the door behind him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he breathes onto your mouth. A grin spreads across your face and heartbeats like a bass drum start thumping in your chest. You run your fingernails through his hair, gazing up into those mischievous dark brown eyes. He keeps eye contact with you, running his hands up and down your waist affectionately. His whispers continue, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, I… I need to touch you, I couldn’t stop myself from following you.”

“You’re such a trouble maker,” you tease, then raise yourself up onto the balls of your feet and brush your lips against his, back and forth. He inhales sharply and mimics your motions. The feather light touch sends shivers up your spine. His mouth curls into a smile and you can’t resist any longer. When your lips meet his, he savors the feeling for just a moment before running his tongue along yours. A small gasp escapes you when he bites your bottom lip, then starts trailing kisses down to your neck. You tilt your head back and thrust your hips into his. He runs his tongue in circles down your throat. Your knees go weak and you involuntarily let out a moan.

“I th-thought public bathrooms were o-off limits?” you pant, untucking and unbuttoning his dress shirt until you can reach up and splay your fingers across the tender warm skin of his abdomen. A shudder racks his body, then he presses his lips back to yours.

“I can’t wait any longer. Look at you- fuck ,” he pushes you up against the wall and starts pawing at your dress, trying to get his hands underneath without moving his lips from yours. You shake your head at him coyly, then swap positions with him so he’s the one against the wall. Your hands travel down to his belt buckle, undoing it with a deafening jingle that ricochets off the bathroom walls.

“Must be a special day if you’re wearing underwear,” you tease, tugging at the tight material of his boxer briefs until they’re down to his ankles. Pointing a finger at his mouth, you instruct him to suck. He grabs your wrist as he gladly accepts the digit into his mouth, enthusiastically rolling his tongue around it.

All the air whooshes from his lungs as you crouch down to look at him. His cock is engorged and thick; he is deliciously well-endowed. You look up into his wild eyes as you place your wet finger tip onto the thick bead of pre-cum hanging off of his cock, then drag it down his length. He looks down at you, pleading, desperate for more stimulation.

Javier lets out a small cry when you follow the same path with your tongue, then back up again. You slide the head into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it, then seal your lips around his girth, bobbing back and forth, taking a bit more of him each time. He holds himself back from interfering with your process, watching you graduate his cock to a deeper level with each thrust. Hushed grunts and whines fall from his mouth, seeming so much louder than they actually are as they reverberate off the empty walls.

When the head hits your gag reflex, it gets triggered, and you let out a choking noise. You take it out and catch your breath, stroking him attentively as you try to relax your throat. The sound of you jerking him off is obscenely loud. He groans, “That’s so good baby, h-holy shit yes , you’re such a good girl.”

Sinking down from your crouch onto your knees, you adjust so you can get a better view of him coming undone. Your lips wrap around his cock and you start working faster, relishing the feeling of him rubbing against your lips, your tongue, the roof of your mouth, dipping into your throat when you can handle it. You bring a hand to his balls and cup them, rubbing your thumb across the sensitive sack gently. He shudders under your touch and it only makes you more ravenous.

“Look at me,” he rasps, and your gaze shoots up to him as he chokes out, “That’s perfect, baby. Can you take more?”

Your eyes water when you try, but you’re able to relax enough to start taking him deeper. He nods in approval and you continue working enthusiastically, finding a steady rhythm that makes his eyes flutter. His hands grab onto your hair and you moan, taking him in as deep as you can. “H-holy shit. Can- can I fuck your face?”

You pull off of him, saliva stringing from his cock to your face as you gasp for air, “Fuck- fuck yes, you can do anything to me.”

You take him into your mouth again and look up at him. His lips are puckered, brow furrowed, sweating through his nice dress shirt. He puts a hand on either side of your head and slowly thrusts forward, testing the waters. You relax your throat and jaw enough that on his next thrust, his cock slides deeper into throat. He starts to go faster, at which point you’re sure you could fucking drown someone in your panties with how wet you are. He’s using your mouth as his fuck toy and it’s everything you could ask for in this moment. He whispers sweet affirmations, telling you how good you’re taking him, how fucking sexy you are, how crazy you make him, how you’ve been making a home in his brain, living there, nesting.

