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jacevelaryonswife · 15 days

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You Really Got Me | Professor!Michael Gavey x student!fem reader

summary: With a perfect CV, Michael Gavey was on top of the fucking world and mediocrity has never seemed so inherent to you before. The new Professor of Number Theory awakened inappropriate feelings that could become risky if they were reciprocal.

a/n: well, it was quite difficult to write this because I’m not familiar with the Oxford environment and I hope that my research has made this story as credible as possible.

tags: slight slow burn, smut, p in v sex, power imbalance, swearing.

word count: 5.7k

ewanverse masterlist | next part

Michael Gavey was... many things.

A lot of things, definitely.

Michael, or rather, Professor Gavey now, aroused conflicting feelings in you.

Admiration, fear, fascination and another whirlwind was felt when it was the new and brilliant Professor of Numbers Theory. He took over the discipline of a dear veteran and great name of mathematics in Oxford, his advisor in the master’s and PhD. Obviously great expectation formed around it, around him, wondering if he would be able to overcome the grandeur of his predecessor.

And apparently he was causing a certain commotion with his above-average intelligence and his eccentric personality.

Obviously you started a search for the CV of your next professor and the finding was surprisingly extraordinary. Speaker of the 2010 class, several projects carried out, postgraduate (also in Oxford), articles published in journals with high impact factor and experience at McKinsey & Company for 2 years.

Michael Gavey was on top of the fucking world and mediocrity had never seemed so inherent to you before.

Saying that you were intimidated by the first contact with him was an understatement- you were fucking terrified. The rumors of an alleged above-average intelligence proved to be untrue. Above average? No shit, he was far beyond everything you experienced. Your eyes didn’t dare to move away from him and the painting during the following hours, too fascinated by what was happening in your fucking front. You felt a current of pure mathematics run through your body and camp in your brain, illuminating all the neurons.

What the fuck had just happened?

You learned that every class he taught was a learning experience rarely experienced before. The passion he conveyed when teaching overflowed in all his expressions so intensely that it made you orbit around him slowly.

And that was the beginning of a problem.

A big problem.

But you hadn’t noticed yet.

“If I ever thought I was smart, forget it! Michael Gavey is the epitome of everything I want to be,” your good friend Miranda said before taking a sip of her latte.

“I know right? Every class I feel that my brain will explode,” you said while leaning your head against the table, “but I can understand what it teaches, at least a good part of things. I know I already have an advisor and our work is almost published, but I think I’m thinking of getting out of Algebra and trying something with Gavey,” you looked at her.

“Woah, are you fucking sure? I mean- if that’s what you really want, that’s fine, but I think it’s too mind blowing for me,” she said.

“For me too, but it’s fucking interesting, I really want to do at least one research in this area.”

“... hmm,” Miranda smirked, humming.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she superficially drank her coffee, “hmm.”

“Cut the bullshit,” you complained as you looked at her impatiently.

“It’s nothing, it’s just that from a certain angle he’s quite cute,” she said in a thin voice.

“Who? Gavey?”

“Yeah. He’s... different from the guys you usually date or are interested in but he’s not bad looking,” she explained.

“Come on, do you really think I’m interested in him? He's our professor and a big nerd to boot!” The last thing wasn’t totally the end of the world.

“And? It’s not like students and professors have never fucked before, although I don’t think he’d risk that much, he seems to be quite methodical,” she said calmly, “and most importantly, he’s clever as fuck and that automatically makes him sexy, if he’s not an idiot.”

That was absurd, you weren’t interested in Michael Gavey!

... right?

You thought about it for the rest of the day.

Was Michael Gavey, in addition to his bestial intellect, physically attractive?

Suddenly, you began to notice how his lips were perfectly drawn and pink as he explained the most beautiful things you had ever heard in those years at Oxford. Damn it. It was Miranda’s fault, obviously. You tried to convince yourself of that while elaborating a way to approach you about the possibility of a research project without embarrassing yourself. Obviously you tried to impress him before that, answering questions whenever possible and redoing all the examples and notes he passed around. When your own mind couldn’t assimilate some details, you looked for him to ask questions and oh Lord, he was more than attentive.

The proximity also made you realize how blue his eyes were under the glasses, and how his hands were- no, wait, what were those veins? Those long and thin fingers? You know what they say about guys with big hands... And his fluffy dirty blonde hair and those soft and ugly sweaters, his height, his waist-

DAMN IT MIRANDA!

That afternoon you gathered the courage to introduce the subject after your classmates left, using your best words to make a good impression.

“I have some interesting ideas that would yield good research, but before recruiting someone, I evaluate performance throughout the term; grades, posture, commitment, everything is observed.”

“Oh... sure, professor.”

“You’re doing well so far, you have good chances, keep it up.”

You wanted to scream. You’ve been recognized.

If your previous efforts were continuous to make a good impression, they would now be compulsive to stand out from the others. You needed to have him as an advisor. And all the eagerness to please him, all the competitive desire to excel, all that fervor triggered a fire that consumed every stretch of your body silently.

And that was a problem.

It shouldn’t be, but it became without you noticing.

“Do you know how many people would sacrifice everything to sit on these chairs? Walking through these corridors? Breathe this air? All of you have an obligation to achieve more than perfection, especially if you are here because of mommy and daddy’s money.”

You knew that very well. Gavey was very demanding about the quality of his students, always reinforcing the privilege of being in this environment, which in itself would make his discipline one of the most important of that term, but your current disposition made you demand almost all attention for him, for the test that was coming, for what you aspired to in the future.

And the result couldn’t be better.

You had a 100% performance in the first test. Excellent, handwritten next to the note. “Good work, keep it up,” he said with a subtle smile.

“Thank you, professor.”

So that’s what the butterflies in your stomach were from.

You smiled, satisfied as you reaped the fruit of weeks of hard work, too numb in your own pride to feel a close eye to follow your steps to the exit, although you had not gone unnoticed by Miranda.

“I think someone caught Gavey’s attention,” she hummed low, approaching on your side to lightly nudge your body with her hip.

“I know right? I need this opportunity,” you celebrated, oblivious to the implicit tone of her voice.

“I didn’t mean that way, babe. It's just he’s keeping an eye on you constantly, literally checking you every- I don’t know, three minutes?” She said it as if it were obvious.

“What? No, I don’t think it’s in this sense, he uses everything as a parameter of choice, he’s just observing my posture.” What? To believe that Gavey had ulterior motives? Too unreal.

“No, sweetheart, he was staring at you when no one paid attention, or almost no one, and he spent most of his time looking at you,” she insisted.

“You don't really thi-“

“I totally think so!”

Oh fuck.

“I’m not saying he’s in love with you, but he's interested, hell yeah,” she explained as you slowly processed her words.

“Fuck,” you said, “do you really, really think so? I mean- he doesn’t look like the type who stays with students.”

Definitely not, he seemed too methodical for that, methodical enough to separate the spectra of his life into compartments.

But what if there was the possibility? You couldn’t reproduce that question audibly, but in the comfort of your bed, you allowed yourself to daydream.

If there was some possibility?

Well, there were pros and cons that needed to be analyzed meticulously, of course.

In the event that Michael was a systematic monster, there wouldn’t be problems in a relationship since he wouldn’t mix romance with studies, theoretically. On the other hand, if he didn’t know how to differentiate the staff from the professional... well, you’d be fucked up if something went wrong. And that was the main point: the mistake.

The consequences would be drastic if something bad happened, especially to you, whose life was still under construction and a scholarship in Oxford could not be negotiated. The cost was too high.

However, over the weeks, you could only think about how attractive your professor was.

And now you know it’s a problem.

And with that, the end of year 2 was near when you received an email from Michael Gavey requesting to send your notes and certificates of everything you had done and participated in so far. Jesus, that man wasn’t kidding.

Neither were you.

That same morning you attached the documents to the e-mail and forwarded a response, as a result, your presence was requested at his office as soon as possible. I’m available in the afternoon, you send to him.

It was complicated to make your legs stop shaking along the way, practically jumping through the corridors while trying to stay calm. It was your chance, one where nothing could go wrong. You wore your best clothes, put on accessories that you used to wear daily and a subtle makeup to make a good impression, nothing that drew too much attention.

Stopping in front of his door, you took a deep breath and announced your presence with a light knock against the old wood, receiving immediate permission to enter the space. You would've liked the time and the absence of an observer to analyze all the details, but instead your eyes locked with his as he walked back to his chair.

“Good afternoon,” he said, a polite smile illuminating his beautiful face as he pointed to the chair in front of you, “have a seat. Please.”

“Good afternoon, professor, thank you,” you greeted him back, shaking your hands anxiously as you sat down.

With no time to allow your eyes to wander through the objects on the table, Michael cut straight to the point. "So, what aroused your interest in Number Theory?" You, to begin with.

"Well, I chose Maths at the age of 17, but things were difficult when I started the course. I was disenchanted considerably, but I always remained active. When your classes started I felt the same thing that motivated me to join here, it was as if everything had made sense again and I really fell in love with it."

“I see,” he said, crossing his hands over the table with a soft smile and a slight pink to his cheeks. Did you make him blush? No way. "I’m happy to have contributed positively to your training. I really appreciated your performance during classes and the analysis of your CV. The activities you have developed are also good but they can improve, I believe you also aspire to it. I seek a high level of quality in my students, after all we are in one of the best universities in the world and excellence is the least expected, I believe we agree on that. Have you already decided where you would like to specialise within Number Theory?"

"To be honest, no, but I would like to find out in-"

"I have some ideas that I’d like to be executed, I can show you now, if you don't have something in mind," he interrupted you with enthusiasm.

"... yes, I’d love to," you said, "but first, thank you for the opportunity you’re giving me, I admire you so much from the first classes and I feel really happy to receive this chance, I know there are many successful veteran professors, but I believe that a current view of a person as impressive as you can bring interesting results."

And if he had blushed with your previous statement, now he was red as a tomato and all disconcerted as he looked down with a shyness never witnessed before by you. It was deadly cute.

Gosh, you were really fucked.

═════════════════════

Working with Michael was exciting.

Terrifying too.

You felt constantly intimidated by his intellect, which caused a mix of sensations that varied according to the day. There was the pride of collaborating with him, the fear of failing, the paranoia of not being good enough and the satisfaction of achieving good results. It was a real roller coaster.

The passing of the months dissipated the initial strangeness and made living more comfortable. On the other hand, the proximity made you watch him for longer. It was pathetic.

Michael spent most of his time in front of his computer, correcting things, creating things and participating in events. You weren’t the only one under his guidance, there was Paul, a recent entry in Maths who was too inert in his own world to notice any non-standard deviation. Paul was a reminder and a barrier for nothing to come out of your daydreams, although he didn't seem very interested in what you were doing.

Still, you couldn't feed those thoughts, your relationship should be strictly professional.

It didn't matter how discreetly he approached you to help, or how close he leaned towards you- more than what was considered respectful. Or how good he smelled and looked so comfortable with his cheesy sweaters and old shoes. Or when you looked at him closely while he explained something.

How it was happening at that very moment.

“You're wasting time trying to demonstrate this equation, it's not so important for the project,” he said when analysing your latest advances.

"I know, but I'd like to understand better and I'm not getting it, it seems too abstract," you said with a frustrated pout, bothered by being stuck in something so simple.

"You've already solved more difficult things," he stressed, looking at you consciously, "can I?" he asked, referring to your notebook and the pen next to your laptop.

“Sure.”

Your attention focused on the numbers and symbols scribbled on the paper, trying to keep up with the speed of his thought. Watching it has always been fascinating.

“Some things are more difficult when we make them like this,” he said as he sketched on the paper.

"It's easy to say that being you," you replied, lamenting the failed attempt to absorb some of his knowledge.

"But it's true."

Unconsciously, you leaned your shoulder against his arm. "Some things are naturally difficult, not everyone can visualise like you."

"I know, it's a natural advantage," he smirked, looking at you over his shoulder, face closer than usual. "But you have a good brain, you shouldn't make it harder than it is."

So close.

"And how should I make it easier?" You held your breath, not daring to look beyond his beautiful blue irises.

"Find in the problem points that are favourable to you, try to demystify them, make them palpable," he replied slowly, taking a deep breath.

Really close.

"And if there's nothing to be explored?"

"You can always call me."

"… I know."

So close.

═════════════════════

After that, you don't know what or why, but something has changed in your relationship with Michael.

His looks became more persistent, his presence seemed closer, almost palpable. Maybe it was a daydream of your own mind, but it looked different, inexplicably different. The air seemed heavier when there was proximity. He seemed comfortable when he touched your shoulder while you read your results. It was nothing, you thought.

There was something not said and that was enough to bring out fears and expectations.

Why not? You thought repeatedly, knowing the reasons very well.

But, maybe...

Maybe you needed to get him out of your head for a few hours, meet some nice guys, drink a little, it was a good idea.

That's why that Friday night you decided to go to one of the nearby pubs with Miranda. It was a good plan, you would leave the lab at 5 PM and get ready to meet her at 7 PM. It was in fact a good plan... until the data analysis program decided to crash in the middle of your work and a malaise affected your friend, in addition to a grotesque rain that started to fall recently. Well, at least you tried.

After collecting the material from the bench, you stretched your arms above your head to ward off the hours of agonizing stress and got up from the chair. It was already late and your view was tired, more than your own body when Michael showed up with his keys in his hand after closing his own office. He spent the afternoon by your side trying to solve the damn problem in addition to his chores as a teacher.

"Everything worked out?" He asked.

"Yeah, at least that," you grumbled, picking up your backpack, "thank you for the help," you looked at him before going to the switches to turn off the equipment.

"You’re welcome," he said simply, in a softer tone than usual. Thunder echoed when you turned off the lights and made you retreat briefly in fright, making himhim laugh softly. "So, what does your generation do to have fun Friday night?" He asked casually after leaving the laboratory.

"Considering that these pubs are older than you and me, I think the same thing your generation did," you replied humorously, looking at him with a small smile, "Unfortunately not with this rain."

"Did you have plans?" He asked.

"Yes, my friend and I’d go to MacLaren's pub, but she's sick and the world decided to fall suddenly and I didn't bring my umbrella," you said faster than you intended, a brief irritation about how your night was totally destroyed. “And you?”

“No plans,” he said, adjusting his sweater. His car was close, but the rain prevented him from advancing a lot. "Are you walking?" He asked.

"Yes- I mean as soon as the rain passes," you crossed your arms and hugged yourself.

"I can take you," he said, his words beginning to make your heart beat faster.

It's no big deal, it's just a polite gesture.

"Oh no, you don't have to, honestly. I can wait," you said, although the twinge in your heart meant the opposite. Why the fuck did I deny it? Damn it.

"It's no big deal, besides we don't know when it will pass," he said, "we can wait in my car, I'm fucking freezing here."

"Sure." You tried not to freak out at the idea of being in such a restricted and warm environment with him, but Michael didn't seem to share the concern, since he basically ran in the middle of the fine rain to reach his car. Okay then. You went right behind, putting the backpack above your head to protect yourself from the water and closing the door harder than you intended. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting that,” you said with a light laugh.

"I just needed this heater," he said with a small smile on his lips, messing with things on the panel, "I also didn't bring an umbrella."

Avoiding making him uncomfortable when analyzing his every movement, you took your cell phone to try to distract yourself, relaxing when the hot air became present. It was almost 6:45 when You Really Got Me filled your ears and made you look at him.

"Do you like The Kinks?" You asked.

"I'm a fan, what about you?"

"My friend is a big fan."

“And you?”

"I like some songs."

"My grandfather was a great vinyl collector, he left everything to my father but he was never into rock in general," he said as he adjusted his glasses, looking at you with soft eyes.

You looked at him with interest. "I started listening to rock to get the attention of a guy I liked. It didn't work but I really liked the songs, although I don't listen to the same bands as I did when I was younger."

Michael laughed. The sound was carefree, almost relaxed even, a facet you didn't see often. He looked soft, cozy, in that burnt orange sweater he wore. "And what do you listen to?"

“I listen to a lot of Oasis, but that's not really 60's stuff. But I also like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Strokes...”

“Big fan of Oasis,” he said.

“Really?”

"I have all the vinyls and I went to a concert in Manchester before the separation." He paused, "Would you like to see them?"

There was an intensity in his look that made your breathing fail, making the air heavy. The casualness of the situation did not seem so natural all of a sudden. He meant-

“In my home.”

Shit shit shit shit

You couldn't, you shouldn't.

“Yes.”

═════════════════════

And so, contrary to all the possibilities of the night, you were in Michael fucking Gavey's house.

A veiled restlessness endured in the air and in the way your heart beat as you were taken by the unknown path. You couldn't believe you had agreed to that, but here you were, looking at every detail of his flat with curiosity. It was large, clean and almost minimalist in design, some thematic objects of mathematics scattered around on the shelves, walls and table. Nerd.

A short silence was maintained while your eyes eagerly explored his place. "Do you want to drink something?"

"Water would be great," you tried to keep the modesty, while watching him go to the kitchen and approach with your request with his gaze locked on yours.

You couldn't be imagining things, there was something there, a different glow, an unspoken truth that caused chills to run through your body.

"You can sit down, I'll get the vinyls."

Your heart was almost exploding since the invitation. You couldn't believe he brought you here, much less that you agreed to come. What the fuck should you do? Let him show you the records and then go? That was stupid.

You forced a conscious smile when he appeared with the records in his hand, watching with a certain curiosity.

“Here,” he said with what you assumed to be a nervous smile, “This is definitely my favourite, although What's the Story? Morning Glory introduced me to the band-“

Your brain wandered when he started digging non-stop about the albums, not giving a damn about Noel and Liam Gallagher's drama, all that mattered was that you were next to Michael Gavey, on his couch, at his house. Michael, the man who took away your sleep and made you constantly daydream. The man who fascinated and intimidated you to the same extent, who made your body warm up when it was close and imagined what it would be like if he got closer.

With his beautiful eyes, nose and lips, big hands and long fingers, soft and beautiful dirty blond hair.

You've wanted it for a long time.

You wanted him.

Wanted to fuck him.

You wanted to fuck your own professor.

And you're tired of denying it.

"I know I shouldn't do that, but it's all I've been thinking about for months."

You interrupted him, touching his cheek as you slowly leaned against him. He froze in place, not preventing your advances as your faces grew closer and closer. Your lips gently brushed against his before pressing harder, starting a fearful and shy, almost chaste kiss.

He didn't reciprocate.

Your heart sank, panic blooming in your stomach.

What did I do?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

His lips silenced any doubts that dared to emerge, holding the back of your head while kissing you experimentally. You didn't waste time in moving your lips at the pace he set, holding the back of his neck and smoothing his beautiful face, tasting the taste of his lips.

You couldn't believe it, you couldn't! He was kissing you!

Michael Gavey was kissing you!

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't-" he said as he walked away abruptly, but you didn't care.

You attacked his hungry lips and made him move the discs away when he leaned against his body, climbing on his lap and holding both sides of his neck. His hand went down your back and held your ass firmly while the other grasped on the back of your neck, pulling your body closer and asking for access to your mouth with his tongue. You kissed, sucked, and bit his pink lips, taking advantage of everything you could before moving away to look into his eyes, looking for any sign of reluctance.

“I've wanted to do this for a long time,” he confessed.

“Me too,” you said.

And then you were kissing him again, and again, and again until your lips were red, wet and swollen. Your body warmed up when a bulge emerged below your thighs, instinctively grinding against it.

“Fuck- I can't, we can't do that, I'm your fucking professor,” he said out of breath, holding your arms and briefly pushing your body away. "This can ruin everything- fuck up our relationship-"

He was red, dilated pupils and heavy breathing, a fucking vision.

“I know, I know. But... just this time, we can forget just this time... what do you think?"

He held firmly one side of your face and looked into your eyes. “Are you fucking sure about this?”

“I'm fucking sure.”

Just this time.

"... just this time."

He leaned over to kiss you quickly, moving his hands under your blouse to take it over his head, groping the exposed skin of your arms, waist and belly with his big hands while drinking from your body with lascivious eyes. "Beautiful," he whispered.

His lips traveled to spice up moist kisses on your neck, sucking the conjuncture with his shoulder, licking your throat, making you melt and close your eyes when he found your sweet spot. Who knew he had that fire? He nibbled and sucked the sensitive skin, holding your waist firmly when he raised you and put you on the floor, leaving you stunned as he guided you by the hand to the room.

Michael didn't have time for your reasoning to come back when he gently pushed you against the door with both hands next to your head. “You're fucking gorgeous.”

“And you're handsome,” you removed his orange sweater, touching the skin of his torso.

"... you don't have to reciprocate the compliment."

Your chest hurt when you heard that, which made you touch his cheek instinctively. "I'm not saying out of courtesy, Michael, you're fucking attractive," you traced his lips with your thumb, looking at him firmly. “Fucking handsome.”