The squelching and moaning coming from your mouth is echoing off the walls of this church bathroom, but it’s like you’re the only two people on earth. His lip curls up and his rhythm starts to grow more frenzied. He whimpers, “I’m- I’m gonna cum, baby. In your mouth?” You nod and bat your eyelashes up at him.

He’s looking down at you, tears brimming your lust-blown eyes, cheeks hollowed out, lips swollen and wet as his cock thrusts in and out of your pretty face-

A series of small moans leave his lips. His hips reach a fever pitch, then jerk forward a few times as cum spills into your mouth. You swallow the load while his cock is still submerged. His chest is still heaving when the death grip he has on your head softens and he pulls himself out with a pop . He pulls his boxer briefs up before helping you rise from your knees. Once upright, his thumb runs along your tingling, swollen lips, then he kisses you, coaxing your mouth open with his tongue so he can be inside you one more time before parting.

He pulls himself together and re-enters the chapel while you review the damage in the bathroom mirror. You look… like you just sucked someone off, honestly. Hair mussed, red puffy lips, mascara transferred onto your cheeks… and is that a fucking hickey ??

I’m going to murder him.

Once you fix yourself up the best you can and exit the bathroom, you realize the recessional hymn is playing, and decide that there’s really no point in going back into the chapel.

So, you grab your sketchbook and cigarettes out of your car, then open the hatchback so you can sit in the cargo area. Thankfully, your dress is long enough that you can cross your legs and prop the book up onto your thigh without the world seeing your soaked underwear. Cigarette in one hand, pencil in the other, you look around for inspiration; an out of place willow tree catches your eye, so you start to draw it. You hear a familiar gait approach and peak up from your paper to confirm it’s Javi. He lights up and sits next to you, observing your work in progress.

“Hello there,” you grin.

“Long time no see,” he winks.

A hum buzzes off your lips, then you point to the new marking on your skin with your pencil and scold him, “You gave me a hickey.”

His eyebrows raise and eyes widen; he winces as he inspects the enflamed skin, “ Shit . I got a little too carried away, I’m sorry.”

You look over at his apologetic face and wave it off, “I’ll just say I burned myself with my curling iron or something,” then continue sketching. Truth be told, you like the marking because it’s from him. If it weren’t for your scandalous predicament you’d wear it like a badge of honor. He leans back onto his elbows and casually watches you work, puffing away like a chimney. The silence that settles is comfortable. It’s so easy to spend time with him.

The other day, the two of you laid in the bed of his truck, bodies tangled in some configuration or another until the sun set. You exchanged ghost stories and urban legends. He told you that he believes in ghosts, which is shocking, but forbade you from telling a soul. Even after the cold set in until it made your fingertips numb and your bodies ached from laying against the hard metal ridges of truck bed, you were playing chicken, seeing which of you would say they have to leave first.

His presence is like a blanket, warm and comforting. But you sense that you have barely skimmed the surface of this man. You suppose he could say the same about you, too, and he’d be right. It seems that both of you have built a fortress around your hearts. With each talk, laugh, kiss, touch, comfortable silence… you allow yourselves to disarm it a little more.

Javi sits up and reviews at your progress. You tell him, “Did you know that if you plant a willow branch, a new tree will grow from it?”

He turns to look at you, raising his eyebrows, smiling at this fun fact, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably not this one, though,” he bites the inside of his cheek for a beat, then continues, gesturing to the huge shaggy tree, “It’s completely illogical that this tree is growing here. Weeping willows don’t grow in Texas.”

Your face screws up in confusion, “They don’t? Then how…?”

He looks as bewildered as you, “I have no idea. It’s why my abuela chose this church, though, because it’s a miracle that it exists here,” his gaze drops to his fidgeting hands, “Funny enough, my parents ended up meeting here when they were kids. Pop was homeschooled, so I don’t even know if they would have met otherwise.”

You set down your pencil and turn to him, “That’s how your parents ended up meeting? A freak willow tree brought them to the same place?”

“It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that,” he laughs.

“It’s like a fairy tale,” you giggle, placing your hand on his arm, “So, yes, it is ridiculous. But also… romantic. I love it.”

You rub your thumb affectionately against his arm through his suit jacket, hesitating to ask the question on the tip of your tongue. Speaking softly, you ask, “I’m sorry if this is out of line, but… is your mom…?”

“She died in 1982,” his gaze flicks to yours, you suppose he’s gauging whether or not to continue, “in a car accident,” he takes a deep breath and looks off at nothing in particular, “I uh… I was the Sheriff’s Deputy here at the time and first responder on the scene.”

“ Fuck , Javi,” you whisper, limbs falling limp at the implication.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just stares into the distance with that haunted look upon his face. When he opens his mouth to continue, his voice is raspy, “Seeing her… that’ll stick with me forever. She was already dead, couldn’t do anything, but I tried. My dad hasn’t been the same since then, you know. We uh… we miss her a lot.”

“Javi-“ you squeeze his arm and he turns towards you, eyes somber and watery. You pull him in for an embrace, cradling his head on your chest. It doesn’t matter who sees or what they think about this moment, that’s not what’s important. You brush your fingers through his locks, holding him close, breathing in the scent that’s so perfectly him. You wish you could take away all the pain, but know you can’t. His body becomes less rigid as he melts into you and wraps his arms around your torso. Quietly, you tell him, “I’m sorry that happened to you. And… thank you for trusting me with your story.”

“Thank you for listening, cariño.” he mumbles into your chest. You release him. The pet name he’s given you tightens your chest and makes you blush every time it rolls off his lips.

“Anytime,” you try to wink. It doesn’t work.

“You ok?” he raises an eyebrow at you while leaning back onto his elbows.

“Yeah I was um… winking at you,” you hide your reddened face.

He snorts, amused smile breaking out on his face, “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm,” you clamp your lips together, stifling laughter. Then look back up at him to demonstrate your wink again, which is more like one eye clenching shut while the other twitches uncontrollably.

Laughter erupts out of both of you. He asks between breaths, “You- you know what a wink is, right?”

“Oh my god shut the fuck up,” you cackle, smacking his chest, “I was just trying to be charming, like you!”

“You’re plenty charming. Maybe not good at winking, but you are charming,” he grins over at you and winks perfectly.

“You’re lucky I like you so much or I’d kick your ass,” you tease. Your heart lurches in your chest when you see the endearing way he’s looking at you.

He mumbles, “I’d like to see you try.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully and turn your attention back to drawing the freak of nature willow tree. Javier observes you occasionally while watching people, particularly keeping an eye out for either of your families. Eventually, you start thinking about Javier and Kim again, and curiosity gets the best of you. It just keeps gnawing at your mind and you can’t stop yourself from asking.

“I- I have a question,” you squeak.

He furrows his brow and looks over at you expectantly.

“Are you… seeing Kim?” you stumble, “Like, too? - I mean- obviously I have no say in that or whatever but-“ you clear your throat, “just, like, so I know.. you know?”

He seems to freeze up as he’s processing this. Your heart beats faster, tension builds in your shoulders, and you literally cannot stop yourself from continuing, “Because I know you two had uhm… kissed, or whatever, and you were her date last weekend…”

His expression doesn’t change, his eyes just search your face. You wriggle in your seat nervously.

“But we started uhh,” you swallow hard, trying to pantomime, “I guess, this… thing. And I just want to know.”

At this point, your heart is pounding so hard, you feel dizzy and you’re practically panting.

Am I sweating? Am I having a panic attack?

“No, I’m not involved with Kim. Or anyone else. Just you,” h e looks down at his hands, “I actually talked to her- Kimmy- after last weekend. We both agreed it would be better if we’re friends.”

The festering bundle of anxiety in your chest dissipates with a heavy exhale, immediately replaced by embarrassment and relief, “Why did you let me keep rambling like that? Jesus Christ.”

He raises his hands in the air defensively, “I was waiting for you to finish talking!” Then chuckles and smiles at you, “Besides, you were pretty cute, getting all flustered like that.”

Your face burns scarlet and you try to hide it by looking down at your paper and letting your hair cover your face. You feel him watching you.