A slight blush took over his cheeks and he captured your lips with passion, holding your waist while kissing life outside of you. Your head was spinning and your stomach warmed up by intimacy, straightening his soft hair. You were in the damn clouds.

His hands moved to unbutton your pants and lower them, kneeling before you to remove your shoes and jeans, kissing the stomach trail to the top of your panties and shamelessly touching your drenched pussy.

"Mmm," you shuddered and closed your eyes when he started rubbing your clitoris, increasing the moisture between your thighs. Fuck. Your goddamn professor was kneeling in front of you. If you weren't wet before, now a river has accumulated in your center.

"Is that good?" He asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered, holding onto him for better support, watching him continue to massage your clit now directly into the skin while leaving kisses on your belly. You leaned dramatically against the door when he stuck a finger in your entrance, pumping slowly, feeling you, teasing. “Fuck.”

Michael removed his finger and stood up, unbuttoning his belt quickly and taking off his pants and shoes, leaving you warm and needy and following him like a puppy when he went to the headboard near the bed and opened the upper drawer to take off a condom. Damn it, he was so fine. Before his hands were on your body, you slowly pushed him on the bed and took control, removing the bra and discarding the panties. You couldn't believe what was about to happen.

Your body trembled when he pulled you by the waist and clapped your breasts as you sat on his covered cock and ground over it.

"Fuck," he grunted, sucking one nipple.

"Michael," you moaned, panting. 'Professor,' that's what you wanted to shout, pulling the hair from the back of his neck. He moaned when you kept grinding against his erection and hoisted your hips to lay you on the sheets.

Your mouth opened when he discarded his underwear - not even in the wettest dreams did you imagine that size. He was fucking fine. Tall, thin, defined and with a beautiful cock. Fuck-

Michael Gavey was really a box full of surprises. He barely had time to adjust his glasses and put on the condom before he was pulled by you to take over the top, caged by your legs.

He captured your lips in a sweet kiss, leaning on his elbow as he adjusted between your thighs. The next thing you felt was the welcome intrusion into your folds, stretching you open deliciously. The initial stretch was a little painful, it's been a while since you've been with someone, but he was slow and careful when sinking into your core, making your toes curl up and a relieved moan come out of your throat when he was totally inside.

"Are you alright?" He asked with his face above yours.

"Yes," you held his back, "just wait a minute, please."

“Okay,” he said with a red face, hoarse voice and almost breathless.

Your walls were pulsating when you finally received it, relaxing when the slight discomfort passed. “Move.”

His thrusts were soft, but firm, looking at you closely. You couldn't believe that, yes, Michael was fucking you. Finally.

You leaned up to kiss him while holding your back, groping his wrinkles around your eyes. He was fucking handsome. His hips went further and faster when your body was totally receptive, the moisture and heat surrounding him and making him slip without hindrance. He leaned his forehead against yours and held your hips when you dug your feet on the bed, hitting deeper than before, making you moan loudly and your pussy squeeze instinctively.

A hoarse moan was his response, almost a whining that was swallowed by your lips.

You were in the fucking clouds with the intimacy of the moment, tracing patterns on his back and pulling the blonde strands from the back of the neck when the thrusts became more intense, deliberately repeating his name. Michael attacked the conjuncture of your neck and lifted your thigh even more to go deeper, deliciously hitting your core.

"Michael- fuck-" You could only think of how good he felt, how big his cock was and how his bulbous head brushed your sweet spot whenever he moved. You needed it too much. Holding his shoulders and pushing him away a little, you looked at him panting, making his eyes widen.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked with a tense body.

"No, no, It's just-" and then you moved to take control, resting your hands on his chest, "this." You wanted to ride him since the time you called me in your office. You rubbed your hips against his groin in an addictive rhythm, loving the friction against your clitoris and the feeling of being totally filled.

"Fuck," he grunted, squeezing your ass, groping your hip, holding your breasts, covering every piece of skin available.

You started moving on his cock, touching his chest gently. You felt it all over your core and that burned your whole body, especially when your spongy spot was being brushed rhythmically. Michael pulled you to a scorching kiss full of tongue and teeth, leaving your movements sloppy, but constant, almost frantic, your moans and whining became higher and higher, your velvety walls squeezing his thick axis more and more.

"So fucking good," he moaned against your mouth and leaned his feet on the bed, holding your buttocks and hitting his hips against yours.

“Fuck-“ you almost screamed, resting your head against his chest when he started pushing quickly into your hot pussy, creating lascivious sounds that echoed all over the room.

“You're squeezing me so fucking hard - you're close, aren't you?” He asked, almost breathless.

“Y-yes,” your eyes closed when the family tingling intensified and your juices lubricated it even more.

"Come for me baby," he grunted when your folds pulsed around him, "cum in my fucking cock."

Shit.

Your orgasm hit you hard; hot and sudden as lightning, making your body tremble and a flash blind your vision as the air disappeared from your lungs and your mind went blank.

"Fuck," you heard him moan far away, feeling his cock pulsate and the squeeze on your ass increase when his erratic movements stopped, leaving only a few slow pushes on your sensitive pussy.

You melted completely when the orgasmic euphoria spared, coming out of it unwillingly so as not to deprive you of the air and stabilize your own breathing. Your mind was tired although very aware of the fact that you had just fucked your professor.

You can't fucking believe it.

Fucking finally.

"Are you okay?" He asked, all red and sweaty as he looked at you with crooked glasses.

“Absofuckinglutely,” you looked at him tired, panting, attracted by how cozy he looked. “And you?”

He smiled softly, pushing away some strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, fingering your face with his thumb. “I'm fucking great.”

Michael pulled you to rest on his chest when a comfortable mist hovered between you as you recovered. None of you said anything for the next few minutes, just enjoying the calm silence before reality starts to come back. You fucked your professor.

You fucked your professor.

What did you have in your head?

You tried to convince yourself that nothing would change after that, that your relationship would not be affected, but you were not sure of that

Just this time.

═════════════════════

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191 notes · View notes

itsmealaiah · 4 months

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Hi! First of all I love your writing like they’re the best!

I wanna request like where the female reader starts noticing she gets stretch marks on her legs and 2007-2008 era Tom comforts the reader and it’s like fluff and then can u please turn it into smut I really wanna read a story like that I’ve never read one like this!

(Only if ur comfortable love you ❤️💗)

You're still beautiful my dear

tags/ warnings: body dysmorphia, tom comforting you, smut, tom showing and telling you how absolutely stunning you are, p in v, fingering, head , cursing, usual smut features, mentions of starving yourself

a/n: i hope this does you justice! and for anyone who has been struggling with this, or is struggling with this, I guarantee you that you are stunning, or handsome, and that you couldn't be any better. You are YOU, and that is perfect enough. I did background research on this, and I promise you that you are loved, that someone, or multiple, care about you and your well-being. you are not alone.

MDNI ⚠️

Your POV:

Standing in front of my mirror, I was getting more and more uncomfortable with these marks cursing my legs. They hadn't been there before, but I noticed them a week ago, and began to hate myself for them a little more each time I looked at them, the ugly scars on my legs. I hadn't told tom yet, too scared. I just hid them, and tried to act the best I could in front of him and the band, not wanting to worry them on top of their rehearsals, tours, concerts, recordings, and countless nights of little to no sleep. I had been seeing myself differently ever since, and I didn't like that at all. My body looked horrid, and I tried to hide myself from the paparazzi's flash cameras every left and right.

They always commented on my body, telling me how I wasn't good enough for tom, and finding these made me feel even worse. I nearly broke down into tears every night, trying to tell myself that I was me, that I was good enough, that those shitty photographers didn't mean shit, they were nobodies, but each time, the thoughts spinning through my mind in what seemed like a whirlwind of fucking negative ass train of thoughts kept coming back. The tears began to cloud my already hazy vision, streaming down my cheeks in a very short amount of time, my sobs echoing throughout the room so loud, I was scared tom would hear.

I didn't want him to hear, I wasn't worth the trouble. I caused enough fucking problems for him, so I just made my way to our bed, surrounding myself in the covers, continuing to cry, trying to be more quiet now. These goddamn stretch marks were going to kill me, whether that be mentally or physically. They shouldn't matter this much to me, but I let them matter that much. I let myself get this fucking way, hell I made myself this way, I thought, over and over and over again, so much it fueled my tears, letting out horrid sobs each time.

I knew tom would hear, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. I couldn't stop, and that scared me. It scared me so bad I couldn't move or breath. Before I knew it, tom was rushing in, hearing my cries, practically tripping as he ran over to the bed, getting in and holding me in his arms as I sobbed more, whispering small little things, trying to help me, but it wasn't working. His arms were rocking me back and forth, trying his very best to help me. My tears couldn't stop, I didn't let them. I was weak, weak as hell, not being able to stop, my head told me so many times, as I soaked his shirt with my heavy tears.

"Baby what's wrong?" He asked finally, pulling me back so he could see my face. I probably looked like shit, my face most likely puffy, reddened, and just overall terrible. I couldn't bring myself to answer. "Love, I can't help you if you don't tell me" He said, concerned for me. I looked up into his eyes, seeing pure fear and sadness in them while he gazed at me, my heart almost breaking once again. "I look awful" I sobbed, and his eyes widened, holding me even tighter. "Who the fuck told you that?" He demanded, now angered by my statement. "Everyone" I choked, trying to hold my tears back, even as my face was soaked just like his shirt, and I blamed myself.

"What?" His voice cracked, his anger quickly fading. "nonono aw schatzi, please, you're the most beautiful fucking girl i've ever laid my eyes on, you mean the world to me." He attempted to reassure me, but it failed. "The paparazzi, the tabloids, the fans, everyone, including me" I cried. "and my legs, arms, waist, torso, and chest all look like fucking pieces of ass" I said trembling in his arms. "You don't really think that of yourself, do you?" He said shakingly, trying to look into my eyes, to tell himself I was joking, and I wish I could. 'shameful, you should eat less, look at your stomach, so fat, so unhealthy' my head was making me so angry, that I was ready to start screaming, screaming so loud I may break glass.

"I have stretch marks, I look so ugly" I sobbed again, pointing to my legs, once perfect, but now hideous. He glanced down, trying to make them out. "I don't see any?" He asked curiously, eyes squinting and looking all over to find them. "They're all over the top of my legs" I pointed again, closer this time, trying my best to get him to acknowledge them. I don't know why I was so desperate to get him to see the shitty stains covering my legs, but I guess it was because I wanted him to see my pain, my agony. "Love, I don't know what the fuck those photographers and news reporters say about you, but I do know that I love you, and I love the way your body looks"

I sniffled, looking at him finally. "Really?" I gasped out, my tears slowing down. He nodded "yes love, you are the most fucking beautiful woman i've ever seen, your curves, your face, your eyes, your legs, your arms, your chest, all crafted by god himself. I couldn't find a woman better for me even if I tried" He told me, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I still wasn't quite convinced, some tears slipping and running down my face. He sighed, laying me down on the bed so my back was against the mattress, and my eyes widened. "Not tonight, please" I whined, but he shut me down. "Let me show you how absolutely stunning you are my dear, how perfect your body looks" He whispered, his lips beginning to work at my neck, and I moaned. "You're so beautiful schatzi, everything about you is, your marks just show how you've grown my dear" He stated, tearing my top off, revealing my lacy bra, barely covering my breasts. "These" he squeezed them gently, "are so pretty, they are always ready for me" he unclasped my bra, lips leaving my neck. His tongue lapped at them, sucking on the bud harshly.

His tongue swirled, his other hand kneading the other, small, delicate moans leaving my mouth as he continued to pleasure me. "So hot my love, all for me, only me." he murmured against my skin. "how could you not think you're gorgeous?" he questioned, eyes half open, kissing my nipples gently. My hands were clutching the sheets, holding onto them for dear life as his tongue worked wonders, soothing me. "so, so pretty" he groaned, kissing down my chest, teeth scraping across my underwear, teasing me. His thumbs hooked on the sides, slowly dragging it down, revealing my wet, hot slit to him. "this, this is the most beautiful pussy i've ever seen, and you deny that you are again, stunning? You take all that I give you, like the strong woman you are. I don't know any other woman i've fucked in the past couple of years who could do what you do, let alone do it better" He whispered, tongue drilling into my hole, making me cry out, my hands clinging to his hair, pulling on the braids, and he groaned yet again. "ngh..see, only you can make me feel that good, you and your beautiful body" he stated again while my eyes were rolling to the back of my head, his fingers began to form small circles on my clit near his tongue, and I gasped, my hips bucking up near his mouth while he pleasured me further, my moans growing louder, and my gasps getting shorter.

"That's it beautiful, such a pretty girl" he gazed up at me, seeing my fucked out face, how my features were contorted in pleasure. "Doing s'good for me my love, taking my tongue so well" he praised, while my body was convulsing under his touch. "Ah!" I cried out, my orgasm washing over me, my thighs shaking when I came, tom licking up all my juices, praising me over and over as he lapped up everything, and lifted his head. I grunted, my hips and thighs still shaking. "you looked so pretty love" he tore his pants off, along with his shirt, showing his defined and toned chest. He went straight for my clit, rubbing the tip of his cock against it, creating friction as I groaned. "your little noises are so beautiful love" he grunted, as he thrust himself in, bottoming out within seconds. I gasped, and he signaled that as a 'don't tease' and began to pound in and out of my body, making the bed shake with each thrust. I kept moaning as my small frame was rocked back and forth, my hair disheveled as I took his dick, trying to hold myself together, but that was impossible, as his length felt so, so good sliding in and out, combined with my slick juices, our skin slapping together. Every noise I could ever make escaped my throat, filling the room as our passion continued. "Fuck, you feel so good, who's sweet little pussy is this?" He asked, demandingly, stopping for a quick second so I could answer. "yours" I let out, a moan making its way from my mouth, and he smiled. "Good girl" he had an evil smirk across his sweat-dampened face, and he began to thrust again.

"S-slow down! Please!" I begged, trying to stop him, the assault on my feeble body. He shook his head, pinning me down. "Not until you realize you motherfucking beautiful you are" He growled, drilling deeper into me like a piston, hitting the spot that made my legs go weak each time, causing trembly sobs to escape my lips. He didn't ease up, and the knot in my stomach was beginning to form again. Tom must have felt it too, because he spoke up, his thrusts slowing just by a tiny bit. "You aren't cumming until you say how beautiful you are" He demanded, his length just sitting in me. I moaned in frustration, and finally gave in. "fine, i'm beautiful" I could barely form the words, and I didn't really want to say them to begin with. "Not good enough, I want you to shout it while I make you feel good" He grinned, resuming his thrusts, and I screamed, my eyes reeling in the pleasure. "Say it, now" he growled again, pistoning himself, so rough my body fell weak under him. "Im beautiful!" I screeched as I came, my thighs wrapping around his waist, holding him against me tightly. "Good fucking girl" He panted, his release taking him seconds later, his hips snapping against mine. "You think you're gorgeous now, or do I have to fuck you again?" He asked, kissing me roughly.

I shook my head, my eyelids starting to shut and open back up within short spurts. "Thank you tom" I sighed, leaning into his neck once he collapsed onto me, burying my body into the mattress deeply. "You're welcome baby, never do that to yourself again, please" He pleaded, wrapping his arms around me, never daring to let me go. He pulled out, his cum slipping out, and he leaned over to the bedside stand, grabbing some tissues, and cleaning me off, murmuring small whispers of praise, sweet words leaving his mouth. He got up and threw the dirty tissues away, settling into the bed, taking me into his embrace. "You okay? You're still a little shaky liebe" He asked, obviously concerned. I nodded, and gave him a small kiss on his lips before falling asleep, content, knowing when these little episodes came, he would be there for me, ready to help in any way possible.

A/n: I know I mentioned this yesterday, but @madzandmore received a very similar request to this, so again, please please PLEASE, stop requesting the same ideas

#tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz #itsmealaiah #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you

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forthegothicheroine · 1 year

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Do you have any gothic novels that you can recommend off the top of your head? Especially to people who want to try their hand at the genre? I've hit a wall in my project and I need to get some fresh inspiration, but I don't know where to start and the book side of tumblr failed me the last time I tried asking them for recs

Hell yeah! I made some old posts for this a while back, but it's good to look at it again with my more recent taste! Let's see...

Classic Gothics

Dracula: The one, the only. Often imitated, never equalled.

Frankenstein: Short, sad and world changing! Can get a little slow at parts, but definitely worth it. (True story, my parents read this to me as a fetus to calm my kicking, so it's part of my personal mythology!)

The Case of Charles Dexter Ward: The most gothic of Lovecraft's work, and possibly my favorite. Novella length, usually found in collections.

The Picture of Dorian Gray: Sinister, sexy, philosophical, with a main character I want to punch in the face!

Carmilla: Another novella, about as lush and swooning as vampire stories get.

The Hound of the Baskervilles: A very readable gothic mystery.

Confessions of a Justified Sinner: This one isn't as action packed, but if you have big religious issues like me, it's incredibly haunting.

The Monk: Like the above, but sleazier and crazier!

Northanger Abbey: A gentle parody of early gothics, starring an adorable proto-goth girl.

The Italian: I'll be honest, I find Anne Radcliffe kind of a slog, but if you liked Northanger Abbey and want to read what Catherine Morland reads, this is probably the most accessible.

A Long Fatal Love Chase: This starts as campy and then takes a plunge into gut-wrenchingly intense. The book Jo March was always trying to write!

The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: Another novella, and Stevenson is one of the best writers out there for excitement!

The Werewolf of Paris: Gothic monster as serial killer, still scary today.

Rebecca: The foundation of all gothic romance to come afterwards. A ghost story without a ghost, with an ending that's still debated as happy or sad!

Jane Eyre: The other foundation of all gothic romance to come afterwards. I bounced off the child abuse-heavy beginning a few times, but I'm very glad I finally read to the good stuff!

The Castle of Otranto: Considered the first gothic novel, a goofy b-movie in written form.

Modern-ish Gothics (post-1950 or so)

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein: Fuck the haters, I love this book.

Mexican Gothic: Genuinely scary, genuinely romantic, genuinely creative. A favorite.

Blackwater: A southern gothic saga of a family in a flooded town, whose scion marries a woman who isn't quite human. A whirlwind ride!

A Bloodsmoor Romance: Another family saga, this one northern gothic, with sisters whose lives all go off the rails in different supernatural ways. Give this a try before writing Joyce Carol Oates off entirely!

The Silver Devil: A nasty, problematic bodice ripper where you'll cheer for the heroine to bring the hero down low!

Interview with the Vampire: To be honest again, I'm not super into Anne Rice, but this is a page-turner, and every vampire book that has come after it has had to respond to it in one way or another. Read the next two Vampire Chronicles books if you like it!

A Taste of Blood Wine: My own preferred sexy vampire romance!

The Bloody Chamber: The ultimate dark sexy fairy tale work, accept no substitutes.

Haunted Castles: Contains the brilliant novella Sardonicus, as well as some other campy gothic stories!

A Great and Terrible Beauty: Many millennials were introduced to the gothic genre via this, Fear Street Sagas, or A Series of Unfortunate Events. This is my favorite of the three, though the sequels are a bit of a letdown.

Gormenghast: This series is a throwback to the pseudo-medieval, Otranto-style gothic, but much better. Don't read Titus Alone.

#books #gothic literature

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muiitoloko · 24 days

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Hello 😁 firstly thank you for your stories that heal my poor soul these day. Secondly, are you thinking of writing more about Lionel for the serie Trust ? Maybe his wife could really try to get rid off of her jealousy with a professional and him being supportive to her but also… staying him 🥵😅

Title: Time to change.

Summary: You realize it's time for a change.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Author's Notes: Hey there, thanks a bunch for dropping by with your request! It's always a blast knowing you're enjoying the stories. And hey, your comments? They're like the cherry on top of my writing sundae—I love 'em! Keep 'em coming!

First, Second and Third part here

After breakfast, while Lionel retreated to his office to handle the urgent matter with his assistant, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, facing the aftermath of your meal. As you washed the dishes and tidied up, a sense of frustration crept over you. It wasn't fair that you were left to clean up the mess while Lionel attended to his business, as usual.

You tried to push aside your irritation, reminding yourself of the wonderful night you had shared with Lionel. Despite your frustrations, you knew that focusing on the positive was important, especially when it came to your relationship with him.

As you continued to work, you couldn't help but reflect on Lionel's upbringing in luxury. Growing up with servants to cater to his every need, it was clear that he was accustomed to a life of privilege and ease. You couldn't fault him entirely for his attitude towards household chores, but it still irked you that he often left such tasks to others.

When Lionel returned from his call, he smiled at you and suggested that you leave the rest of the cleaning for the waiters to take care of later. But you couldn't simply ignore the mess, even if Lionel insisted. It wasn't in your nature to shirk responsibility, especially when it came to maintaining your home.

Ignoring his words, you continued to put away the dishes, determined to see the task through to the end. Despite your frustration, you couldn't help but admire Lionel's charm and charisma as he watched you work, his baritone voice filled with warmth and affection.

"Come now, my dear," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "You've done enough for today. Let the staff handle the rest. You deserve to rest and relax after our wonderful night together."

You shook your head, smiling at his attempt to convince you to stop. "I appreciate the sentiment, Lionel, but I prefer to finish what I've started," you replied, your voice firm but gentle. "Besides, it won't take me long to tidy up. I'll be done before you know it."

Lionel sighed, knowing that arguing with you would be futile. He admired your dedication and determination, even if it meant you were sometimes stubborn to a fault. With a resigned smile, he relented, knowing that you wouldn't be satisfied until the task was complete.

As you diligently continued to tidy up the kitchen, Lionel observed you with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew you were a woman of strong principles and a fierce sense of responsibility, but he also worried that you might be pushing yourself too hard.

"Darling," Lionel began, his baritone voice cutting through the air with authority, "I need to talk to you."

You paused in your task, turning to face him with a curious expression. "Of course, Lionel," you replied, your tone soft and attentive. "I'm listening."

Lionel hesitated for a moment, his piercing gaze fixed on yours as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, with his characteristic directness, he spoke up. "I want to talk about sex," he stated bluntly, his words hanging in the air between you.

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden topic of conversation. But you composed yourself quickly, realizing that this was a conversation that needed to be had. "Go on," you encouraged him, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

Last night had been nothing short of magical, a passionate and intense reunion that had left you both breathless and sated. But you also knew that it had been a long time since you and Lionel had shared such intimacy, and his desire for more frequent encounters didn't come as a complete surprise.

He continued, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and determination as he talked earnestly about a sex routine. You couldn't help but feel a wave of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, you understood his desire for intimacy and connection, especially after the passionate night you shared. But on the other hand, the idea of a strict sex routine seemed daunting and unrealistic.

You looked at Lionel, your expression a mix of surprise and disbelief, as he proposed his idea of a sex routine. "Sex routine?" you repeated incredulously, raising an eyebrow at him.

Lionel nodded solemnly, his hooked nose twitching with anticipation. "Yes, my dear," he affirmed, his baritone voice smooth and confident. "A sex routine. I want us to make love every day, without fail. Once in the morning before I go to work, again at night before bed, and perhaps even at lunchtime when I come home for lunch. That would be three times a day, every day."

You couldn't help but laugh at the audacity of his proposal, shaking your head in disbelief. "Lionel, you're joking, right?" you chuckled, your voice laced with amusement. "No one can keep up with that kind of schedule. It's just not feasible."

But Lionel was serious, his expression firm and unwavering as he met your gaze. "I assure you, my dear, I am more than capable of such a feat," he declared confidently. "And besides, don't you remember how passionate and insatiable we were when we were first together? I long for that kind of connection with you again."

You couldn't deny the truth in his words, recalling the fiery passion and intense desire that had characterized the early days of your relationship. But things had changed since then, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of losing that spark.

As you finished drying the last of the cutlery, you set it aside and turned to face Lionel, his piercing gaze locking with yours. "I understand, Lionel," you began, your voice soft and earnest. "I want that connection with you too, more than anything. But the truth is, I don't know what's happened to my sexual appetite. It's like my mind is clouded, and I just don't feel the same level of desire as before."

Lionel's expression softened at your confession, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding. He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. "My dear lioness," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I understand your concerns, I truly do. But I believe that together, we can overcome any obstacles that stand in our way. We just need to find a way to reignite the passion between us."

You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of comfort and warmth wash over you. Despite your doubts and insecurities, Lionel's unwavering love and devotion gave you hope for the future. With him by your side, you knew that anything was possible.

As you looked into his eyes, you made a silent vow to work through your issues together, to find a way to reclaim the passion and intimacy that had once defined your relationship. And with Lionel's support and guidance, you knew that you could overcome any challenges that lay ahead.

As the day unfolded, you and Lionel found yourselves navigating the delicate balance between his desires and your own. Normally, you would be bustling about, attending to the needs of the household and the employees, but with Lionel at home, you chose to spend the day together.

At first, Lionel's intentions were clear – he wanted to indulge in the physical connection that had ignited between you two the night before. However, you had other plans in mind. Despite his longing gaze and suggestive whispers, you insisted on spending quality time together in a different way.

You suggested watching a movie together, hoping to enjoy a quiet moment of intimacy without the need for physicality. Lionel reluctantly agreed, and you both settled into bed to watch "Sense and Sensibility."

However, it quickly became apparent that Lionel's attention was elsewhere. While you were engrossed in the film, he seemed restless, checking his iPad and perusing the news. You couldn't help but feel hurt by his lack of interest, but you kept your feelings to yourself, not wanting to spoil the moment.

As the movie played on, you couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that lingered in the air. Despite your efforts to enjoy a quiet moment together, it seemed that Lionel's attention was elsewhere. You stole glances at him from the corner of your eye, noticing how he fidgeted with his iPad, seemingly unable to focus on the film.

Finally, with a sigh of frustration, Lionel set the iPad aside, his expression one of annoyance as he turned his attention to you. His eyes roamed over your features, his gaze filled with longing and desire as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your neck in a series of gentle kisses.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that had lain dormant within you. Despite your earlier reservations, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull of his touch, the way his fingers traced patterns of fire across your skin.

"Darling," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he nuzzled against your skin, "why waste our time with this silly movie when we could be enjoying each other's company in a much more... intimate manner?"

But as Lionel's lips trailed lower, his hands roaming freely over your body, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was something holding you back, a lingering sense of doubt and uncertainty that clouded your mind.

"Lionel," you began, your voice soft and hesitant, "I appreciate your desire, truly, but I just don't feel ready yet. Last night was... incredible, but I need some time to process everything that's happened."

Lionel's expression softened at your words, his eyes filled with understanding and empathy. He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring as he met your gaze with unwavering love and devotion.

"My dear lioness," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "I understand. I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for. Our connection is important to me, but so is your comfort and well-being."

You sighed in relief, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at Lionel's understanding and support. Despite your earlier doubts, you knew that he was truly committed to your happiness and satisfaction, both in and out of the bedroom.

With a grateful smile, you leaned into his touch, basking in the warmth of his embrace as you silently reaffirmed your love and devotion to each other. And you knew that Lionel deserved the same dedication he gave to you; he deserved the same care and love. And you realized it was time for a change.

As you woke up the next morning, feeling the warmth of the sun filtering through the curtains, you couldn't resist the urge to wake up your beloved husband, Lionel. Leaning over him, you placed gentle kisses on his neck, trying to coax him out of his slumber.

"Mmm... What time is it?" Lionel mumbled, his voice husky with sleep as he stirred.

"It's 6 am, my king," you replied softly, your lips brushing against his skin.

Lionel turned slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "It's still too early. I don't have to work until 8:30," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

You gently caressed his arm, a mischievous glint in your eye. "I know, my love, but I was thinking... about our routine," you said, your voice trailing off slightly.

His curiosity piqued, Lionel opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours. "Routine? What routine are you talking about?" he asked, his tone tinged with confusion.

You sighed softly, rolling your eyes playfully. "The sex routine, Lionel," you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Lionel's eyes widened in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "Oh... I see," he said, his voice trailing off slightly as he processed your words.

Lionel sits up, his expression a mix of surprise and delight as he processes your words. "You... want it?" he asks, his baritone voice tinged with disbelief.

You nod eagerly, a smile spreading across your face. "Yes, Lionel, I want it," you reply, your voice filled with longing. "I want to reignite the passion between us, to reconnect on a deeper level."

Before you can finish your sentence, Lionel interrupts you, pulling you into a passionate kiss that leaves you breathless. As he wraps his arms around you, you melt into his embrace, feeling a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

"Then it's settled," Lionel whispers against your lips, his voice husky with desire. "From now on, we'll make love every day, without fail. And if there ever comes a day when I don't want it, you have my permission to buy a gun and shoot me."

You can't help but giggle at his dramatic declaration, the sound muffled by his lips as he kisses you again. Wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, you allow yourself to be pulled into his lap, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

As you sink into the embrace of your beloved lion, you know that your relationship has entered a new chapter, one filled with passion, desire, and unwavering devotion. And as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, you can't help but feel grateful for the love that binds you together, stronger than ever before.

As the morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom, you found yourself wrapped in the arms of your beloved husband, Lionel. His deep, baritone voice resonated in the air as he pulled you closer, his hooked nose nuzzling against your neck in a gesture of affection.

"Mmm... my beautiful lioness," Lionel murmured, his voice thick with desire as he trailed kisses along your collarbone. "You've awakened the beast within me."

You couldn't help but giggle at his playful words, feeling a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. With a playful glint in your eye, you reached out to caress his cheek, relishing the feel of his stubble against your fingertips.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm here to tame that beast, isn't it?" you teased, your voice dripping with seduction as you leaned in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

Lionel responded eagerly, his hands roaming freely over your body as he deepened the kiss with a hunger that left you breathless. His touch ignited a fire within you, a primal need that demanded to be sated.

With a low growl of desire, Lionel rolled you onto your back, pinning you beneath him with a dominance that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze burned with intensity as he gazed down at you, his hooked nose twitching with anticipation.

"You are mine, my lioness," Lionel declared, his voice thick with possessiveness as he claimed you as his own. "Mine to pleasure, mine to adore, mine to worship."

You moaned in response, arching into his touch as he trailed kisses down your neck, his lips leaving a fiery trail of need in their wake. With each tantalizing touch, he stoked the flames of desire, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

As Lionel's hands roamed lower, slipping beneath the hem of your nightgown to caress your heated skin, you gasped in pleasure, your body arching against his in a silent plea for more.

"Please, Lionel," you whimpered, your voice husky with desire. "I need you... now."

With a primal growl of satisfaction, Lionel complied, his movements becoming more urgent as he sought to fulfill your every need. With one swift motion, he rid himself of his boxers, revealing his throbbing arousal to your hungry gaze.

You couldn't help but marvel at the sight of him, so powerful and commanding, yet so utterly devoted to your pleasure. With a longing glance, you reached out to touch him, your fingers trailing along his length with a reverence that left him gasping for breath.

As Lionel nodded in agreement, a sly grin played across his lips, his eyes smoldering with desire as he helped you remove your nightgown, his touch sending shivers down your spine. With practiced ease, he hooked his fingers into your panties, pulling them down slowly, revealing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze.

With a low growl of satisfaction, Lionel tossed your panties aside, his gaze fixated on your exposed sex. Positioning himself between your legs, he leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in a husky voice, "Hello there, my sweet little kitten. Daddy's missed you. Have you been thinking about me?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his playful antics, knowing full well that Lionel had a penchant for being cheeky. Despite your best efforts to maintain a serious demeanor, a giggle escaped your lips as you replied, "Oh, please, Lionel. You're being ridiculous."

But Lionel was undeterred, his confidence unwavering as he continued to tease and tantalize you with his words. "Ridiculous, am I?" he purred, his voice dripping with seduction. "I'll have you know, my dear lioness, that I intend to make you purr like never before."

With that, Lionel lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to taste your slick folds with a hunger that left you breathless. As he delved deeper, exploring every inch of your dripping sex, you couldn't help but moan in ecstasy, your fingers tangling in his thick, mane-like hair as you surrendered to the pleasure he so expertly bestowed upon you.

With each teasing lick and flick of his tongue, Lionel brought you closer and closer to the edge, his own arousal evident in the way his cock throbbed against your thigh. And just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he plunged two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that perfect spot that sent you spiraling over the edge in a mind-shattering orgasm.

As waves of pleasure washed over you, you cried out Lionel's name, your voice echoing through the room as you clung to him desperately, your body trembling with the force of your release. And through it all, Lionel remained steadfast, his devotion unwavering as he worshipped you with every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of love.

As you pulled Lionel up, a mischievous glint in your eye, you could sense the anticipation building between you. Lionel grunted slightly in pain as you tugged lightly on his hair, but he didn't protest, instead allowing himself to be guided by your playful yet determined demeanor. With a gentle push, you urged him onto his back, watching with satisfaction as he complied, his expression one of eager anticipation.

Straddling his waist, you hovered over him, feeling the heat of his body radiating beneath you. Lionel met your gaze with unwavering intensity, his eyes dark with desire as he waited for you to make your move. With a sweet smile, you leaned in to share a tender kiss, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips as you lost yourself in the moment.

But soon, the sweet tenderness gave way to a more primal need, a hunger that demanded to be sated. Without hesitation, you reached down to grasp Lionel's thick cock, feeling it pulse with anticipation in your hand. With slow, deliberate movements, you positioned yourself above him, guiding him to your dripping entrance.

As you impaled yourself on his length, a low moan escaped your lips, the sensation of being filled by him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Lionel groaned in response, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he allowed you to take control, his own desire evident in the way his cock throbbed within you.

Curious about your sudden change in demeanor, Lionel couldn't help but question your motives, though his cheeky demeanor had faded in the face of your overwhelming passion. "What's gotten into you today, my lioness?" he asked, his voice thick with desire as you sank down on his cock, taking him deep inside you.

But you were too lost in the feeling of him stretching you to respond immediately, the sensation overwhelming your senses as you surrendered to the pleasure of being filled by him. Locking eyes with Lionel, you squeezed his hands tightly, intertwining your fingers with his as you found your rhythm, riding him with a fierce determination that left both of you gasping for breath.

Finally, as you reached the peak of ecstasy, you managed to find your voice, your words coming out in breathless gasps between moans of pleasure. "I... I decided it was time for a change," you admitted, your voice filled with raw emotion as you bounced on his cock, your breasts bouncing enticingly with each movement. "We both deserve better, Lionel. So I've decided to go to therapy, to work through my jealousy and insecurities. And I want us to be better, together."

With each thrust, you poured your heart and soul into your confession, laying bare your vulnerabilities in the most intimate of moments. And as Lionel listened, his expression softened, his love and devotion shining through as he held you close, his cock throbbing inside you with a fervor that matched your own.

Together, you rode the waves of pleasure, lost in the heat of the moment as you reaffirmed your commitment to each other. And as you reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, your cries of passion echoed through the room, a testament to the deep connection that bound you together, stronger than ever before.

#lionel shabandar x reader #lionel shabandar #alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #gambit 2012

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aflame4goinghome · 3 months

Text

Illicit Affairs

d.r.w x reader

chapter iii

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!! swearing, flirting, some fluff, jealousy, power dynamic; SMUT: fingering, touching, sexually implicit language, dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, choking, spanking, degradation, praise kink, orgasm denial, edging if you squint, biting, possessiveness, hint of dom/sub dynamic

A/N: This story is in collaboration with my wonderful, talented friends @gretavanstink & @childinthegardenn!! Go give them a follow and give @gretavanstink’s fics some love! Thanks for reading! We’re so glad you like the story so far :) Enjoy!

Listen to the official playlist on Spotify here!

chapter ii

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

The last couple of weeks have been a total whirlwind for you. Between keeping up with your other classes and meeting up with Daniel whenever you could, you’ve been keeping yourself very busy. Before you know it, it’s time to turn in your first paper for your art history class. Luckily for you, despite the distractions, you were able to dedicate a good amount of time to it.

Considering your personal interest in Ancient Greek history and Greek mythology, you wrote your paper about Ancient Greek paintings and statues and their significance to the culture at the time. Greek mythology always fascinated you, so you thought it would be beneficial to bring your interests into your coursework to make it more personal to you. You hoped that this would come out in your favor.

Today’s the day that you have to turn the paper in at the start of class. Daniel asked you all to print out your papers and turn them in physically, which you find to be a bit old-fashioned, but whatever. After your philosophy class ends, you head to the library to print out your paper. You walk in and stop at a desk by the printers to pull out your laptop and send the document over.

After sending your paper to the printer, you collect your things and go wait for it to finish. Someone else is printing something before you, so you have to wait for theirs to finish printing first. After getting a closer look, you realize that you recognize him from your art history class. He looks up from the other side of the printer and meets your gaze when he notices you looking at him.

“Hey,” he says, giving you a shy smile. “You’re in Wagner’s class, right? Are you here to print your paper?” You walk toward him, not wanting to speak too loudly in the semi-quiet library.

“Yeah, I am,” you answer with a nod. He gathers the rest of his papers, taking the stapler from the table next to you and stapling them together.

“My name’s Stephen. I don’t think we’ve met before. I have a bad habit of always running late, so I usually sit in the back,” he says, reaching his hand out to shake yours with a chuckle. You smile at him, shaking his hand and laughing with him. “Y/N.”

“What did you think of the paper, Y/N? It took me forever to write, I was so not expecting him to give us an eight-page minimum. He’s tough,” he says. You struggle to stifle the laugh that threatens to come out of you at that moment. Tough… Stephen, you have no idea. Your papers start spitting out of the printer, so you turn your focus to the printer to avoid his gaze.

“Oh, it wasn’t too bad for me. I’m a philosophy major, so an eight-page paper is a cakewalk compared to most of my assignments. I think I ended up writing ten pages, actually,” you answer, smiling to yourself as you gather your papers and turn to staple them. A smirk grows across his face as he leans his back against the table, crossing his arms.

“Wow, looks like we’ve got a genius on our hands. I’ll have to keep you around, Y/N,” he jokes. You smile and look up at him for a second, finally getting a good look at him. He certainly wasn’t bad to look at, that’s for sure. His perfect white teeth show confidently as he smiles at you, which you have to admit is rather charming.

He’s tall, at least six feet, with wavy, dirty-blond hair that he swoops to one side. He looks like he’s probably in a frat, or maybe plays a sport like lacrosse or rugby. You’re actually pretty surprised he approached you at all, since you don’t really scream “I want to talk to her” vibes with your earbuds in and typically cold demeanor– but you can’t help it that you have a resting bitch face. Despite his motives, you don’t hate having someone to talk to.

“Wanna walk over together?” he asks, slinging his backpack on. You nod, gathering your things and then following Stephen out of the library toward the building that your lecture hall is in. You suppose it doesn’t hurt to make a friend in the class, especially with exams coming up soon. You usually tend to keep to yourself in class, so it’s a nice change. You’re not sure how Daniel will react, though, but you don’t care. He doesn’t get a say in who you hang out with anyway.

Stephen opens the classroom door and you walk inside, heading down to your unassigned-assigned seat in the third row from the front. Much to your surprise, Stephen follows you, sitting in the seat next to you.

“Maybe if I stick by you, I’ll understand the lessons better,” he says with a laugh, taking out his laptop and placing it on his desk. You smile shyly at him, then turn away to dig through your bag to find a pen and then take out your notebook.

As you look back up from your backpack, you find Daniel’s eyes piercing through you. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he looks from you to Stephen sitting next to you and then crosses his arms on his desk. You roll your eyes at him, not in the mood for whatever he might have to say about your new friend. You didn’t care enough to bother with his dramatics. He then stands up and clears his throat before addressing the class.

“Good morning. You can all come up and place your first paper in a pile at the front of my desk, and then we can get started with the lecture,” he says, leaning his back against the chalkboard with his arms crossed. Everyone gets up and turns in their assignments, then takes their seats again.

Daniel starts his lecture, today’s being about the Hellenistic period, which is primarily what your paper was about. You knew you’d be able to impress him with your knowledge of the subject, which was perfect to scratch your itch for academic praise for the day.

“So,” he starts, using his remote to switch to his first slide. “What’s the significance of Venus de Milo?” A smile sneaks across your face as your hand shoots up to answer his question. His eyes fall to you and you see his lips turn upward slightly into a smirk. “Y/N?”

“Venus de Milo is one of the most well–known Hellenistic statues and its origin still remains to be a bit of a mystery. Considering it’s a statue of Aphrodite, it represents beauty incarnate. She’s the physical representation of beauty to the Ancient Greeks, so constructing statues of her was often motivated by hopes to gain her favor.” Daniel walks over to the first step, leaning against a chair in the front row as he crosses his arms and listens to you talk. As you watch him lick his lip subtly, you can tell that he’s enjoying it, which gives you even more of a reason to continue.

“It’s also speculated that the statue originally depicted her holding what could have been the Apple of Discord. In the myths, the apple was said to be engraved with the message ‘for the most beautiful,’ which led to it starting a vanity-fueled dispute amongst a handful of the goddesses, Aphrodite included. The possibility of Venus de Milo having been meant to represent Aphrodite’s vanity as well as her beauty is a fascinating piece of the puzzle, while not being entirely confirmed, though there are some recent discoveries that can support the theory.”

You take a deep breath after having just rambled on, definitely answering much more than you needed to. Daniel smiles as he turns to walk back to the front of the class and switches to the next slide, which shows his own notes on the statue. “Thank you, Y/N. If you keep it up, you might end up teaching this course instead of me,” he says with a chuckle, the rest of the class laughing to themselves as well. Your cheeks flush as you look down at your notebook, writing down what he has written on the slide.