“Hey, look at me,” he says softly. You sigh as you look up and let him see your beet red face. He tucks the hair in your face behind your ear, “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, then look down, “It’s just so silly because, you know, I’m fucking engaged. Why do I care if you see someone else? How is that even fair?” you confide, then throw your head back and groan, “It’s not. It’s not fair. But I think of you with someone else and, fuck , it tears me up. But what if you’re holding off on pursuing someone because of me? What if that person is the one you’re supposed to be with? What happens when I-” you stop and shake your head.

What happens when I fall in love and you leave for someone better?

He takes this opportunity to cut in and stop you from rambling into oblivion, “I’m pursuing you because I want you. I wouldn’t normally entertain the idea of being a paramour, trust me. It wouldn’t be worth the hassle,” your eyebrows draw together, you look over at him. He meets your gaze and smirks, “For anyone else, it wouldn’t be worth it. But you are.”

You realize you haven’t been breathing, so take a sharp inhale. Your heart hammers in your chest and you can feel heat rising in your face again. Every part of you feels a magnetic pull to him, aching for his touch.

“Why would you say something like that to me when we’re in public and I can’t kiss you?” you chide.

He grins at you so wide you can see his dimples and goddamn him .

“Can you wait until tomorrow?”

“If I have to.”

“I’ll pick you up around 3?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip.

You look down at the willow tree doodle, tear its page out, and hand it to him before you scoot out of the car, “I should go see what’s taking them so long. Bye, Javi.”

“See you tomorrow, beautiful.”

You don’t look back as you make your way back into the church, but by the time you and Dan come back out to leave, the trunk is closed and his red truck is gone from the lot.

[ Next Chapter ]

#jdett #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #pedro pascal #daddy pedro #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x oc #javier pena fic #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña fic #javier peña x y/n #javi peña x reader #javi peña #javi pena #javi pedro pascal #javier pena #javier pena narcos #narcos fic #pedro pascal character fanfic

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for breaking up with my kind of boyfriend?

I (M18) currently go to a boarding school. I can imagine you can guess where this is going. For the past 3ish years my roommate P(M18) and I have been having a secret. Relationship?

P is gay. He's 100% sure about this. But I'm not so sure, and a huge problem is my faith and my parents. Obviously being gay is not well regarded at my school, and it's even less well regarded by my parents, who expect me to graduate and go to a good college and eventually join my dad's law firm. My dad is extremely against gay people and when I quit the golf club he asked me if I was gay (except in stronger words that I can't exactly say). I know if I were to tell him about P and me, he would immediately fly up here and beat the shit out of me and then disown me.

Recently P has been acting really weird. He's been more affectionate in public (he tried to kiss me at a rave and also at our friend's birthday party, both when other people were around). He managed to rope me into our school's production of Romeo and Juliet, which my dad is totally gonna freak out about.

Today, in rehearsal, we were practicing the fight scene between Romeo and Tybalt (I'm Romeo) and M, (17M) who plays Tybalt, suddenly tackled me and called me the f slur. P had to physically pull him off of me.

So obviously I was a little frazzled, and then P decides to tell me that he saw a divine vision of the Holy Mary and she told him to come out to his parents, which is, obviously, a horrible idea. He was spouting some bullshit about how we'll graduate in three months and then we'll be free to do whatever he wants, which is obviously not true. I told him he was delusional, and it was never going to work out between us, and I broke up with him. Now he's been ignoring me, which really sucks because we're roommates. I feel bad, but he doesn't understand that my father would literally kill me if I was gay.

So, AITA for breaking up with him?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #child abuse #homophobia

[hopelesstaemintic]

The Promise of Spring (Ao3versary requests 3)

Better late than never! I actually finished this Friday but real life got in the way here it is lovely readers of tumblr. The schedule is out the window but I hope the fact that this fic is a whopping 6,800+ words more than makes up for it.

Thank you so much @calee231 for the prompt of Jeno, light angst and bento boxes. I hope this makes you as giddy as it made me when writing it. (I think my bias is showing).

Details, tags, preview and link to full fic are all below as usual.

Status

complete (17/03/23), 6,887 words, one chapter.

Summary

Jeno has invited you over to make food for the annual company cherry blossom viewing party. You reluctantly agree as you are busy trying to ignore some overly friendly feelings you have for him. A moment in the kitchen leads to some internal agonising that your friends do their best to help you resolve.