“I knew I stuck around for a reason,” Stephen whispers next to you with a grin. You smile at him, then turn back to take your notes throughout the rest of the class. The rest of the lecture goes by quickly and you raise your hand a few more times to add your input to the discussion, which you can tell gets Daniel’s attention.

“Okay, that’s all I’ve got for you today. I’ll hand back your graded papers Friday morning. You can come and see me during my office hours after that if you have any questions or concerns. You’re dismissed,” he says, sitting down at his desk. You have some homework to work on, so you say goodbye to Stephen quickly before heading to the library to study for a while.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

On Friday, you walk into class and take your usual seat, waiting for the lecture to begin. You look up as Stephen comes to sit next to you again, surprisingly showing up to class on time, just like he did on Wednesday. Interesting.

Not long after, you hear the clack of Daniel’s heels as he walks down the stairs toward the front of the room. You watch closely as he takes out a large stack of papers from his large accordion folder and places them on the front of the desk.

“Hello, everyone. Your first papers are graded, you can pick them up at the end of class on your way out. If you have any questions, please feel free to come up to my office after class is over, in room 321,” he says as he connects his computer to the projector.

“Now, I want to touch on one more period before we take our first exam next week.” He stands up and walks to the left side of the room, leaning against the board and crossing one ankle in front of the other.

“The Italian Renaissance. Who can tell me a prominent artist from that time?” He crosses his arms and his eyes move around the room, looking for volunteers. Your hand shoots up, of course, and he sees that you’re the only one with your hand up. “Yes, Y/N?”

“Sandro Botticelli, known for The Birth of Venus,” you answer proudly.

“Yes, good choice. Anyone else?” he asks, starting to walk up the stairs on the other side of the room from you. When no one else volunteers, you raise your hand again.

“Anyone besides Y/N want to answer? Or is she the only one who did the reading assignment for today?” He raises his eyebrows at the rest of the class as your cheeks start to flush. As you hear a girl in the back start to talk about Michaelangelo, your mind starts to wander.

His specific attention toward you during class always manages to get you flustered, which you know you need to try and control. You don’t want anyone to catch on, but you can’t help the satisfying feeling you get when you impress him with your art knowledge. It’s something you know you’ll need to work on, but for now, the chase was fun.

As class ends, everyone goes up to the front of the room to get their graded papers. You’re one of the last to collect your things and grab your paper, but you finally approach his desk and find your name. A+, Great job!

You smile to yourself as you look up from the paper to Daniel, who’s still sitting at the desk. “Dr. Wagner, do you have time to talk about my paper in your office?” you ask with a cheeky smile. He looks up from his computer and looks you up and down for a moment, trying to subtly check you out but failing at the subtlety.

“Why, do you have some concerns, Miss Y/L/N?” he answers, a smirk starting to form across his lips. You turn over your shoulder to see only a handful of people still lingering in the back, and then turn back to answer him. “Yeah, something like that.”

He licks his lips and then pushes his hands off the desk to stand up and closes his laptop. He puts his things into his bag and slings it on his arm. “After you,” he says.

The two of you walk to the elevator and get in, allowing the doors to shut behind you before closing the gap between you. Daniel puts an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him as the elevator starts to rise, then places a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away, leaving only a few inches between you.

“Been waiting for this all week,” he says, kissing your cheek before he continues. “Haven’t been able to touch you like I want to. It’s been killin’ me…” He places a kiss on your jaw, then another on your neck. You lean your head back slightly as you hold his arms tightly to steady yourself.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you whisper, leaning your head against the back wall of the elevator. “I’ve just been a bit busy with my schoolwork. You should know, you’re the one who assigned it,” you say with a twinge of sarcasm. He lets out a condescending laugh against your skin then pulls back to look at you, rolling his eyes.

“More like you were busy with ‘Rocks for Brains,’” he mumbles as the elevator stops and the doors open to the third floor. He immediately exits the elevator and turns toward his office, with you trying to keep up behind him.

“Who, Stephen?” you ask, following behind him. He takes out his key and opens his office door, facing the door as he responds to you.

“I don’t care what his name is, he’s an idiot,” he answers matter-of-factly, walking toward his desk and setting his bag down on the floor next to it.

“You can’t be serious,” you say, starting to feel a bit exasperated. You close the door behind you and walk a bit further into the room. He turns to face you, crossing his arms as he leans against the front of his desk. “Whatever. This isn’t why I wanted to come up here with you.” He raises an eyebrow at you as you approach him.

“Oh yeah? And why did you want to come up here, sweetheart?” His lips turn into a smirk as he steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You know why…” you say, putting your arms around his neck to close the gap even more. “A+, huh?” He smiles as he leans down to kiss your lips, lowering you down onto the chair in front of his desk. He hovers over you, keeping his left knee planted on the edge of the chair in between your legs as he attacks your lips.

“Yes, an A+,” he mumbles against your lips, “You’re my best student.” His hand holds steady on the back of your neck as he rubs his thumb softly on the side of your neck, giving you goosebumps. “Oh, am I?” you tease, holding onto the collar of his shirt as you pull him in for another kiss.

“Of course you are…” he whispers, his other hand grazing the side of your breast, making you let out a short breath as his mouth finds yours again. You let your tongue slip into his mouth and he welcomes it, groaning against your lips as you pick up the pace, pulling him down closer to you. He allows it for a few minutes before glancing at his watch and pulling his lips away.

“As much as I’d like to keep going, I have to go teach a class in ten minutes,” he says, rubbing his thumb along your cheek and then backing away to grab his bag.

“But… if you want to wait here, I’ll be back in about an hour and a half or so,” he says, looking down at you with a sincere smile. As your lips start to turn into a pout, he walks closer, placing his fingers under your chin to make you look at him. “Don’t be like that. I’ll make it worth your while.” You sigh and nod your head disappointedly.

“Okay, fine. I’ll wait,” you mutter, taking your phone out of your back pocket and unlocking it. He plants a kiss on your cheek, then walks to exit the office, closing the door behind him.

You sit there for what feels like ages, just scrolling on your socials waiting for him to finally come back. After finally getting bored of looking at your phone, you decide to stand up and take a look around his office.

You walk over to the bookshelves on the other side of the room and start combing through the books that sit there. Many of them are books you have in your own collection at home, which doesn’t surprise you. It was clear that the two of you have very similar interests when it comes to history, and this just proves it.

Amongst his array of historical biographies, you find something that piques your interest. You take out a copy of Brave New World from the shelf and examine it, noticing its wear and tear. This book was well-loved, that much you could tell. You open it and look at the inside of the cover, finding a hand-written message on the inside.

Dear Daniel,

Congratulations on your academic success at the University of Michigan. I couldn’t be more proud to call you my grandson. You’re going to go on to do great things. Never forget where you came from.

-Grandpop

That’s sweet. You smile to yourself as you put the book back on the shelf and your eyes find the wall behind his desk, where all of his degrees rest. You decide to walk over and look closer, curiosity getting the better of you. University of Michigan, Bachelor of Arts, Art History. Fancy. This much you assumed. Next to it, though, you see a second degree: Wayne State University, Master of Arts, Education. That one you didn’t exactly expect, but his teaching skills are pretty exceptional, so it shouldn’t surprise you. Finally, on the far right: Wayne State University, Doctorate of Architecture. Woah. You didn’t even know he was teaching those types of classes too. He seems to have a lot more to him than he lets on and you feel determined to figure him out, whatever it takes.

You walk back over to the shelves, taking a closer look at his replica of Duomo di Siena. Next to it, you notice a picture frame, with a photo of Daniel, though he looks a bit younger. You pick it up off of the shelf to get a better look. It’s a picture of him taken in front of the church with a wide smile on his face.

His hair is much longer then, significantly past his shoulders, with a few blonde highlights peeking through. The light is hitting him just right– it seems like it was taken in the summer. He’s wearing a loose linen button-down and khaki shorts, with some large-rimmed sunglasses. He looks happy, really happy.

“Look at that– you are capable of following directions,” you hear Daniel’s voice behind you as he opens the door, shutting it behind him. “Snooping around, I see.” Your cheeks turn a shade of pink as you quickly put the frame back in its place on the shelf and approach him.

“I wasn’t snooping… just trying to pass the time is all,” you say, trying to look as innocent as possible to avoid any scolding on his part.

“Right,” he answers, walking closer to you and wrapping one arm around your waist. “Find anything interesting?”

“That’s a nice picture, there on the shelf. That’s in Italy, right?” you ask. He walks over to the shelf, picking the frame up and holding it in his hands. He looks down at the photo with a closed-lip smile.

“Yeah, this is in Siena. I visited it once during my year studying abroad in Florence, Siena isn’t far from there by train,” he answers, looking up at you as he puts the picture back on the shelf. It makes you happy to see him remembering the memory so fondly, it was clearly a memorable experience for him.

“Oh, that’s great! I never got around to studying abroad, but I’ve thought about it,” you say. He walks closer to you, putting his arms around your waist. “You should go, if you can. You study philosophy, right? You could go to Greece or something like that. Might be a good learning experience.”

Your expression sinks a little bit at the idea. Of course you want to study abroad and travel, but you’d never be able to afford something like that. You’re already lucky to be going to WSU on a full ride, your mom would never be able to pull off paying for a semester abroad. You don’t want to ruin the mood by telling him that, though. So you just nod and hope he changes the subject.

You stand up on your tip-toes and place a soft kiss on his lips, feeling him smile against you. “Thanks for waiting, I know you were probably bored,” he says, kissing you again and rubbing his thumb softly along your cheekbone. “Wanna get out of here?”

“God, yeah. I’m starving,” you admit, having not eaten since breakfast before your classes this morning. You pick up your bag and head toward the door, with him following after you with his things.

“There’s this place across the street I like, just some classic diner food,” you say as he presses the button for the elevator. You realize that it sounded way too much like a date, so you start to panic. “Unless you don’t want to eat together, of course. That’s totally fine too.”

He lets out a chuckle as you both step onto the elevator. “Relax. I want to eat with you,” he says, and you take a deep breath. You don’t want him to think you’re breaking any rules, but he did ask you to wait in the office for him, so it isn’t wrong to assume that he wanted to spend time together.

The two of you walk across campus and then cross the street toward the diner. As you approach the door, he opens it for you, letting you walk in ahead of him. Your cheeks flush a bit as you pass him and enter the restaurant. You weren’t used to his sweet side, but you have to admit that it’s growing on you.

“Two, please,” he says to the hostess before you even have the chance to say anything. She collects your menus and walks you over to a booth in the corner. You loved the vibes of the place– retro and bright. There were mini-jukeboxes at each table, which let you enter songs to play throughout all the other jukeboxes in the restaurant. The queue would grow so long though, so it was very rare that you’d even hear the song you requested, but it’s all part of the charm.

You take a look at the menu for a moment, though you already know what you want to eat. Then, you place it down at the front of the table, turn toward the jukebox, and start turning the pages to pick out some songs.

“What’s all this?” you hear Daniel ask, scooching over on his side of the booth to get a closer look. You smile wide and look over at him.

“It’s a jukebox! You can pick out songs and eventually, they’ll play out of the speakers,” you say, turning back to search through the songs. Finally, you find just the right song. I Feel the Earth Move by Carole King, G7. You enter the letter then the number and then move back to face him.

“Carole King, huh? Good choice,” he says as he combs through the songs. You smile and then lean over the table to watch him pick one out. He stops at one of the pages and looks harder at it, then picks one himself: B4. You look closer to see what the song is. Till There Was You, The Beatles. Your smile turns even wider.

“I love that one!” you exclaim. “I hope it actually plays. The songs I request never actually play.” You hear him laugh deeply, and you look over to meet his eyes. He’s smiling as well, and while his lips are closed, the deep craters of his dimples tell you all his secrets. He’s not always as serious as he might appear.

“Hopefully it does,” he says. Before he can say anything else, the waiter comes over to your table to take your orders. Daniel raises his eyebrow at you, hinting for you to go first.

“Can I have a Dr. Pepper, and then a cheeseburger and fries, please?” you say to the waiter, handing him your menu. “And for you?” the waiter asks, turning to Daniel.

“I’ll take an iced tea, and a BLT and fries,” he says. The waiter nods, taking your menus and walking back toward the kitchen.

“So, Y/N,” Daniel starts, folding his fingers together and placing them on top of the table. “You’re from around here, right?” You look up at him and raise your eyebrow, not entirely sure how to respond at first. He’s never asked you very many personal questions, besides what you’re studying.

“Oh, uhh, yeah. Sort of,” you start, as he looks at you attentively. “I’m from a small town just outside of Saginaw, you probably don’t know it.” You watch as his eyes light up and a smirk forms on his lips. “Try me,” he says.

“It’s called Birch Run… like I said, it’s real small,” you say, prepared for him to respond in a confused way, but he surprises you.

“Get out of here, I’m from Frankenmuth. We’re practically neighbors,” he says, his closed-lip smile turning into a wide one. Your eyes go wide.

“Oh! Wow, okay. That’s crazy,” you say, smiling back at him. “We used to go to Frankenmuth every December for the Christmas market when I was a kid. It’s been years since I’ve been back there, though.”

What you don’t want to mention is that it was your dad’s favorite place to go. Once he left home when you were in middle school and never came back, your mom couldn’t bear to go anymore. Your home life always tends to put a damper on things, so you always opt to not talk about it at all. Maybe one day.

“Small world,” he says. “My dad would always take us too. He’s a teacher, just like me. Sometimes his students or their families would be selling things there, or they’d be performing, so he always wanted to go support them when he could. He was the school favorite, clearly.” It’s sweet the way he smiles as he’s telling you about his father. It seems like he loves him a lot, which you both love and envy.

“That sounds lovely. The music was always my favorite part, you know. I’d sit there in the front for so long that my mom would have to pick me up by force so we could go home,” you say, laughing at the memory. Some things never change, and your love for music has been a constant for you.

“It was my favorite too. Still is,” he says. “I’m looking forward to going back this year.”

It felt somewhat bizarre, knowing things about him in this way. Not just because he was your professor, of course, but also because he’s always been such a mystery to you. It’s making him so much more real, somehow, and you welcomed it.

The food arrives soon after that. You make some small talk here and there, he asks about your other classes briefly, and you ask him about the other classes he’s teaching too. He tells you that he teaches architecture courses as well as art history, which you’re starting to take quite an interest in.

Soon enough, you finish eating and it’s time to pay the check. You watch as Daniel hands the waiter his credit card before you have time to protest. “Daniel, you really don’t have to do that. I’m capable of paying for my own dinner,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“I know you are, sweetheart. But I’m taking care of it,” he says with a smirk. He signs the check and then stands up, and you follow suit. “Can I drive you home? It’s the least I can do, it’s dark out.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you say, following him out of the restaurant.

You both walk back across campus together to the parking garage in comfortable silence. Finally, you arrive at his car and he opens your door for you before going around to the driver’s side. You put your address into the GPS on his phone and he pulls out of the spot toward the exit of the garage. As he starts to drive you home, you can’t take your eyes off of him. This new side that he showed you tonight has turned you on more than you’d like to admit. You weren’t expecting it, and his charm isn’t lost on you. It reminded you a lot of why you became interested in him in the first place. His charm is what brought you in, and now it’s what keeps you around.

Not to mention, he looked so good tonight. He wore a navy blue button-down, with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. His arms always looked so good, but they did now especially. When he notices you looking at him, you see a smirk form across his lips.

Daniel’s right hand leaves the steering wheel to rest on your thigh, gripping it tightly before rubbing his thumb softly along it. The sensation is enough to nearly take the air from your lungs, causing you to lean your head back against the headrest.

His hand inches up further on your thigh and you take another deep breath, looking over at him. He bites his lip as he turns onto your street, finding a spot a few spaces down from the front of your building. You watch as he puts the car in reverse and turns over his shoulder to look out the rear window, still not taking his right hand off of your thigh. The whole display was ridiculously impressive, and you couldn’t hide your arousal even if you tried. Every move he made just made you more and more enamored with him.

He takes his hand off of your thigh to put the car in park then reaches up to push a piece of hair out of your face. “How do you do it?” he asks, rubbing his thumb smoothly along your cheek as his hand rests on the back of your neck.

“Do what?” you answer, looking up at him through your eyelashes as his face inches closer to yours. “Look so beautiful without even trying,” he says, using his grip on your neck to pull your face closer and finally close the gap between you. You breathe out a sigh into his lips as they begin to overtake you, the pace escalating quickly from soft and sweet to hungry and needy.

All of a sudden, you watch as he pulls away from you and reaches down to the left of his seat to recline it backward. He uses the extra space to quickly move to the backseat, then reaches forward again to put the seat back in its original position. You turn over your shoulder to look over at him behind you, a smirk starting to form on your face.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, his voice deep and musky with arousal. You almost let out a quiet whimper as you scramble to crawl over the center console to meet him in the backseat. You straddle his hips, placing your hands on both sides of his neck as your lips hurriedly meet his again.

His hands wrap firmly around your waist, holding you in place. As your tongue sneaks into his mouth, he lets out a low groan, thrusting up toward you. The grip he has on your waist is so tight that you’re sure it’ll leave a mark tomorrow. You can feel his hardened cock straining against your core, making you grind back against him in his lap as the kiss deepens.

“Be a good girl and lay back for me,” he says, taking his lips off of you and loosening his grip on your hips. You move backward in the seat, leaning your back against the door and letting your legs fall open. “There you go, baby,” he praises, kneeling on the floor of the backseat.

His hands find the waistline of your jeans, moving to undo the button, then lowering the zipper. He wastes no time, lifting your hips then pulling your jeans down completely and letting them rest on the floor. His eyes move up to find your black lace thong and your cheeks flush as his lips turn upward into a smirk.

Daniel tucks his fingers into the sides of the thong, sliding it down your thighs and allowing it to fall and sit with your jeans. He leans upward and his palms move to spread your legs further apart for him. He places a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh, just inches away from where you crave him the most. “You are just… unbelievable,” he mumbles against your skin, moving his lips up toward your core.

He sucks sharply on the skin of your inner thigh, leaving a deep mark. You let out a high-pitched whine, and he removes his lips to run his tongue along the spot to soothe it. He finally reaches your core and places a kiss right above your clit. “So fucking perfect for me,” he says before lowering his mouth onto you.

He immediately starts a painfully quick pace, gliding his tongue through your folds for a few moments before attaching his lips to your clit. You lean your head back in ecstasy, hitting your head against the window as you let out a stifled moan.

Then, much to your dismay, he removes his lips from you and you look down at him with a frustrated groan. “Uh-uh,” he scolds, “Open your eyes and look at me, or you get nothing.” You nod feverishly, and he smirks as he brings his mouth back down to continue his attack on your clit.

With his fast pace, you’re already nearing the edge. His eyes are glued to yours, looking up at you as he sucks on your clit. You fight the urge for your eyes to roll back in your head, not wanting to disobey his orders. “Fuck, Daniel, I– I’m close,” you mutter, gripping the seat tightly.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he mumbles against you. You feel him groan against your clit and he quickens his tongue’s movements, making your head start to spin. You let out a loud moan as he inserts two fingers into you, curling them upward to hit that spot deep inside you. That was enough to bring you over the edge– your hand reaches to grab his curls tightly and hold him against you tightly as you thrust against his mouth and ride out your high. His mouth continues to work you as you come down, slowing down gradually until you release your grip on his hair, allowing him to remove his mouth from you.

“You taste heavenly,” he says, coming up to slot himself between your legs and crashing his lips on yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, making you groan into his mouth as his tongue swirls against yours. Suddenly, your phone starts buzzing rapidly from its place in your jeans pocket on the floor. He moves to sit next to you and you scurry to find it, picking it up to see Rose’s name on the screen. You sigh deeply and then slide your finger across the screen to answer the call, putting it on speaker.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? You said you were on your way back home like, half an hour ago! I was getting worried that you got kidnapped!” she yells, loud enough to echo against the car walls. You glance over at Daniel awkwardly, trying not to laugh out loud. He has a wide smile on his face, bringing his hand to his mouth to stifle his own laugh to avoid getting caught.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say, “Daniel was driving me home, we just lost track of time.” A laugh finally erupts out of his mouth, making you let yours out as well, and you hear Rose scoff over the phone. “Right. You lost track of time,” she says sarcastically. “Get your clothes on and come up here before I kill you.” She hangs up the call before you can respond, and you and Daniel break out into uncontrollable laughter.

“Sorry that I got you in trouble,” he says as you slide your underwear and jeans back on. You lean over and place a kiss on his lips with a smile. “It was worth it,” you say, reaching behind him to open the car door. He steps out and extends his hand to take yours and help you out onto the street.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then walking past him toward your apartment building. “See you later, sweetheart,” he says, smiling to himself as he gets into the driver’s seat, turning the ignition. He doesn’t pull off until you walk through the doors, making you smile like an idiot as you wait in the elevator and approach your apartment.

You turn the key and open the door to your apartment, closing and locking it behind you. “Sorry I’m late, Mom!” you yell sarcastically, walking into your bedroom and setting your bag down on the floor. “Whatever,” Rose says, poking her head past your doorframe. “You better tell me all the details.”

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

The weekend goes by pretty quickly, spent mostly by reading over your art history textbook and binge-watching Naked Attraction with Rose. Monday soon came, and you’re finishing up your notes in art history class at the end of the lesson. You look up from your notebook as Daniel says, “Okay guys, I think that’s everything you’ll need for the exam next time we meet.”

He dismisses class early and walks back to his desk to pack up, watching you passively as you slip your notebook into your bag. You raise your desk and stand, slinging your bag onto your shoulders as Stephen stands with you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, catching you as you start to walk up the aisle. “How do you feel about the exam? Confident?”

“Oh, yeah,” you answer, shrugging your bag higher on your shoulders. “I could take it now.”

He smiles and nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, art history genius. I forgot” he jokes, tapping his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I feel pretty good about it too, I’ll still probably study a little bit though.” Stephen pauses for a moment, studying your face before continuing. “Y’know, I could use someone as smart as you to study with.”

His smile is charming, and you can’t deny the enjoyment of hearing about your own intelligence. A soft smile finds its way onto your lips as a slight blush creeps onto your cheeks. You shift and turn to face him, seeing Daniel watching you out of the corner of your eye. Your eyes flick between Stephen’s face and Daniel’s as you chew on your lip absently, considering your answer.

“Oh um,” you laugh nervously, unsure of how to turn him down without an excuse. “Yeah, sure. A friendly face to study with could be nice.��

Daniel raises an eyebrow at you and clears his throat, turning his attention back to his laptop. Your cheeks flush and you look at the ground for a moment before turning your eyes back to Stephen.

“Sweet,” he says, pushing his phone towards you to get your number. “We can plan a time later.”

“Sounds good,” you say, adding yourself to his contacts and shooting yourself a text from his phone before handing it back to him with a smile. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Stephen smiles and walks away, leaving with the rest of the class as you look over at Daniel as he shoves his laptop into his bag with a little more force than necessary. You feel your face get hot and you slowly make your way to the front.

“My office,” Daniel says, not looking at you as he stands and starts walking up the aisle. “Now.”

You follow after him quickly, jogging a bit to catch up with him. “Did I do something?” You ask, adjusting your bag on your shoulders as you follow him to the elevator.

He pushes the “up” button, ignoring your question, and waits silently until the doors slide open. When they do, he steps through them and hits the button for the third floor. He leans against the back wall as you step through the doors, turning your back to him as the doors slide closed. You ride silently, your arms folded across your chest, and when the doors open Daniel pushes past you, leaving you to follow him into his office.

“Are you going to fill me in on whatever it is I did?” you ask as you pull the door closed behind you, crossing your arms.

“No, I don’t think I am,” he says, closing the distance between you and pinning you against the door. Your breath hitches in your throat as he nudges his knee between your legs and brings his hand up to brush your neck lightly. “I just want you to know that I don’t share.”

Your head rolls to the side at his touch but snaps back up at his words. “Wait,” you say, holding a hand up to Daniel’s chest. “This is about Stephen?”

He hums and nods, bringing his hand up to your face and stroking his thumb across your cheekbone. “I heard you planning a little study date,” he says, his hand falling to rest on the side of your neck.

“Are you jealous, professor?” You ask, your voice saccharinely sweet as your lips turn up into a smirk. Your chin lifts as Daniel runs his thumb along your throat before he tightens his grip. He studies your face intensely as your cheeks flare pink and he returns your smirk.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he whispers, trailing kisses along your jaw. “Being a brat won’t get you anything good.” You shiver as his breath tickles your ear and you sigh when he attaches his lips to the sweet spot just below your ear. His hand falls to toy with the hem of your shirt and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Do I need to remind you that you’re mine?”

“Yours,” you repeat, your voice lifting as if asking a question. You hate to admit it, but his possessiveness is sexy. Every word adds to the growing heat between your legs.

Daniel’s hand slips down the front of your leggings and he glides his fingers through your folds, a whisper of a groan escaping him as he discovers how wet you are. His thumb finds your clit and begins to work slow circles around it, drawing a quiet moan from your chest.

“Mine,” he confirms, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity you haven’t seen before. “If you’re fucking me, you’re fucking only me.”

Your head falls back against the door as your body responds to his touch, your back arching as he slides a finger into you. He curls it forward, stroking against your sweet spot, and you bite your lip to hold back a gasp. His pace is agonizingly slow and your hips move on their own, grinding against his hand in an attempt to speed things up. With his free hand, he pins your hips against the door, clicking his tongue at you.

“Stand still,” Daniel orders, continuing his torturous pace. “Or I’ll stop altogether.” You whine and huff out a frustrated breath, your eyes holding his gaze. He adds a second finger, drinking in the pained moan that falls from your lips.

“Poor thing,” he teases, a wicked smirk on his lips. His thumb flicks over your clit and your breath catches in your chest. Your walls flutter around his fingers as you feel your thighs start to quiver in anticipation.

“Daniel…” you say, your voice barely audible. “I’m-”

Your thought is cut off as his hand retreats, drawing a whimper from your throat at the loss of contact. He clicks his tongue condescendingly and licks his lips, watching you as you attempt to grind your hips down on his knee still tucked between your legs. He steps back with a cruel laugh and studies your face as you whine at him.

“Sluts don’t get to cum without permission,” he says flatly, his eyes darkening. “You’ll cum when I say so.”

Daniel takes your hand and pulls you into the room, leading you to his desk. He puts a large hand on your back, pushing you down, and you catch yourself on your forearms as you bend over the wood. You feel his hand drift down your back before he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down over your ass.

He presses himself against your ass, allowing you to feel him for just a moment before he pulls away. You turn to look over your shoulder at him but are forced to bury your face in your arm to stifle a cry as his hand comes down hard against your ass. His thumb rubs over your skin as it turns pink, soothing the sting for a moment before drawing back and landing another smack on the same cheek. He repeats this cycle several more times, leaving you a whimpering mess sprawled on his desk.

“How many?” Daniel asks from behind you, his thumb stroking over the throbbing red mark he’d made. Your ears prickle with heat and you risk a glance back at him, tears stinging your eyes.

“W-what?” You stammer, not grasping what he was asking.

“How many was that?” He clarifies, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

You hadn’t been counting, didn’t know you were supposed to be counting. You bite your lip as your head spins, deciding guessing is better than not answering at all as you say, “Eight?”

“Are you asking,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Or telling?”

“Eight,” you say, more confident this time. He smiles, satisfied, and slips your leggings down the rest of the way, tapping your leg for you to step out of them. You shiver as the cold air in the room touches your bare legs and you straighten, turning to face him. Goosebumps raise on your skin as you watch Daniel swiftly undo his belt and remove his slacks and boxer briefs.

He lowers himself onto the couch against the wall and strokes himself at a lazy pace as his eyes rake over your body. With an almost imperceptible nod, he gestures for you to join him and you slowly make your way over, tugging your shirt over your head and dropping it on the floor. You place a knee on either side of him, straddling his lap, and his hands find your hips, his fingertips digging into your skin firmly.

Daniel’s hands move up your back slowly and he unclasps your bra with a flick. You let the garment fall down your arms and you toss it on the floor behind you, not breaking the gaze you shared with him. His hand drifts up your stomach, his fingertips grazing lightly against your skin, and your muscles quiver under his touch as if they were electrified.

A soft moan leaves your lips as he palms your breast, kneading his fingers into the flesh. You let your head fall back as his tongue traces around your nipple and grind your hips down against his hard cock. He groans and takes your nipple between his teeth, biting down on the bud and making you yelp softly. His free hand returns to your hip and squeezes you, hinting that he wants you to keep going. You repeat the motion, grinding yourself down against him, and moan softly as his hips buck up, his length rubbing your sensitive clit.

You set a slow pace, savoring the sensation, and you feel his lips travel to the slope of your breast. His teeth drag against your skin for a moment before he bites, sucking at the spot until a purple mark already starts to form. Looking at the mark, his lips turn up into a smirk and he turns his attention to your other breast, leaving a mark that mirrored the other. His hand on your ass grips you firmly, guiding your hips over him, and he moans against your skin. He lifts his head to look up at you, watching the subtle rise and fall of your body as you work yourself toward the edge.

“Ah, ah,” Daniel tuts and moves his hand over the red mark on your ass and squeezes hard, ripping your attention away from chasing your orgasm and back to him. “That’s enough.”

With one hand under your thighs, he lifts you up slightly, reaching to line himself up at your entrance. He lifts his eyes to yours as he feels how slick he is, his lips quirking up at the corners. An amused hum comes from his chest as he turns his attention back to lining up and swiftly pulling you down onto him. You gasp as he fills you, letting out a drawn-out moan at the welcomed pain of him stretching you.

“Fuck Y/N,” he hisses, his hands holding you still as your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. He looks up at you, his pupils blown out and a bewildered smirk on his lips. “What are you?”

You smile and shrug innocently, draping your arms over his shoulders and the back of the couch behind him as you slowly start to ride him. “Fucking silk,” he groans as his head falls back against the couch as you glide over him. His hands rest on your thighs, pushing against them each time you rise, unable to even give the illusion that he wasn’t in control. You let your head drop to rest on your arm, turning your face towards Daniel’s neck as you breathe out moans tangled with his name against his skin.

Daniel shifts his hips under you, adjusting the angle as you ride him. Your breath catches in your throat as his cock brushes against your sensitive spot, leaving stars in your vision. Your sounds spur him on and suddenly he wraps his hands under your thighs, forcing you to stop.

You’re about to protest when he begins fucking you harshly. Pressing your face into the crook of his neck to quiet yourself, you let out a moan. His tip brushes against your cervix and you whimper against his skin, your walls tightening around him as you feel your stomach tense.

“Daniel, please,” you beg, your voice faltering. He reaches up, tangling his fingers in your hair, and tugs your head up.

“Sit up,” he demands, letting you lower fully onto his cock. “Want to watch you fall apart.”

You let out a whine as his hips still and you meet his gaze, your eyes pleading. Daniel presses his thumb against your lips and you part them, letting him press forward. You swirl your tongue around it before he pulls back and moves his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles into it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he muses, his eyes watching your face as you squeeze around his cock. “Let go.”

“Fuck,” you moan, your orgasm crashing over you as your fingers dug into Daniel’s shoulders. He releases your head, letting you fall back to his shoulder, and he returns his hands to your thighs, lifting you up and fucking you again relentlessly

“Oh my god,” you groan into his shoulder, digging your nails into his back as he pounds into you. With a final rough thrust, Daniel’s fingers dig into your thighs and he curses, his cock twitching inside of you as he spills his release. His hands release from your thighs and you lift off of him slowly, sitting back on his thighs and letting your forehead rest on his shoulder.

You both gain control of your breathing, and you finally feel like you can trust your legs. Slowly, you slide off of his lap and gather your clothes from the floor. You pull your leggings on, trying to find your ability to speak, as Daniel stands and collects his underwear and pants from the floor.

“So,” you say finally, clasping your bra behind your back and bending down to pick up your shirt. “No one else?” You turn your eyes to him and find him staring back at you. He scoffs a laugh and folds his arms across his chest.

“Cancel your study date,” he says, mocking the first word.

“I will,” you say, not even considering telling a lie.

His eyes flick to your bag by the door and back to you. “Now.”

Your cheeks flush and you grab your phone out of your bag, pulling up the text from Stephen and tapping reply.

To: Stephen

Hey, I just looked at my calendar and I’m totally booked up until after the exam. So sorry!

You tap send and hold it up dramatically so Daniel can see it, a satisfied smile finding its way onto his lips. He steps closer to you and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling your body against his. You look up at him and he winks, lowering his head to press a kiss to your lips.

“No one else, sweetheart,” he whispers against your lips.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

chapter iv

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eksvaized · 4 days

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Part One Ghost / Reader [ Previous ︱Next ] AO3 ︱Wattpad taglist (if you want to be added - let me know!)

A/N: this fic is a result of bunch of chick flicks that I've watched recently

I usually write stories containing darker themes, but I wanted to try doing something different this time ��cuz I need a break from yandere!simon

“Are you going to tell me your name now?” Simon asks, his voice barely more than a breathless whisper in the tranquil hush of the room. His hands uncurl from the curve of your hips and fall away as he succumbs to gravity, collapsing onto the mattress beside you. His chest heaves lightly. Sweat glistens on his forehead, each bead glowing like a tiny diamond under the soft moonlight that filters through the thin curtain.

On this sweltering, broiling night, the heat clings to everything like a second skin, oppressive and all-consuming. It’s a night where the air is so thick it could be cut with a knife, making the small, cramped hotel room feel more like a furnace than a refuge. The window barely opens, offering only a tiny crack for any trace of a breeze to sneak in. Yet, despite the dry heat, the simmering tension between you and Simon, built through stolen glances in a dimly lit bar, reached its boiling point — it was impossible for you and Simon to resist each other any longer.

The pull between you two was so strong, so utterly irresistible, that before you knew it, you found yourself lost in the sea of crumpled sheets of a stranger’s bed. In fact, you were so caught up in the whirlwind of passion that you didn’t even bother to ask for his name. It seemed an irrelevant detail in the face of such raw desire.

However, in the midst of your tangle of limbs, with your legs looped over the stranger’s broad shoulders and your nails digging into his forearm, he murmured his name in your ear. It was clear he wanted you to know it, to whisper it, to moan it as he drove his hips into you with a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart.

You didn’t dismiss his breathless request. Instead, you embraced it with fervour, letting his name roll off the tip of your tongue like a sultry melody. You surrendered yourself to him, losing yourself in the depth of his gaze and the strength of his touch…

“If I do, will it change anything?” You say, your words dripping with a hint of sarcasm. Slowly, you sit up on your knees. The sheets cascade down from your body, revealing your bare skin. Your fingers find their way to your hair, combing through the tangles and knots. As you do this, the strands separate and peel away from your neck, revealing the flushed skin underneath.

“I told you mine,” Simon counters, his voice carrying a playful edge that mingles with the thick tension in the room. He tilts his head to the side, studying your expression with an unreadable look in his eyes; his gaze is piercing yet gentle, like a predator observing its prey.

Simon shifts, rolling slightly to the side. His hand starts to wander, tracing a path from your knee, winding its way up to the soft curve of your thigh. His fingers dig into your flesh, kneading it with a tantalizing mixture of gentleness and urgency. He can’t seem to get enough of touching your silky smooth skin, as though each contact is imprinting you deeper into his memory. And each feather-like touch, each slow stroke of his fingers, draws you further into the mattress, causing air to get stuck in your lungs.

If only the stifling heat wasn’t so unbearable that it filled the room with a heavy atmosphere. If only his muscles weren’t screaming in protest. Then, by now, you would already be on your fours, your head buried in the soft pillow, your back arched. His name would be the only sound breaking the silence. The only sound escaping your lips.

“Only because you wanted to,” you retort, not missing a beat. You lean forward, breaching the distance between you two, and steal another lingering, one last kiss. The intoxicating taste of him, a cocktail of mint and bourbon, still clings to your lips as you slowly pull away, a soft sigh eluding you.

Without uttering another word, you slip out from the bed and begin to walk towards the bathroom. The air of the room prickles your naked skin. Goosebumps ripple across your arms and legs. You can feel Simon’s gaze following your every movement. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. With a small, playful smile dancing on your lips that he can’t see, you intentionally move your hips just a bit more than necessary, adding a little extra tantalizing sway to your step. And just as you hear the mattress creak, as soon as you hear Simon’s feet hitting the ground, you disappear behind the bathroom door and lock it.

After a swift rinse under the lukewarm droplets of the shower, you briskly dress up and leave without saying goodbye to Simon. You rationalize this choice by reminding yourself that there’s no real point in prolonging the inevitable - you have no intention of seeing the man again. Besides this, you are already running perilously late: your stuff is still strewn about your room, waiting to be packed. The notion of missing your flight looms ominously in your mind. You know that if you wish to catch the same flight as your co-workers and finally escape the conference that’s lasted a week, you need to hasten your pace…

* * *

As Simons settles onto the couch, his mind lost in thought, he absentmindedly traces the contours of his fiancée’s hand. His brown eyes drift down to the glittering engagement ring on her finger. The diamond sparkles under the soft lighting of the living room. With a feather-like touch, he slowly brushes his fingertip over the gem, feeling the smooth coolness of the stone against his skin, as a sigh escapes trough his parted lips.

Simon Riley is soon to be a married man. The idea seems so outrageous, so outlandish, it could very well be the punchline of an April Fools’ joke. Yet, he must remind himself of the reality. That this isn’t a joke, or an April Fools’ prank. This is real and truly happening. In just a short month or so, he will be a married.

The idea of sinking into the comfort of a conventional lifestyle was always as foreign to him as an unfathomable alien landscape - barren, devoid of the thrill and adrenaline he thrived on. The thought of buying a quaint, picturesque house nestled in the heart of a peaceful suburban neighbourhood, of exchanging his motorcycle for the mundane practicality of a family car, had never been part of his future plans. He had always seen himself as a lone wolf, never meant for long-term relationships or the compromises they entailed.

Simon’s stubborn nature, his steadfast refusal to openly express his feelings or display vulnerability, made him a difficult man to understand, let alone love. He had long since accepted the fact that his seemingly harsh exterior and emotionally distant demeanor might not fit neatly into someone’s idea of an ideal partner. The very notion of compromise? For Riley, that was a foreign concept. It was always his way or the highway, no questions asked. So what kind of woman would willingly accept a man like him, scarred both physically and emotionally, and dare to love him despite these jagged edges? Definitely not a sane one.

Yet, against all odds, a woman who saw past his hardened exterior, who looked beyond the scars etched on his face, body and soul, and saw the man beneath, had walked into his life. And now, she was about to become his wife.

Emily was a gorgeous woman, with her slightly crooked nose, a warm smile that could light up the darkest room, and her big eyes that told a thousand unspoken words. Initially, she and Simon were just neighbours, and he found her to be quite annoying - probing too much into his life and generally being involved in his affairs more than he would have liked.

However, as time wore on, a bond developed between them. It was not something that they had planned or anticipated to happen. Yet, whenever he returned from his deployments, each more grueling and tension-laden than the last, he found himself inexorably drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. They started spending more and more time together, just being in each other’s company, sometimes barely even talking.

Emily had a way of making him feel grounded, of making feel normal amidst the chaos of his life. Over time, one thing led to another. Their feelings for each other grew stronger, and without either of them ever explicitly acknowledging it, they found themselves in a relationship.

Simon was well aware of Emily’s dreams - her desire to get married someday, to build a family with the man she loved, and to live in a charming house with a white picket fence and a spacious backyard. He also knew that he couldn’t provide her with those things. He was aware of the fact that someday their paths were destined to veer apart, with life steering them in different directions. However, life doesn’t always go according to plan, especially not the one Riley made, and there came a day when he found Emily in the bathroom, her eyes swollen with tears.

Seeing her in such a state was heartbreaking for him, but she refused to share what was causing her distress. It took her an entire day to gather the courage, but by evening, she confessed that she was pregnant. The news hit Simon like a tidal wave; the shock making it feel as though the very earth beneath his feet had been violently torn away. Without uttering a single word, he stormed out, leaving her alone. He spent the entire day wandering aimlessly through the city streets, chain-smoking and grappling with the enormity of the situation.

As dawn broke, painting the sky with soft hues of orange and pink, Simon returned home, a ring in his hand, and proposed to Emily. After all, it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Simon was not the kind of man who would create a situation like this and then leave Emily to deal with it on her own. He knew she wasn’t going to terminate the pregnancy - he wouldn’t even dare suggest it because it was her body, her choice. And since she was going to keep the baby, the only feasible course of action, the only path he could see himself taking, was to offer her marriage and make her dream come true, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

“Is she really coming tonight?” Simon asks and pulls out the phone to check the time.

“Yes,” Emily replies with a resigned sigh, sinking into the plush couch cushions, her gaze distant. “But she operates on her own schedule. She’s never been very punctual, so I wouldn’t start worrying just yet.”

Emily’s older sister was due to arrive at their flat any moment now. She was coming to stay with them for a while, primarily to help Emily in planning the wedding because Emily realised she needed all the assistance she could get. Especially since she believed that Simon, bless his heart, was quite inept when it came to these matters.

To Emily, Simon’s wedding ideas were like a child’s drawing, far removed from the elegant masterpiece she had envisioned for her special day. For instance, red-coloured napkins were, in Simon’s opinion, a perfectly acceptable choice, as was serving cake on paper plates that they could later just throw out. Emily, however, found these suggestions utterly appalling. And although Simon didn’t quite understand all the fuss, he was willing to bend to his fiancée’s wishes. After all, she was carrying his unborn child, and he would do anything to ensure her happiness.