Relationships

Jeno/female reader

Tags

f/m, female reader, older woman/younger man, friends to lovers, smutty-fluff, cooking, picnics, sakura, oral sex, vaginal sex, snogging, making out, burnt eggs, Haechan is wrong, inexperienced Jeno, light angst.

Link to full work

Preview

"Simple, yes?"

Jeno nods like a puppy who knows he should respond but doesn't know why.

"You weren't listening were you? Look, when I said I'd come over and help you cook for the picnic I didn't mean I would just do everything for you."

"Sorry, Noona. I'm trying. Can you show me how to roll the kimbap again?" Jeno brushes his fringe out of his eyes and yawns so wide you wonder if he is going to dislocate his jaw.

"Late night?"

"Yeah, we didn't finish practice till 3:00"

You look over at the mishapen mound of rice and seaweed that is Jeno's first attempt and decide to take pity on him. "Fine, but pay attention. I still need to pop home to change and we haven't even got started on the geran mari."

Jeno just nods sleepily and turns to watch you as you place a fresh piece of seaweed on your rolling mat and start spreading on the cooked rice. You are about to start layering in the filling when he moves behind you and places his chin on your shoulder.

"yah… I'm not a pillow."

Your protest is half-hearted and Jeno ignores it. Instead of moving away he wraps his arms around your waist and leans his body into your back.

"I can see better like this, plus I'm cold."

"So I'm a heater now?"

Jeno just hums in agreement and squeezes you a little tighter. Despite his claims he feels warm against you. He smells good, like fresh laundry, making you think of bare skin and cotton sheets and half-asleep kisses and you wonder idly if he would still hug you like this if he knew you'd thought about touching him a thousand times. If he knew that the woman he treated like a big sister dreamt of tugging off his clothes. You take a deep breath and internally shake off thoughts of being under him so you can focus on the task in hand without giving yourself away. He'd asked you, his friend, to help him with this and you were going to help. That's what friends do. Friends.

For two people from fairly different worlds, born over ten years apart, you've become closer than anyone would predict. Things had been comfortable from the moment you'd been introduced, a year ago almost to the day. You'd been at a loose end when your school friend, Donghae, had invited you to the cherry blossom viewing with a few people from his work. As if hanging out with artists from one of the largest entertainment companies in South Korea was a completely normal thing. At first you were nervous about meeting celebrities, but when Jeno sat next to you, ate your food, and then immediately declared you had to come to every company picnic, the anxiety quickly wore off. Perhaps he'd been told to look out for you by Donghae, they'd long been closer than brothers, but regardless of the reason Jeno had made an effort to get to know you from the start. You met a lot of cool people that day, some you'd kept in touch with and some you hadn't, but Jeno had become a permanent fixture.

There are lots of simple reasons for this. Initially you'd liked his quiet sense of humour, his thoughtfulness, and his straightforward nature. He's easy to read and you hate having to guess if others are in a bad mood. The two of you have similar taste in movies and food. You both hate oysters and like to nerd out over cars. You both like cats. In the early days your shared friendship with Donghae meant you'd had an uncomplicated reason to keep hanging out, nobody questioning when the three of your would meet for dinner. After dinner number five Donghae had bailed last minute and you'd ended up watching a movie just the two of you at your place. Now it isn't weird that Jeno calls you up when he wants advice, or that you come over to the dorm occasionally to have a drink after work. The other boys are used to you. You are just Noona. Just a woman who happens to be Jeno's friend. That's all it it is.

So when Jeno had asked you to help him make a lunch box for this year's picnic your answer had been simple. Of course you would. You hadn't asked who it was for and your were ignoring the irritable little gremlin that surfaced in your stomach every time you contemplated possible answers. He can date who he likes. Friends can date other people. You are friends. Except when he crosses that line and holds you, when you can feel his long black hair tickling your cheek and his heartbeat through your back. In fact, when he does what he is doing in this exact moment you don't feel like friends. It feels like…

"Okay, ice-man. I think you are warm enough now." You squirm out of Jeno's grip before you can follow that last thought through to its conclusion, "You finish making the kimbap and I'll get started on the eggs."

Continue reading here

Enjoy this work? leave a like or reblog - every single one is appreciated. If you want to read more you can find links and descriptions to everything in my master list.