When the weight of wedding planning began to press heavily on Emily, like a towering mountain threatening to crumble, Simon offered an alternative. He had proposed the idea that they might consider getting married after the baby was born. Perhaps a year or two down the line. But Emily was quick to dismiss this, insisting that she wanted to walk down the aisle before her belly started showing: she dreamed of wearing a beautiful, elegant and definitely the most expensive wedding dress she could find. Luckily, Simon was not only understanding, but also financially capable of making her dream come true.

As another hour slips by, a sudden, sharp rap at the front door punctures the silence like a gunshot. Emily’s face immediately lights up. She springs up to her feet with an agility that catches Simon off guard, leaving him rooted in place, a spectator to her sudden burst of energy. Emily dashes towards the hallway with a speed he didn’t know she possessed—she was usually a clumsy woman, prone to tripping over her own feet, making this display all the more surprising.

By the time Simon manages to shake off his surprise and catch up, Emily is already pulling a woman into an enthusiastic embrace. Her words bubble over in her excitement, too fast and too joyful for him to catch.

When the two women separate, their laughter still echoing in the hallway, bouncing off the walls and infusing the house with warmth, Emily steps to the side and spins around. Simon’s muscles involuntarily tense, his back growing rigid as he watches the newcomer, the woman standing in front of him.

“Simon, this is my older sister—” Emily introduces, her hand gently guiding her sister forward.

Simon’s lips part, yet no words escape. He is speechless. How could he not be when he’s facing you? He thought that he had buried the memory of you deep within his mind, convinced himself that the image of you in his hotel room was just a fragment of his imagination. After all, more than three years had passed since your last encounter. But seeing you now, more beautiful than he recalls, watching your eyes rest on him and a blush creep onto your cheeks as you politely extend your hand, makes his heart sink. Do you not remember him?

“Y/N,” you say, a feeble smile on your lips. “It’s nice to meet you. Finally.”

Simon, not wanting to dredge up memories and thinking it might be better that you don’t seem to recall his face, nods. Struggling to control his overwhelming emotions, but somehow managing to keep his voice steady, he lightly shakes your hand. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

* * *

As the moonlight pours into the room, you toss and roll in the bed. The mattress is too firm; the pillow is too soft. The sheets twist and turn around you, feeling like knots of rough ropes. They wind and tangle around your limbs, tightening their hold, suffocating your body in their constricting, serpentine grip. A wave of heat suddenly washes over you. Was this room always this hot? You struggle to remember, but the increasing warmth is smothering, clouding your thoughts like a thick fog. You angrily kick off all the blankets, sending them to the foot of the bed. The pillow follows next, thrown to the side with a huff of frustration. Your fingers hook under your shirt, pulling it slightly upwards. You expose your navel to the cool room air, and the sudden temperature shift sends goosebumps rippling across your skin.

A few weeks ago, on some early Sunday morning, you were awoken by the excited voice of Emily crackling through the phone. She was bursting with news, eager to share her joy with you. She had just gotten engaged and was anxious, but in a good way, to start planning the wedding. And she wanted you by her side, to help her prepare for the impending nuptials. At that moment, when you agreed to come and stay with her and Simon — you could never say no to your little sister, especially when it’s something as monumental as her wedding — you had never imagined it would turn your life upside down.

Emily, with her usual candor, had spoken at length, in great detail, about Simon, her now-fiancé. Her voice was always filled with admiration and affection whenever she mentioned him - she was never shy about singing his praises, about the way he showered her with attention, about how he lavished her gifts. She would often talk about his comfortable financial status, too. It was a factor that allowed her the luxury of indulgence in her every whim and fancy without the slightest concern or anxiety over how to pay for it. Whether it was something as mundane as a monthly subscription to the gym or something as extravagant as a new pair of expensive earrings that she had been eyeing for some time, Simon was always there to provide.

Sometimes, when she called you, there was an air of show-off in her voice, as she boasted about the lovely dinner she had with Simon at some upscale, pricey restaurant, or the new designer handbag he had gifted her. And deep down, beneath the surface, you could feel a little twinge of jealousy. How could you not? You worked long hours, lived alone in your small apartment, and barely had the time or energy to date. Not that you were desperate to find a long-term partner or anything, but still, it was a stark contrast to Emily’s life. And you definitely could not yet afford to live a lifestyle where you could buy whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, without the slightest worry about your bank balance.

The stark contrast between your lifestyle and your sister’s was sometimes a little too glaring. Yet you tried not to think about it too much or too often.

Emily’s wish for you to meet Simon was no secret, too. She had frequently brought it up in conversations, hinting at the idea, yet for a myriad of reasons, a formal introduction had never come to pass. Perhaps the lack of free time on your end was to blame, or more likely, you had never prioritized creating that time. After all, Emily’s choice of a life partner was her own, and as far as you were concerned, it didn’t particularly matter who she chose to marry, as long as the man she picked treated her with the respect and love she deserved. Your only concern was Emily’s happiness. Which is why, as long as she was not spending sleepless nights crying over petty arguments, you were content to stay in the periphery of her romantic endeavors.

Even when Simon and Emily moved in together, you never made the effort to visit and meet him in person. This was mainly because you harbored serious doubts about the longevity and seriousness of their relationship. This skepticism was fueled by Emily’s frequent grievances about Simon’s reluctance, and how he had categorically labelled himself as a man who was not meant for marriage—you believed that a proposal was highly unlikely.

But now, as you lay in the guestroom of Simon and Emily’s flat, a bitter regret gnaws at you. You wish you had made a different choice. You wish you had taken the time and effort to meet Simon, even just once, because perhaps then, you wouldn’t be in this painfully awkward situation that you currently find yourself in. Perhaps then, Emily wouldn’t be on the precipice of marrying a man who, still unbeknownst to her, was once your one-night stand.

You know, deep within your heart, that you shouldn’t let yourself care. It’s a truth you’ve been grappling with, a reality that you’ve been trying to accept ever since you stepped into this flat — you are not with Simon and, in fact, you never were. Yet, it still feels incredibly strange, almost surreal, to acknowledge the fact that he is now the man your sister is going to be spending the rest of her life with.

The part that stings the most, the piece of this strange puzzle that seems to hurt more than you anticipated, is not just his engagement to your sister. It is the fact that he appears to have completely erased you from his memory. Over the course of the late-night dinner that the three of you shared tonight, not once did he give an inkling of recognition, not a single hint that he had ever crossed paths with you before. It made you wonder, Are you really so easily forgotten?

You know, a lot of time has passed, but you had harbored a tiny flicker of hope that you had made at least some kind of impression on him. Because after you saw him for that last time all those years ago, when you quietly slipped away from his hotel room without uttering a word of goodbye, his face stayed etched in the deep recesses of your memory for quite some time afterwards. After all, forgetting a man like Simon, the tantalizing way his touch was a paradox of gentle yet rough, hungry yet patient - it was akin to attempting to erase the sun from the sky.

But perhaps it’s for the best, you begin to think. His apparent forgetfulness, although initially hurtful, might actually be a blessing in disguise. It means there’s no need to dredge up the past, no need to revisit those memories. There’s no awkwardness to navigate, no turbulent undercurrents of tension to swim against. You don’t need to worry about him or Emily feeling uncomfortable with the knowledge that, in another time and another place, you both slept with the same man.

After spending another restless hour tossing and turning in bed, you decide to get up because forcing yourself to sleep is becoming painful, both physically and mentally. You rummage through your yet-to-be-unpacked suitcase, a dishevelled heap thrown carelessly near the door, and retrieve a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. Despite your recent attempts to kick the habit, right now all you can think about is the desperate need for a cigarette. You hope it will soothe your frayed nerves and hopefully lull you into the elusive sleep that you so crave.

Slipping from your room, you are aware that the balcony is off-limits - that would entail walking through Simon and Emily’s bedroom - while the thought of descending the elevator only to ascend again after five minutes seems equally unpalatable. Getting dressed would be too much of a chore right now. So, clinging to the hope that Emily and Simon are deep in slumber, you tiptoe to the kitchen and push the window open as wide as it can go.

After moving a flowerpot out of the way, you gingerly perch yourself on the windowsill. The street below is eerily deserted, with only the occasional car breaking the silence as it zooms by. In the huhs, your thoughts wander, and you find yourself yearning for the familiar chaos of your own flat. You miss the cluttered living room, littered with books and knick-knacks, and the comfort of your own bed. The idea of spending the next month here is daunting, almost overwhelming. The only solace you find is in the hope that helping Emily with her wedding preparations will keep you so occupied that you won’t have much time to interact with Simon.

Before you can even consider managing to stay in the same room as him without your heart racing, you need to confront your own tangled feelings. You must face the hard truth that all of this is not some elaborate, fevered dream, but an undeniable reality.

“Are you planning to jump?” A low, gravelly voice asks from behind you. Every muscle in your body tenses like a tightly coiled spring, and you sit up straight, your heart starting to pound in your chest.

In a futile attempt at nonchalance, you try to lower your hand, hoping to camouflage the lit cigarette you’re holding. Yet, the unmistakable, pungent smell of burning tobacco, which fills the kitchen like a heavy fog, and the tiny trail of white smoke spiraling upwards and dissolving into the stuffy air like a ghost, betrays you.

“Don’t think so,” you reply, your voice barely louder than a whisper, a soft murmur that almost gets lost amidst the persistent hum of the refrigerator and the distant tick-tock of a wall clock.

There’s a moment of hesitation, similar to a deer caught in headlights. You remain frozen in place before you gather enough courage to turn and look at Simon as he approaches you, his footsteps echoing loud and clear in the otherwise silent kitchen. You had somehow convinced yourself that you were safe here, that neither Emily nor Simon would find you, but you were obviously wrong. It feels like the universe just played a cruel joke on you.

And now, as you sit there, enveloped in the awkward silence and under Simon’s unwavering gaze, you can’t help but think that maybe remaining in your room, continuing to lay in the warm bed, would have been a much better choice than being here, forced to talk with Simon.

His gaze, sharp like the edge of a knife, meets your hand, and you brace yourself, thinking he will scold you because the kitchen now smells like smoke. But, to your surprise, instead, he reaches out, snatches the still-burning cigarette from your grasp, and takes a deep drag. The bright tip of the cigarette casts a ghostly glow in the dimly lit kitchen, painting everything with a hazy orange hue. You press your back against the wall when Simon leans closer to the open window, his palm resting on the windowsill, dangerously close to your leg. He exhales a thick cloud of smoke into the cold night air, each puff disappearing into the inky darkness.

Simon is not wearing a shirt. In fact, the only piece of clothing that adorns his body is a pair of loose boxers, decorated with tiny white skulls that are a little faded. You try, and fail, not to stare.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks another question that ripples through the still air like pebbles cast into a calm lake, but you just shrug, choosing to keep your thoughts to yourself. It wouldn’t be wise to admit that he’s the reason behind your insomnia, and in your current state of mind, you don’t have any other reasonable explanation to offer.

In silence, the two of you continue to chain-smoke. The cigarette gets passed back and forth between your fingers, and you are cautious of where your fingertips touch — you avoid grazing his skin as though it was a burning ember. A part of you, a desperate part, yearns to continue this quiet. But there’s a question, a nagging doubt, that has been lurking in the back of your mind. It feels as though it’s burning a hole in your skull, demanding an answer. You want, no, need to know - how can he not remember you?

But you aren’t a person to be so straightforward, so blatant with your questions. So, instead, after a minute or two of wrestling with your thoughts, and failing to suppress the question any longer, you say, “You know, I knew someone named Simon once.”

He turns to look at you, his brown eyes darkening. His gaze, initially wavering, drops for a brief moment before it slowly travels back up, taking in your entire frame. Every instinct in your body screams at you to curl into a ball, to roll your shoulders inwards and lower your chin, letting your eyes fall into your lap. Yet, you muster all the strength you can find to sit still, to not let his attention intimidate you. Especially when Simon, with a wicked glint in his eyes, decides to draw out the silence, making each passing second feel like an eternity.

“Funny,” he then says. “I also once knew a woman that looked awfully a lot like you. Wish I could tell you her name, but she never gave me it.”

The intensity of his gaze sears into you, becoming too overwhelming to bear. You finally avert your eyes, pretending to look at the street below. But the sound of his voice, the way he speaks, makes it difficult for you to breathe, for you to slow down your hammering heart. “She said something along the lines that we would never cross paths again,” he continues, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

“Obviously, she was wrong,” you interject and summon the courage to look at him. Only for a moment, though.

“Obviously,” he echoes, a smirk curling the corners of his lips, but as soon as your gaze lands on him, he quickly wipes it off his face.

Even the faint breeze that sneaks in from the open window begins to feel like a winter’s bite, stinging your skin with its icy touch. So, he remembers you. You don’t know how to feel. A part of you can’t help but wonder if he, too, like you, is mentally replaying the night you two spent together, because you certainly are. Your mind is a reel of candid moments, every detail etched in your memory.

Despite the physical distance between you and him, a mere few steps that feel like an abyss, you can almost feel the phantom of his touch. His fingertips seem to be gliding over your skin once again, leaving trails of heat where they touch. You can almost feel the warm puff of his breath tickling your neck as he presses a kiss, and then another one. These thoughts, these memories, they send a cascade of shivers down your spine, an electric shock that jolts your senses. This is not good, terrible, awful. You berate yourself silently, feeling like a terrible sister.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” You ask, seeking some form of conversation to distract yourself from the increasingly unsettling thoughts swirling in your mind: the more you focus on your thoughts, the more inappropriate and lewd they become. You desperately need to shut off your mind, to clear it, and the only way to do so seems to be to immerse yourself in something else. Even if that something else is an awkward, tension-filled conversation with Simon.

Simon’s reaction to your question is a slight roll of his eyes. But there is no hint of annoyance in his voice, no sign of frustration or anger. Instead, what you hear is a sense of calm resignation. “Didn’t think it was a great idea to bring it up. Was sure Emily wouldn’t appreciate finding out that I had slept with her sister some years ago and never told her.”

As he speaks, you feel a knot forming in your stomach. Against your will, the words that you would rather swallow down and never utter find their way out, “We should forget about it. Probably.” It’s not what you want, not really, but it seems like the only right thing to do in this situation.

“Probably. Given her current condition, any additional stress wouldn’t be good for Emily.”

Your eyebrows furrow deeply in a mixture of confusion and concern as you struggle to understand what he’s referring to. “Her condition?” You repeat his words, trying to make sense of them.

Simon’s lips part and close slowly before he asks. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” You ask again, your patience wearing thin.

“Can’t tell if you don’t know,” he replies, and a frustrated huff escapes your lips, disappearing into the shaky air between you.

“Tell me. She’s my sister. I need to know if something is wrong,” you say, not willing to let this go without a fight. Your mind races as you try to think of what Emily might be keeping from you. If she’s fallen ill, you demand—no, you require—to know. She’s the only family you have left, and Simon is still yet to become a part of it. He is still an outsider in many ways. Thus, he has no right to keep things from you, especially important information that directly concerns your sister and her wellbeing.

Simon sighs heavily. He runs a hand through his messy hair, ruffling it further, before he saying, “Nothing is wrong. She’s just… she’s pregnant.” He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, and also to gauge your reaction to the unexpected news.

When you remain silent, he takes it as a cue to continue. “She didn’t want to tell anyone, not yet. She mentioned something about not wanting to celebrate prematurely before we know for sure that everything’s okay—she still needs to see a doctor.”

You know your initial reaction should be one of joy. Emily has always been vocal about her desire to start her own family. But as you look into Simon’s eyes and see your hazy reflection in them, you can feel a lump forming in your throat. Your body goes numb, and it feels as if you’re losing something, something you never even possessed.

“Don’t tell her I told you,” Simon says after you mumble you should be going back to bed.

You cast a lingering look over your shoulder, feeling a sense of heaviness weighing down your heart, and slowly nod. “Of course not.”

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #love triangle

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icequeenlila · 10 months

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Runaway Lo'ak fic (Locorro)

Lo'ak x Spider

I want to start a new fic, bc I am depressed and need joy in my life (she said while planning out a new angsty fic).

Don't worry, I'll keep writing 'A Son for a Son'. That story is my baby and I will not abandon it. But I need/want variety.

(also it's just an idea so far)

Working Title: 'Belong'

Plot:

Lo'ak tries to make peace with Aonung, nearly dying in the process, just like in the movie. When he returns home he has the usual fight with Jake, only that Lo'ak doesn't just swallow the "You brought shame to this family.", but fights back instead, trying to defend himself. Things get heated, son and father screaming, until Jake hits. Not too hard, but he hits. He regrets it immediately but the damage is done and Lo'ak decides he can't stay. He doesn't fit. No matter how hard he tries, it's never right and he doesn't want to be a burden for his family anymore. So, over the following days he plans his 'escape'. Payakan is in on the thing and they leave together.

So much for the initial situation.

Lo'ak's 'escape' is pretty much a day (or a few) before Quarritch would have found the Sullys. (He doesn't in this fic. So, Neteyam lives. Yeay!) Lo'ak and Payakan spot the demon ship and go to take a look, just in case this is going to get a real threat to the people at Awa'atlu. Lo'ak sees Spider on the deck and he can't believe his eyes. Of course he decides to go get him. Spider is mad happy and slips away with his best friend without much thought. (No, I didn't forget the tracker inside his mask. I'll deal with that.)

Well, things happen blah blah blah. I don't know the details yet.

Lo'ak and Spider are in love. Oblivious numb skulls, of course. Lo'ak offers Spider to get him to Awa'atlu, so he can be with Kiri and the others, but Spider just wacks him and tells him he's stupid for believing he'd leave his side again. Bc Love, bro.

Spider ends up getting his own Avatar. Again, no details, but I have a rough plan.

Blah blah blah, they grow up, they travel the world, they adopt two sweet children along the line. And some day, when their travels bring them close to Awa'atlu, Spider decides to give old friends a visit (without Lo'ak's knowing).

So, imagine. Jake and Neytiri not knowing what happened to their son, finding Spider in na'vi form with their supposedly grand child on his arm. Hilarious.

Lo'ak and Spider are level A dads by the way. They gonna have a boy and a girl. I don't know the details yet, I only know that the lil boy is gonna be a difficult whirlwind with anger issues. Bc I want Lo'ak to be a gentle parent.

Also, Mo'at and Norm are part of this story (at least they are in my imagination, I'll make things up as I go.) Locorro is gonna stay with the Omatikaya for a while, Mo'at not being as rejecting of Spider as her daughter was. Also, her character is needed, so Spider can get the same ritual as Jake, connecting his soul to his na'vi body permanently. (I imagine Mo'at as a very loving grandma. Lo'ak and her are gonna bond.)

I'm probably gonna do multiple povs. Like the story doesn't just follow Lo'ak and Spider but also shows how the Sully's are dealing with Lo'ak's loss. Bc we need angst and I won't give Jake a rest.

Family reunion and stuff. Do I have your interest? Tell me pls.

I started writing some of it but I know I'll lose interest if there isn't any feedback from readers. Soooo, pls let me know, so I can decide if it's worth investing my time. I know Locorro isn't that big, so maybe the interest isn't there in the fandom.

I noticed how all my fics just come to existence, bc of some stupid thing Jake said that pissed me off in the movie.

A Son for a Son: " You've done enough."

This one (Belong): "You brought shame to this family."

That man is my muse.

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writingquestionsanswered · 5 months

Note

How do I generate ideas for a first draft? I usually get stuck after making a Pinterest board, writing a very rough outline and then leaving the project behind. I have never written a first draft for any of those ideas which makes me feel sad. Help me out?

Ideas Never Lead to First Draft

This usually happens when you have a lot of disparate ideas for a story that aren't coherent or leading to a specific point.

Stories are more than just accounts of random people kicking around in their world doing random things. Stories have a point... a message that you want to get across to the reader. They have a conflict... an internal and/or external problem that must be resolved by the protagonist/main characters. The protagonist must have a goal that they're trying to pursue as a resolution to this problem. There has to be an antagonistic force creating obstacles that make the pursuit more difficult. Without those things, you just have a bunch of pretty pictures on a pinterest board, and maybe a loose outline of random things these characters can be randomly doing, but no actual story to write.

You can start by spending some time on my Plot & Story Structure master list of posts, and you might also want to spend some time on YouTube watching videos on topics like story conflict, motivation and goals, story structure, how to find your story's message and themes, etc.

Story plotting books and workbooks can also be incredibly helpful if you can spend a little money. Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody is a really good one. K.M. Weiland has a story outlining workbook that's really good. You can also look up different outlining methods like Larry Brooks' story structure or the Snowflake method. Etsy also has a bunch of downloadable/printable/digital story planners for reasonable prices. These are all great for helping you learn how stories should work and helping to give some substance to a whirlwind of disparate ideas. :)

Happy writing!