If you want to listen along to the accompanying playlist you can find links to my spotify on my soundtracks page and also on my caard, which also has a link to my twitter.

Also if anyone wants to be added to a tag list just drop me an ask or let me know in a reblog. 🤗

#jeno x reader #nct smut #smut and fluff #nct x female reader #older woman/younger man #bento box #cherry blossom #friends to lovers #nct x reader #ao3 anniversary

[parrlen]

The Blessed Woman, 1723 by Parrlen, petrichorca

Me and my lovely friend @petrichorca wrote this Mary/Ed/Doug/Stede bi4bi4bi4bi sandwich buffet and we’re really proud of it. Ed asks Mary to paint a nude portrait of him and 🌶🔥🥵 shenanigans ensue. Ft. Stede soft-domming Doug, just in case you’re as affected by this pic as we are:

(It was a complete coincidence that this pic was posted on the same day as our fic but the vibe still fits and we like to think that this moment Awakened something in Doug)

Rating: Explicit

Categories: F/MM/MMulti

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Relationships: Mary Allamby Bonnet/Doug, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Mary Allamby Bonnet, Stede Bonnet/Doug, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Mary Allamby/Doug

Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Mary Allamby Bonnet, Doug (Our Flag Means Death)

Additional Tags: Foursome - F/M/M/M, Group Sex, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Vaginal Fingering, Oral SexSquirting, Multiple Orgasms, Spanking, Cock Warming, Praise Kink, Some Soft Domming, Unprotected Sex, Canon Era, post-reunion, Bisexual Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Bisexual Stede Bonnet, Bisexual Mary Allamby Bonnet, Bisexual Doug (OFMD), everyone is bi, Everyone is having a good time, Bi4Bi4Bi4Bi, Porn with some plot, A Lot of Sandwiches, Teamwork makes the dream work, deeply horny painting, breaking the laws of dick mechanics

#ofmd #ofmd fanfic #our flag means death #ofmd fanfic rec #edward teach #stede bonnet #mary allamby bonnet #doug ofmd

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

we share the same sun.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53893513 by JamieB93 “You’re working on something” Peter told him, “I know you are. There’s no way you’ve just been sitting around here for the last month waiting for updates on Harley on the news. That’s not your style.” Tony briefly considered denying the charge, but realized it was pointless. Peter was already hoisting himself off of the couch and approaching Tony’s work desk. He followed the teenager. “I’ve not gotten very far” Tony admitted, “It really is like whoever took your brother just disappeared off the face of the Earth, no one can get a jump on where he might be. But I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure that Harley’s out there somewhere.” “At least you’re trying” Peter replied Words: 12776, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 24 of Blood Feud Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Harley Keener, Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Harry Osborn, Mary Jane Watson, Johnny Storm, Felicia Hardy, Michelle Jones (Marvel), Ned Leeds, Pepper Potts, Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Uncle Ben Parker (Marvel), Norman Osborn Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Harry Osborn/Mary Jane Watson, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker Additional Tags: Kidnapped Harley Keener, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley Keener & Peter Parker are Siblings, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Hurt Harley Keener, Peter Parker & Tony Stark Friendship, Harry Osborn Needs a Hug, Protective Harry Osborn, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Minor Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Good Friend Michelle Jones (Marvel), Good Friend Ned Leeds, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Harley Keener-centric, Kidnapping, Violence, Public Humiliation, scenes of a teenager in distress read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/53893513

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

[ao3feed-kathony]

A viscount in Connecticut

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55557754 by Penladies Kate Sharma has known Viscount Anthony Birdgerton for almost a year. Anthony has hired her to be the head of his family’s PR team. It’s been good. Most of the time. He calls her Sharma. She calls him Bridgerton. There has been attraction. Also tension, stubbornness and doubt. They are idiots. Can a weekend at the Dragonfly Inn help to get it right? If you ever watched Gilmore Girls and thought that Kate and Anthony would enjoy a weekend at the Dragonfly Inn, this might be the fic for you. Words: 4601, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Eloise Bridgerton, Edwina Sheffield | Edwina Sharma, Violet Bridgerton, Mary Sheffield | Mary Sharma, Agatha Danbury Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Additional Tags: Kanthony romcom in Stars Hollow, annoyances to lovers and it’s complicated, Lorelai smells snow, Do these tags make sense? who cares, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anthony Bridgerton and Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma Being Clowns, Anthony Bridgerton and Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma Being Idiots, Modern day Viscount and his PR boss lady, a Lorelai Emily introduction but the rest is Kanthony, lots of kanthony flashback not necessarily in order, in the flashbacks there's Thomas Dorset in relationship with Kate, Anthony falls first and harder, Light Angst, Cletus and Desdemona get new riders, I lost a bet and I had to post this read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55557754