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foli-vora · 1 year

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run to you: chapter four

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: thank you for being patient! shit is hectic in the brain right now, but fuck real life amiright? feels good to write again and to come back to these two. not a whole lot of marcus this chap, or a particularly long one, but it's all about the story building or something like that lmao. i still haven't updated my taglists so i apologise for that. if you've previously requested to be added for this story, please do so again via whatever coz my mind is all over the place and i'll forget to check the previous chapters. enjoy angels! x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and 'You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: the usual... angst, swearing, reader is a stresshead, golden retriever fbi agent who is bestie material, talk of lies/deception, brief talk of being arrested, flashbacks and the usual bitter saltiness one man brings to life in us

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The sound of water running fills the empty silence of the bathroom, steam eventually swirling up from the spray and crawling along your ceiling. You pick at the paint dried onto the skin of your fingers as you wait, exhaustion creeping along the edges of your mind with an urge to pull you under.

It’s not as if the work had been hard, in fact, you had relished in the familiar buzz of music and paint strokes. It felt refreshing, despite having a number of works to get started on. So much of your time now consisted of working to pay the bills you only just managed to keep on top of, so there was little opportunity to enjoy your creative side.

No, the stress of the art had been lovely, the whole mental gymnastics and whirlwind of emotions because of him though?

Draining.

You hope Marcus won’t make a habit of waltzing in and screwing up your day. What did he even achieve coming in to get rid of Jacob? What was the purpose of his visit? Surely not to just get you to eat. There had to be some kind of ulterior motive here.

He’s a federal agent—of course there’s a hidden agenda somewhere.

Well you won’t fall for it. Any of it. Not again.

You would remain on your high guard around him until you finished with whatever they needed from you and then all ties would be cut. You would keep communications curt and simple—there’s no need for unnecessary small talk and chit chat. You’re here to work, and that’s it. Hopefully, it will all be over soon and you can really put it all behind you for good.

The car ride had been spent in complete silence. Your eyes didn’t waver from looking out the passenger door window, and Marcus made no effort to break the uncomfortable energy lingering in the vehicle.

You didn’t even look at him when he eventually pulled to a slow stop outside your building, barely waiting for the car to stop completely before you pushed the door open and slammed it harshly behind you.

He didn’t leave until you disappeared into your building.

The anger still lingers, even after a somewhat decent heavy sleep.

He had deceived and tricked you, again. You had briefly trusted his word, believed his empty promise, and for what? It was all bullshit. Again. It’d been a mistake. It’s all a game to him—lies are all he knows. He seemingly lies as easy as he breathes, for it all to come so naturally.

What else is he lying about, giggling with his little agent friends? Is Jacob in on it all? He seemed friendly and decent enough, and happily kept out of your way when you asked him to give you space the day before, but then again, he wouldn’t be the first man to lure you into a sense of comfort as a ruse.

To hell with all of them.

You won’t be laughed at, not again, not this time.

This time, you were on to them. This time, there was no hiding behind a pretty face, fake ID and false backstory. You wouldn’t give them—any of them—the satisfaction of watching you fall again. Marcus, Jacob, the rest of the team—they won’t break you.

—

Agent Wilson is promptly on time as expected, noticeably upbeat and bouncy, standing just outside of your door in a freshly ironed dark suit and navy blue tie, holding out a carry tray of various drinks that you try not to react to.

It’s all fake—the kindness.

It’s a lie.

“Morning, Picasso!” He grins, “I wasn’t too sure what you’re into, so I grabbed a few choices: cappuccino, tea—English Breakfast, I think?, Chai Latte and a chocolate Frappuccino with extra cream. Although, I’ve kinda been eyeing the frappe on my way here, so don’t break my heart.”

You study the selection carefully before letting your eyes roll back up to meet his bright green ones, careful to keep your face blank of any and all emotion.

“I don’t want anything—I’m not thirsty.”

He blinks at your hard tone, clearly taken aback.

You try to keep a hold of the slight twinge of guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach, carefully schooling your expression into something firmer, unbothered.

“Oh, okay. That’s cool, guess that extra cream is mine, then!”

The small slither of guilt grows at the slight look of dejection that passes over his face despite the force of the smile curling his lips, but you don’t dwell on it.

He’s one of them.

You had made sure to be ready for his knock earlier that morning, so you simply step out of your apartment with your bag over your shoulder and lock the door securely behind you, shutting him out from your space and keeping him from prying into your surroundings like he had done the day before.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No. I’ve got it.”

“Okay then,” he murmurs, clearing his throat softly and turning to head to the elevator. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.”

Silence follows your sharp response, and Wilson takes it as a clue to stay quiet for the rest of the trip to his car. He disposes of the drinks in a nearby trash can and the guilt doubles.

He’d gone to the effort of grabbing you a beverage, probably left his home early to ensure he could do so… maybe you should’ve just accepted one to keep the peace.

You slide into the car and buckle up, staring at the early morning events unfolding outside the windscreen as he slides in beside you and starts up the car.

It doesn’t move however, and you look to him in question, only to find him already staring expectantly at you.

A small wall of defence builds at his gaze, and you start to wonder if now will be the time he uses his authority over you and reminds you of your lowly position in this case. Maybe he’ll tell you that he knows everything, that you deserved everything you got—

“Are you pissed at me for leaving you with Pike?” He asks, and you can’t help the brief flicker of surprise. Okay, maybe not. “Look, I’m sorry—I thought he would’ve cleared it with you, but if you want, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again. I mean, I don’t have much say, but if you’re that uncomfortable I’m sure I can talk to someone—”

He’d do that? For you? You desperately try to come up with a reason why he would even bother. He’d gain nothing from it, the team wouldn’t either. What’s his play? Where’s the catch here?

Maybe there isn't one.

A part of you refuses to believe that. The part that had been beaten and broken and had its trust torn to fucking shreds. He’s a federal agent, and they think of only themselves and their team. You aren’t a part of the team. You’re an outsider, a criminal. You’re nothing to them.

Maybe he just genuinely wants to help.

Maybe. Maybe.

You sigh softly, and shake your head.

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I’m sorry, it’s not you. I guess I just… I’m just not feeling great about this whole thing. I’ll cut back on the bitchiness.”

He shrugs it off, another smile coming easily to his lips.

“Hey, if you’ve got history then it’s understandable. Just talk to me, okay? Let me know what you want. I’m here for you, it’s my job to keep you safe and happy, and if fighting my boss is what I’ve gotta do then so be it.”

You can’t help the pull of your lips at the mere image of it in your mind.

“You’ll fight him for me?”

He scoffs lightly, “Absolutely—I can take him. Just say the word, Dalí. I’ve got your back, clear?”

“Clear,” you reply softly. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I’m just not used to any of this. I uh… I don’t trust people very easily, and I’m having some difficulty adjusting to all of this.”

Understatement. It’s all a massive pain in the ass and exhausting.

“Yeah, I get it,” he replies, smiling comfortingly at you before pulling out onto the road and reaching for his drink, “but just know that I’m on your side here, okay?”

You nod quietly, not wanting to speak any more about it with someone who could be potentially relaying everything you say back to his team. Maybe they will take you down once this case is over, using the soon to be mountain of evidence as proof you’ve returned to less than legal painting activities. They’ll put you in for longer this time.

Shit, this is such a bad idea. You should’ve kept the fucking door shut the day Special Agent Pike came knocking.

You’re pulled out of the dizzying spin of your mind and its thoughts by a voice picking up in the car, breaking through the heavy dread quickly building in your system and pulling you from diving any deeper into the what ifs.

Jacob sings along to the music, completely unbothered by your presence in the car and swaying to the tune. You’re thankful for it, in a way. Thinking for too long on any of it makes you feel sick, so this is a welcome surprise.

And also highly fucking amusing.

“—hey Jude, refrain…”

He cuts off abruptly at your side eye, straw pausing just below his lips.

“What—you don’t like the Beatles?” he questions, almost shocked by the mere idea of it.

“I never said that,” you try to fight the smile, but it pulls at your lips before you can really help it, “I’d just rather hear them sing their song.”

“Ha, you’re funny,” he drawls sarcastically, rolling his eyes and sipping his drink before licking away the smudge of chocolate building up in the corner of his lips. “You know, when I was little, I wanted to go on American Idol.”

You choke on a laugh before you can stop it. “You did not.”

“I did. Thank god I didn’t—I’m not being remembered as a fucking idiot on YouTube for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t need American Idol, or YouTube for that.”

“Shit. Ouch,” he breathes, making a show of clutching his chest and giving you a playful grin, “okay, I see how it is. Now you can get the full show… NA-NA-NAA, HEY JUDE—”

—

“You’re behind nine weeks of payments. We can’t continue—”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You knew it was bad, you had the mounting bills building at home, but surely this couldn’t be it. They can’t just kick you out. There has to be something. You’d already maxed out your credit cards, you have nothing in the bank. Maybe they could do a payment plan, organise a scholarship or loan or something—

“No, please… I-I’ll work out something, I just—”

“I’m sorry,” the administrator gives you a look of sympathy, “but we can’t continue your education until payment has been sorted. Look, you’re a bright girl, you clearly have talent—maybe you’ll do okay on your own, without classes.”

“No, you don’t understand. This is all I have, I can’t lose this. Please, there must be something I can do?”

“Unfortunately not at this point in time, unless you can come up with this amount within the weeek. I’m sorry, I’ve held this off for as long as I can, but the debt is just mounting. We can’t continue with a promise of payment.”

You’re sure you can feel your heart breaking. You’d found some semblance of normality here… going to classes, doing fun assignments, meeting new people. It was the opportunity you needed, the chance to go further—

And now there’s nothing.

You sink into the chair, fighting the tears that build and clearing your throat to rid it of the uncomfortable feeling growing there.

“I understand,” you mutter, “thank you for your time.”

“Keep your head up, sweetheart. I’ll keep a spot available should you manage to work something out, okay? We’ll get you right back into it.”

There’s no way to work it out. Your job waiting tables paid pennies. You needed something more, something concrete, but with limited experience behind you and the requirements most places wanted nowadays, there was little chance of landing anything else. There’s just nothing you can do, short of robbing a bank.

You’d been expecting it for a little while, the stress continuously mounting with every bill that was sent to your door. You knew you weren’t paying for classes, you knew the debt was growing and growing. You just thought you had more time, more opportunity.

“I appreciate that, but don’t bother—I have nothing. Your waiting lists are huge, someone on there deserves their chance.”

You had yours, and you blew it.

—

Marcus is waiting outside the building.

Of course.

Your heart starts to beat harder in your chest. What is he doing here? He pushes off of the dark SUV he’s leaning against when he catches sight of Jacob’s silver sedan, and waits for you both to get out of the car when Jacob pulls to a slow stop.

“What do you want me to do?” Jacob asks quietly, making a show of reaching for, and struggling, with his briefcase in the backseat to give you a bit of time to answer.

You try not to look at him, doing a final check of your things that you’d previously already triple checked before leaving your apartment and deciding you've probably spent too much time dawdling.

“Can you just get me up there? I want to start my work,” you reply softly, grabbing the strap of your bag and reaching for the door handle, “but there’s not really much we can do if he wants to stay around.”

The breeze bites at your cheeks when you step out of the car, and you catch Marcus smoothing down his tie as you start to walk towards him. You feel your heart thunder with each step, resenting the way he could still stir those little butterflies awake in your stomach.

He’s attractive—that’s all it is. Your body is just simply reacting to it. There’s nothing there anymore. No feelings. Nothing.

“Good morning,” he greets quietly, a strained smile curling his lips, and you briefly decide that you prefer him with a bit of facial hair rather than a clean shave.

Not that it matters.

“Hello,” you return shortly, stopping just a few paces away and waiting for Jacob to catch up.

“I’m not staying,” he mutters after a few moments of further silence, his gaze darting past your shoulder to where his fellow agent walks around his car to reach the path. “There’s been a few developments overnight, so I’ve just come to check in with Wilson and then I’ll be going to the office. I won’t be coming back.”

Your reply is immediate and blunt.

“Good.”

It’s brief, but you see the flicker of hurt that passes through his eyes.

He drops his gaze from yours, desperate to look anywhere that wasn’t you, and soon the scuffle of shoes behind you brings his attention from you completely. It’s almost fascinating how instinctively his posture changes, hardening into something of an authority figure, hiding the swirl of emotions swimming in his eyes behind high walls.

You wonder if Jacob saw it. Does he see the difference between man and agent? Does he catch the certain mannerisms that change? Surely you can’t be the only one who sees it.

“Morning, sir. We’ll talk out here,” Jacob says firmly, coming to stand beside you and holding out a small set of keys, “she has a lot of work to do this morning and she wants to start immediately.”

Marcus blinks, his gaze darting between the two of you almost questioningly before he gives a slow nod, “Of course, that’s fine. I’ll let you get to it.”

You take the keys without another word and stride past Marcus, quickly letting yourself into the building and letting the door shut loudly behind you, dulling them to your senses and giving you a chance to breathe again.

Unrelenting heat washes under your skin, blood rushes through your ears until you can hear the heavy beat of your heart echo in the canals. You take a moment to gather yourself in the dark, quiet hallway, rubbing a hand along where your heart hammers against your chest.

When will it all stop? Would you ever be able to look at him and not feel an immediate burning sense of rage? Of bitterness? Would your mind ever forget the way he would say ‘I love you’? Would your body ever forget how he would touch you, kiss you? Would your heart ever just let it all go?

It would have to. Surely, it would have to.

Time was all you needed.

Once finished with this case, you would be once again free to move on—if you don’t end up arrested—, and forget there ever was an Alex. A Marcus. Whatever his name is. Time would take it all away. It would happen one day, you just had to be patient and wait.

Taglist 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic #run to you

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jazzfordshire · 2 years

Note

I'm loving all of your extra bits from the 70s AU, i think it might be my favorite fic of yours (but tbh I can't really decide.) i hope you keep writing more in Lena's pov :)

also would you ever consider writing a lil story of them like a year or so after the story takes place?

It took me a while to answer this, but ask and you shall receive!

Developing photos has always been something like meditation for Lena. The hum of the red safelight, the soothing repetitive tasks, and the tangible physical result of her hard work has always driven her to develop them herself even when she could afford to outsource it. She used to hate being disturbed while working, but like so many things, Kara has become the exception – when she hears Kara’s familiar heavy footfalls coming down the stairs over the soft background noise of the new Simon & Garfunkel album, she only feels warmth.

“Permission to enter?” Kara calls from the other side of the black curtain, and Lena makes sure all her photos are set before answering in the affirmative. The peek of light is fast, and soon she feels Kara’s arms wrapping around her middle as the blonde looks over her shoulder at what she’s working on.

Usually she’d be doing paid projects down here, but this time the photos are from her personal film - pictures of Kara, pictures Kara has taken of her, shots of them together. Group photos with their friends. Snapshots of their life together. Usually their everyday photos are Polaroids, and Lena has a box full of them on a shelf upstairs; quick shots of Kara cooking or reading, of her lover gardening or tangled and smiling half-naked in their sheets. These film photos are from Lena’s better quality cameras, and she’s excited to finally see them coming to life.

Kara’s hands are gentle when they land on Lena’s hips, the rough skin of her fingertips catching on Lena’s shirt before slipping underneath to sit naturally above Lena’s waistline - she’s gotten callouses from all the painting she’s been doing lately, and Lena loves the way they feel on her skin.

“New batch?” Kara asks, pressing a kiss to Lena’s cheek. Lena nods.

“Mhmm. Ours, this time.”

“You finally developed those?”

Lena reaches up to point to a few of the drying photos hanging from pegs above them and slowly coming to life. One of Lena in bed, taken by Kara as an experiment with the camera buttons and turned out to be a wonderful candid. A perfect shot of their kitten curled up and sleeping on Kara’s chest while the blonde dozes on their couch. One of Kara at the march they went to together last month, holding a big painted sign that says gay liberation now! Kara had been so nervous to go, to exist so brazenly in public, but once they got there she’d been so brave. So proud.

“I didn’t realize there were so many,” Kara says, setting her chin on Lena’s shoulder.

“Neither did I until I started. I’m going to make an album.”

“An album, huh?” Kara grins, and Lena can feel the movement of it. “Is it going to be called Kara’s first year as a lesbian?”

“How about Kara’s year of queer?” Lena suggests cheekily, and she’s gratified when Kara bursts into laughter. She tucks her face fully into Lena’s neck, and her embrace tightens comfortably.

“I like that. Oh! Hold on, I have the perfect thing -”

And then Kara is gone in a whirlwind, bounding up the stairs like thunder. Lena has noticed that she’s become so much more at home in her body over the last year, no longer putting all her energy into making herself small and unobtrusive. She’s loud now, limber and free to laugh and a little clumsy. She wears comfortable clothes and sits with her legs spread and talks with her hands, and Lena loves it.

When Kara comes back down, she’s holding a book. Lena can hardly see it in the low light but when Kara holds it up she recognizes it as a faded Emily Dickinson compilation. The spine is so well-used that it’s almost cracked; it’s one of the few things Kara brought with her when she left Mike, Lena remembers. Kara opens it, and sitting inside it like two bookmarks are a pair of Polaroids.

“I looked at these every day before that first night we were together,” Kara admits, taking the Polaroids out to show Lena – they’re from the first day Kara ran between their old houses in the blue cords and button-up Lena bought her, which still hang in a place of honour in their shared closet. The day Lena had a mini-photoshoot and felt like she saw the core of Kara for the first time. “I hid them in here and I’d take them out when Mike was sleeping because they felt like the only real thing in that house. Like a window when I’d lived my life in a closed room.”

One of the photos is of just Kara, posed on Lena’s ottoman with her elbows braced on her knees and looking at the camera with probably her first easy and confident smile, and the other is of both of them. It’s bright, almost washed-out by the flash because Lena had taken it from so close, but their faces are still visible – Lena is laughing, and Kara is gazing at her with so much obvious love and confusion that Lena is flabbergasted that she hadn’t seen it earlier than she did.

“Kara…” Lena whispers, leaning into Kara’s side as she looks down on their faces from what feels like a millennia ago. It’s only been a year, but they’re both so far from the people they were in these pictures.

“When you took them, I’d never felt so alive. So seen. Now I feel that way every day.” Kara hands her the photos, smiling. “You should put them on the first page.”

Lena takes them, setting them carefully down next to the stack of finished photographs and pulling Kara into a long kiss. “I will. I’m going to make so many albums, you’ll be sick of them by the end.”

“Never,” Kara grins against her lips. “I want to remember every day I get to spend with you.”

“You always know exactly what to say.”

“I spent 27 years never saying anything,” Kara says with a shrug. “Keeping it all inside. I have a lot of catching up to do.”

It’s an admission that’s both happy and sad, and Lena peppers her face with tiny kisses until they’re both smiling.

“So, did you come down here originally because it’s almost time?” Lena asks, grabbing Kara’s wrist to peek at her watch. “I guess I should come upstairs and help before everyone gets here.”

“It’s past noon.”

“Already?” Lena gasps, frowning at the hands on the clock. “I’m sorry, love I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

“I’ve gotten things started already,” Kara says easily, kissing the top of Lena’s head. “I just need your help with the food. I grabbed burgers at the store – it seemed right for Independence Day, but I’ve never really grilled anything before. So if I muck it up I need you to eat it and pretend it’s amazing, deal?”

Lena rolls her eyes affectionately. Kara has never messed a single thing up in the kitchen, but for some reason – Mike’s discouragement, she’s sure – she remains self-conscious about her own cooking. “You know I’ll love anything you make. And then I’ll do the dishes.”

Kara ushers Lena up the stairs, closing the curtain behind them and giving Lena’s butt an enthusiastic tap as she reaches the top. It makes Lena jump and giggle, and she whirls on Kara to retaliate only to find her standing so close that all she can do is poke her in the belly.

“Kara!”

“What?” Kara feigns innocence, but her smile gives her away. Lena pokes her again, aiming for a ticklish spot, but Kara interrupts her attempts at vengeance with a kiss that turns from playful to heated so quickly that it makes Lena’s head spin. Kara’s hands have moved to her thighs, lifting her up and clearly on a path to press her into the nearest wall, when the doorbell rings.

Kara pulls away, groaning loudly.

“Of course. Duty calls,” Lena says a little breathlessly, taking a few deep calming breaths as Kara sets her feet on the ground again. “Come on, if your sister catches us in the act again she’ll need intensive therapy.”

Lena pulls Kara towards the entryway, Kara grumbling good-naturedly the whole way. Their kitten Streaky jumps off the couch, weaving between their legs and meowing until Kara picks him up; before they can even get to the door Kelly has opened it and behind her Alex has shouted you’d better both have clothes on this time!, and a timer goes off in the kitchen. Through the window Lena can see Sam’s car has pulled in and Jack is exiting the passenger side with an armful of fireworks, and Alex and Kelly’s two dogs rush past their legs to bound into the house and play.

It’s chaos, but it’s their chaos. Their family. And Lena loves every second.

The original fic is here, and the Lena POV snippets are here, here, here, and here.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #70s au #this is fun! i am working on more Lena snippets #this is short but i hope it satisfies that need for a glimpse

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shinybearnerd · 10 months

Text

"Celestial Ties" - pt. 2 of 2

Part 1.