#kathony #kanthony #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #ao3feed #fanfic

[love-bokumono-fics]

Fresh Crops! March 24 - March 31, 2024

This week's newest fics and chapter updates for Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons on AO3!

Under the Name - by ModernTsunami; WIP, 15/63, 137k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: Major Character Death; Categories: F/M, Gen Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town Relationships: Elli/Doctor Trent | Torre, Elli | Elly & Stu | Yu, Elli | Elly & Old Ellen, Elli | Elly/Rick; Characters: Doctor | Trent, Elli | Elly, Old Ellen, Stu | Yu, Rick, Mary the Librarian | Marie, Jennifer Additional Tags: Character Development, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Co-workers, Roommates, Grief/Mourning, Smoking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Strangers to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Medical, Implied Sexual Content, Illness, Injury Summary: When Trent accepted the offer to run a rural health clinic, he didn't realize he was taking on the part of small-town doctor and neighbor. The dual relationships he develops with the residents of Mineral Town begin to shape his ideas of who he is and who he wants to be. But growing closer to others always runs the risk of clouding one's judgment. While small-town life is nothing new to Elli, being caretaker to her younger brother and homebound grandmother is. There’s nothing she wants more than the confidence that what she’s doing for them is right, but as she strives to fulfill her growing obligations to her family, she finds it harder to hold on to what she wants for herself. Together they work in the clinic and learn the difference between what you do and who you are.

Sugar and Spice - by Chibimiie; WIP, 62/?, 167k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: Animal Parade Relationships: Chase/Molly the Farmer, Angela/Luke; Characters: Molly | Hikari, Angela the Farmer, Chase, Luke, Kasey the Farmer Additional Tags: Slow Burn, oh god how do you tag fics, mentions of eating disorders, alternating povs, Friends to Lovers, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, bumped up the rating because i honestly should have a little bit ago, burn so slow it's honestly a simmer, Mutual Pining Summary: Wanting to get away from past hurts of the city, sisters Molly and Angela decide to respond to a flyer advertising an abandoned farm on the faraway island of Castanet. Leaving behind their closest friends and brother Kasey, the two take a chance and move to the tiny island hoping for a new chance at life.

The Scientist and his Farmer - by Daryls_Favourite; WIP, 16/?, 21k

Rating: Explicit; Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M Fandoms: A Wonderful Life Relationship: Daryl/reader; Characters: Daryl, Rock, Muffy | Molly, Marlin | Matthew, Forgotten valley villagers, Reader Additional Tags: BDSM, Bondage, Multiple Orgasms Summary: You have been living in forgotten valley for a little under a year. Winter is underway and you need to keep your farm afloat whilst also trying to court a suitable spouse.

Very Good Advice - by durotos; Complete, 1/1, <1k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandoms: A Wonderful Life Character: Muffy | Molly Additional Tags: Heartbreak, Songfic Summary: Muffy contemplates her decisions in love as she takes a break on the bridge in Forget-Me-Not-Valley. Inspired by the song "Very Good Advice" by Doris Day. Written for Love-Bokumono-Fics (tumblr) March Casual prompt: Songfic Shuffle!

You probably forgot about me, anyway. - by Anonymous; Complete, 1/1, 1.6k

Rating: Not Rated; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: Gen Fandoms: Grand Bazaar, The Tale of Two Towns Relationships: Dirk & Ivan, Ivan/Freya; Characters: Dirk, Ivan, Freya (mentioned) Summary: Dirk thinking about the good and bad times of when Ivan raised him.

#fresh crop monday #harvest moon #story of seasons #tale of two towns #friends of mineral town #grand bazaar #a wonderful life #animal parade #sorry this is slightly delayed. i was distracted by the Boops