Bonus Part

----------------------

Hello! Here's the second part of the fanfiction. Hope you like it! Soon I'll put other stuff about Good Omens. I have a request too! (Ahhh! Can't wait to write it). Anyway, bye. >:D

Pair: Aziraphale x Gn!reader Words: 2,9k Genre: Angst, some fluff? Story: The reader and Aziraphale see each other after eight years. That's it. (I don't know how to put it, otherwise lmao)

-Engish is not my first language. So I'm sorry if there are any mistakes-

When Y/n first laid eyes on Aziraphale after so many years, a whirlwind of emotions engulfed them. Their heart skipped a beat, and a mix of shock, joy, and pain washed over them like crashing waves. Their souls seemed to reach out, yearning to bridge the gap of lost years and unresolved emotions. They exchanged silent glances, communicating a lifetime's worth of feelings without uttering a single word.

All these memories, all those emotions that they so hard tried to bury deep within their soul, all of a sudden started to flood back out again, and they couldn't do anything to stop it.

Aziraphale's sudden appearance shattered the carefully constructed walls they had built around their heart, leaving them vulnerable and raw. A part of them had hoped to see him again, to reconcile the love they once shared, while another part knew that the pain of the past might resurface, tearing them apart all over again.

As for Aziraphale, seeing Y/n was both a blessing and a curse.

He couldn't deny the profound love he still felt for them, a love that had never really faded with time. But with that love came the weight of his own choices, the sacrifices he had made for the greater good, and the knowledge that he was the one who had driven them away.

When their eyes met, he felt an overwhelming sense of hope, the deep-rooted desire to embrace them and make everything right again. His angelic heart yearned for forgiveness, for a chance to make amends for the pain he had caused. Yet, he knew that he didn't deserve such a reunion. Not with the way he treated Y/n.

For the first time in his existing felt jealous seeing them with their son, living a life he couldn't be a part of. He envied the time they spent together, the happiness that seemed elusive to him.

The moment was charged with unspoken words, a delicate dance of emotions hidden beneath strained smiles and hesitant glances. It was as if time had ceased to exist, leaving them suspended in shared memory.

As Y/n and Aziraphale stood face to face, a torrent of emotions swirled between them, too overwhelming for words. Their eyes locked, and their hearts ached with the weight of unspoken truths. The love that had endured and the pain of parting ways.

Crowley stood by Aziraphale's side, causing his presence to make the angel feel protected.

Y/n's son, unaware to all, beamed up at Aziraphale, a smile of innocence lighting up his face.

<<Are you a friend of my Nomy, too? >>

Aziraphale's gaze shifted from the boy to Y/n, both unsure of what to say. The question hung in the air, loaded with unspoken truths and the complexities of their past. The angel's gaze then softened as he looked down at the boy.

<< Yes, my dear. I am a... friend of your parent. Yes.>> he replied, his voice gentle and tinged with nostalgia as he looked at Y/n. <<He's Aziraphale, my love. >> Y/n put his hands on his son's shoulders. << He and I go back a long time...>> <<Do you run that bookshop? >> Aziraphale exchanged a surprised glance with Crowley, momentarily caught off guard by the child's request. << Yes.>> said with his usual warm smile. <<Would you like to visit? Obviously, if your... okay with it. >> he added soon after looking at Y/n again. Upon hearing the confirmation, his face lit up with delight, eager to visit the bookstore he had admired from afar. He instantly looked at his parent, begging them to go.

Crowley seized the opportunity and suggested going inside. If a stare could have killed, or in this case, discorporated, Y/n could've done so. But the demon continued. << It would be a shame to miss such an opportunity...>>

Aziraphale's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. His hesitance melted as the prospect of them in the bookshop again filled him with anticipation.

Y/n attempted to brush off the suggestion, claiming they had other plans. But their son was determined. The boy's enthusiasm was infectious, and Y/n couldn't resist the pleading look in their child's eyes, so they accepted with a sigh and a gentle smile.

<<Alright, we'll go inside... for a while. >> consented, looking at Aziraphale, who what almost squirming from anticipation

As they entered the bookshop, memories of the past flooded back, and nostalgia washed over Y/n. The old wooden shelves, the scent of leather-bound books, and the soft glow of lamplight all felt like echoes of a time long gone. Nothing has changed. Even tho Y/n knew the shop's probably been like this since the angel opened the shop.

Aziraphale guided the boy through the store, showing him his favourite books and sharing stories from past centuries. The child was enthralled by the angel's stories, his eyes full of wonder. Saying that that warmed the angel's heart was a euphemism.

Crowley and Y/n remained near the entrance, on one of the armchairs next to Aziraphale's desk. << He's a clever kid... He has your eye.>> The demon started. Y/n immediately knew what he was going for. <<Please don't say another word. It's already difficult as it is. >> whispered, looking at Aziraphale and his son smiling at each other. A cocktail of emotion mixed in them. << He should know that he's his son too. And you know it, too.>> Y/n snapped. <<Why would he? He didn't seem to have so much caring for me before! >> << What on heaven are you talking about? He adored you! He worshipped you as if you were God herself!>> <<Then we remember two different Aziraphales. >> they said as they stood up, calling for their son. << Aiden, come on. It's time to go, baby.>> <<But mom, Mr Fell was- >> << I'm sorry, but we have to go.>>

Y/n's words were suspended in the air, laden with bitterness and unresolved pain. Their gaze was firmly fixed on their son, a mix of protectiveness and hurt etched on their face. Crowley watched with a heavy heart.

Aziraphale, caught off guard by the sudden tension, furrowed his brow in confusion. His eyes darted between Y/n and Crowley.

Aiden walked towards his parent, a little annoyed by the rash stop of the visit. Aziraphale's gaze shifted between Y/n and their son, his heart heavy with confusion and regret. He wanted to reach out, to bridge the distance that had grown between them, but he respected Y/n's wishes, understanding that the wounds were still too fresh, too deep.

The little boy took his parent's hand and turned to address the angel. <<Thank you so much, Mr Fell. Your bookshop is awesome! >> The angel smiled heartily. << Well, thank you, Aiden.>> <<I'm sorry that we can't stay a little longer... >> << Do not worry about that. You have to listen to your parents. They know what's best for you... Besides, you'll always be welcome in my shop.>> As he ended the phrase, he made a blue lollypop appear with a miracle. The boy's smile widened. The magic and the sugar treat both.

He only took the sweet when Y/n gave them a smiling nod. They hated to think about it, but Aziraphale sweetness towards kids always made their heart melt. They always knew that he would make an incredible father. And that moment was another piece of evidence.

<< Wow! How did you do it?>> <<Well, a magician never reveals. >> << You're so cool, Mr Fell!>> Aziraphale violently blushed. No one ever said something like that to him.

<<Come, my love. Let's go. >> As the angel heard the pet name, he felt his heart being shattered even more. They used to call him that way. Well, he thought. It was the right thing to say. But why he still felt horrible?

As Y/n and their son turned to leave, Aziraphale felt a sense of longing and regret tugging at his heart. He watched them walk away, his soul yearning for a chance to make amends. But for now, he could only stand in silence.

Once Y/n and their son disappeared from view, Aziraphale talked to Crowley. << What was that about? What have you told them?>> The demon opened his mouth different times. Nothing came out of it. Aziraphale's eyes looked into Crowley's, searching for answers he couldn't seem to find.

Finally, after a moment of tense silence, Crowley sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. <<I… I only tried to nudge things in the right direction. >> He admitted, his voice tinged with regret. Aziraphale furrowed his brow. <<What is it you're not telling me, Crowley? >> his voice was gentle yet insistent. << There's more to this, isn't there?>> The demon hesitated, the weight of his own secrets burdening his soul. <<I… I may have suggested that their son is… >> His words were hesitant and laced with guilt. << You need to talk to them. That's all I can say to you.>>

Crowley's evasive response only deepened Aziraphale's concern. The angel knew that there was something the demon wasn't telling him, and it left an unsettling feeling in his heart.

<<Need to talk to them? >> Aziraphale repeated a mix of curiosity and trepidation in his voice. << About what, exactly? What have you done, Crowley?>>

The demon's gaze faltered, his internal struggle evident on his face. He knew he couldn't keep the truth hidden forever. But he also didn't want to cause further turmoil between Y/n and Aziraphale. Finally, after a long moment of contemplation, Crowley sighed and decided to be honest. <> he took a deep breath and admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. << …Aiden is your son.>>

Aziraphale's eyes widened in shock as the truth finally came to light. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. It was as if the world had shifted on its axis, and everything he thought he knew had been upended. <<My… son? >> Aziraphale whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. << How is that even possible?>> <<Well, you know… When two people love each other very- >> <> he sighed. <<We're celestial beings. We're not meant to have offspring, Crowley! >>

The angel's voice wavered with confusion, frustration, and a touch of sadness. Aziraphale's brow furrowed as he tried to process the magnitude of what had been revealed. His thoughts swirled, grappling with the reality of having a son, something he had never imagined for himself as an angel. It challenged everything he thought he knew about his existence and purpose.

<< But what does this mean for us?>> Aziraphale asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. <<What does it mean for our relationship, for Y/n, and most importantly, for our son? I have to talk to her... >>

-.-.-.-.-.-

Days passed, and while Aziraphale was searching Y/n's apartment, Y/n ware thinking about Aziraphale nonstop. It felt like the first time they saw him, in the bookshop. Charming, clever, sweet… His eyes were always full of life and wonder. Full of that sparkles of wisdom and innocence.

He found himself consumed by thoughts of them, unable to shake the overwhelming emotions that had been stirred by the revelation of their son. He hoped to find the right moment to talk, to confront the truth and understand why they kept all away from him.

Each day without Y/n felt like an eternity, and Aziraphale's heart longed to see them again, to gaze into their eyes and find that sparkle that made them look like little stars.

He wandered into the shop, Crowley as always next to him. The demon was trying to say that maybe he found their apartment, but the angel was lost in thought, replaying memories of their time together. The laughter. The shared moments of happiness. The love that bound them together. The way their eyes met with a shared understanding…

He knew he had to find Y/n and have that long conversation to seek forgiveness and understanding. Time had passed, and wounds had decayed, but he couldn't let fear hold him back any longer.

Amid his thoughts, the bell above the door chimed, signalling the arrival of a visitor. Aziraphale and Crowley turned, his heart leaping in his chest as he saw Y/n standing before them. The angel's heart skipped a beat.

<< Y/n...>> Aziraphale breathed. His voice was barely a whisper. <<Someone wanted to visit your shop a little bit better… >> Aiden's little figure popped out, a wide winning smile on his lips. << Do you mind Mr Fell?>> As he listened to his son calling him "Mister", his heart sank a little. But smiled anyway and accepted.

<<Here, kid. I'll show you around. >> said Crowley, putting a hand on the kid's shoulders while walking him through the aisle.

As the two were left alone to talk, their past feelings started to resurface. He couldn't help but smile as he watched Crowley guiding their son through the bookshop, the demon's fondness for the child evident in every gesture.

Y/n glanced at Aziraphale, their eyes lingering on him before the angel broke the silence. <> << Well… I'm here now.>> <<I've been looking for you. I… I needed to talk to you. >> Y/n looked at him, a feeling of deja-vù in her stomach. << About what?>> <<About our son… >> Y/n became white as a ghost. << Who told you? It was Crowley?>>

Aziraphale hesitated, grappling with the truth and the situation at hand.

<< Yes, it was Crowley.>> he admitted, in a whisper. <<Of course he did... >> << He thought it was best to be honest with me. And I'm grateful that he did!>> Y/n looked conflicted, their emotions swirling beneath the surface. <> <> Aziraphale said, reaching out to gently touch Y/n's hand. <<It was a lot to take in. Especially for you! Raising a child all of your own! But… now that we know the truth, I think it's important that we talk about it openly and honestly. >> Y/n looked down at their intertwined hands. A mix of emotions playing across their face. <> Aziraphale smiled softly, dropping it off quickly later. <<Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant? Why did you run away? >> Y/n laughed darkly. <>

The atmosphere grew heavy with unspoken regrets and painful memories.

<> Aziraphale whispered, his voice laden with sorrow. <<I said things I didn't mean. Things I regret every day since. I know that I hurt you deeply... It was my biggest mistake, and I can never forgive myself for driving you away. But I was trying to protect you!- >>

Y/n's eyes glistened with unshed tears, anger simmering beneath the surface. << You didn't just drive me away, Aziraphale!. You denied our love, our connection. You made me believe that everything we had shared was meaningless to you!>> <> The weight of his past actions crushing him. <> <<But it wasn't right for me. >> Y/n replied, their voice raw with emotion. << You made that decision for both of us without even giving me a chance to understand what was going on.>> <> Aziraphale admitted, his voice breaking. <>

Silence fell between them, the weight of their shared pain and missed opportunities hanging in the air. Y/n's gaze met Aziraphale's, and he saw the hurt and vulnerability they had carried with them all these years.

<<I've been living with this ache for so long... And seeing with Aiden. Knowing the truth too! ...only deepened my longing to see you again, to try to make things right. >> Laughed angrily. << Do you really think that everything could be right again?>> <> Aziraphale replied honestly. << But I want to try. I want to be there for you, for Aiden. I want to rebuild what we once had. ...But only if you'll allow me.>>

Y/n looked torn, the conflicting emotions evident on their face. <> they said, their voice trembling. << But… I can't deny that I-I still love you.>>

Aziraphale's heart skyrocketed at their words, hope flickering in the darkness of their conversation. He lined closer and took their hands. <> he said, his voice filled with sincerity. << And I promise you, I'll spend the rest of eternity making it up to you if you'll give me the chance.>>

Tears finally spilt from Y/n's eyes as they looked at Aziraphale, vulnerability and love intertwining in their gaze. <>

Aziraphale reached out and gently wiped away their tears. << Then let's try together. One step at a time, rebuilding what we lost, and creating something new. Just me, you and Aiden.>>

As their hands remained intertwined, Y/n nodded, a glimmer of hope shining through the pain. They didn't dare to talk about their partner at home. They just smiled and nodded.

#aziraphale x reader #aziraphale #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fandom #good omens aziraphale #angst #x reader #x y/n #x you #aziraphale fluff

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aifanfictions · 7 months

Note

Write a story where Sherlock Holmes (BBC) falls in love with Rosie’s nanny. He likes that way she is so maternal towards Rosie that he starts thinking about having kids of his own.

Maternal Mysteries

Baker Street was as enigmatic as ever, and the legendary detective, Sherlock Holmes, was as brilliant and aloof as his reputation suggested. His brilliant mind was a whirlwind of ceaseless activity, constantly seeking out puzzles and mysteries to solve. But amidst the chaos of his tumultuous life, there was one mystery that had eluded him for far too long – the mystery of the human heart.

Rosie, the toddler daughter of Dr. John Watson, had brought an unexpected source of light and warmth into the once stern and stoic residence. Her laughter and curiosity were a stark contrast to the clinical and analytical atmosphere that usually permeated 221B Baker Street. It was her nanny, (Y/N), who bore the responsibility of caring for Rosie and taming the chaos of the household.

(Y/N) was a nurturing presence, her maternal instincts shining brightly. She was kind, patient, and endlessly gentle with Rosie, her soothing lullabies and loving presence a balm to the child's heart. Sherlock had never paid much heed to such matters before, but something about the way (Y/N) cared for Rosie intrigued him.

One evening, Sherlock found himself in a rare moment of reflection. He observed (Y/N) sitting on the floor, helping Rosie with a jigsaw puzzle, and a flicker of admiration lit up in his calculating eyes. It wasn't just her nurturing nature that intrigued him; it was the way her mind worked, the patience with which she guided Rosie through the intricate puzzle. (Y/N) was not just a nanny; she was a puzzle-solver in her own right.

Sherlock's curiosity was piqued. He decided to test her, setting up a complex puzzle that had left him momentarily stumped. With a subtle smile, he watched as (Y/N) knelt beside Rosie, taking a glance at the puzzle and its intricate pieces.

As (Y/N) examined the puzzle, her brow furrowed, and she started analyzing it systematically, just as she did with Rosie's puzzles. Sherlock's heart, a place he rarely ventured, skipped a beat as he realized that (Y/N) was unlike anyone he had ever met.

It took her only a matter of minutes to piece the puzzle together, and when she did, her eyes sparkled with triumph. "There you go, Rosie," she said with a soft smile, showing Rosie the completed puzzle. "We did it!"

Sherlock watched in silent awe, and for the first time, he realized that there were mysteries in life far more intriguing than crimes and conundrums. He was fascinated by the way (Y/N) approached life – with a motherly heart and a keen, analytical mind.

Over the following weeks, Sherlock found himself observing (Y/N) more closely. Her kindness, her maternal nature, and the way she solved puzzles with such ease fascinated him. He watched her teach Rosie about the world, and he saw how his once-chaotic life had been transformed by the presence of (Y/N) and Rosie.

One evening, as the embers of a fire danced in the hearth, Sherlock found himself alone with (Y/N) in the sitting room. He observed her gentle smile and the way she effortlessly cared for Rosie.

"(Y/N), you are truly remarkable," he said, his voice tinged with genuine admiration.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his. "Sherlock, what's come over you? You're not usually one for such compliments."

He cleared his throat and continued, "I've been observing you, and I've come to realize how extraordinary you are. Your patience, your analytical mind, your maternal instincts – they're all rather impressive."

(Y/N) blushed, feeling both flattered and surprised by Sherlock's words. "Thank you, Sherlock. That means a lot coming from you."

Sherlock's heart pounded as he searched for the right words, something that had always come easily to him, except in matters of the heart. "I've been thinking about… children, lately. It's a rather curious notion, I know, but I've been contemplating it."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Children, Sherlock? I never imagined you considering something like that."

Sherlock nodded, his voice softer than it had ever been. "Yes, well, you see, the way you care for Rosie, the way you approach life, has made me reevaluate things. It's a mystery I can't seem to solve, but it's a mystery that I find myself drawn to."

(Y/N) smiled warmly, her heart touched by his sincerity. "Sherlock, that's quite a revelation. Perhaps some mysteries are better left unsolved, but instead embraced."

In that quiet moment, the detective who had always believed in the power of logic and reason found himself facing the most enigmatic puzzle of all – the mysteries of the human heart. And in (Y/N)'s maternal presence and gentle spirit, he discovered a love and desire he had never known before.

As time passed, Sherlock and (Y/N) continued to care for Rosie, and their bond deepened. The mysteries of crime may have been Sherlock's profession, but the mysteries of the human heart were the most beguiling of all.

And so, as Sherlock navig

ated the uncharted territory of love and family, he soon realized that he had embarked on the most profound journey of his life.

One evening, as the city's mysteries called him away on another case, he left (Y/N) and Rosie behind, a familiar ache in his heart. It was during his absence that (Y/N) stumbled upon a new puzzle, one that could hold the key to their shared future.

A series of cryptic messages and strange occurrences had been left behind in their sitting room. The room was in disarray, with papers scattered, and books haphazardly arranged. Rosie had been drawing pictures, her scribbles and innocent creativity adding to the chaotic scene.

(Y/N), with her keen eye for detail, couldn't help but notice that there was something more to this apparent mess. The scribbles on Rosie's paper held an uncanny resemblance to symbols she had seen before, symbols that appeared to be part of a code.

Curiosity and a dash of excitement spurred (Y/N) into action. She began to piece together the clues, following the trail of enigmatic symbols left behind by the culprit. It was a puzzle that Sherlock himself would have admired, one that demanded a blend of analytical skill and creative thinking.

As she delved deeper into the mystery, (Y/N) found herself uncovering secrets that had eluded even Sherlock. The puzzles led her on a winding path through the city, and she was determined to get to the bottom of this cryptic enigma.

When Sherlock returned from his case, he found an expectant (Y/N) waiting for him, a glint of excitement in her eyes. She had cracked the code, and her heart swelled with pride as she unveiled the solution.

Sherlock, renowned for his ability to solve even the most perplexing mysteries, was taken aback. He couldn't help but be impressed by (Y/N)'s deduction skills. It was a moment that made him appreciate her even more.

With the puzzle solved and the case closed, Sherlock found himself looking at (Y/N) with newfound admiration. He was falling in love, not just with her, but with the idea of a family of their own, with children whose laughter and curiosity would fill Baker Street.

"(Y/N), you never cease to amaze me," he confessed, his voice carrying a warmth and vulnerability that was entirely unfamiliar to him. "Your maternal instincts, your deductive skills, your nurturing nature – they're all qualities I never knew I needed in my life."

(Y/N) smiled, her heart dancing with a newfound hope. "Sherlock, I never imagined that someone like you would appreciate someone like me. But I must admit, you're a mystery I'm willing to explore."

In the midst of the mysteries that had brought them together, Sherlock and (Y/N) discovered a love that was deeper and more profound than any puzzle they had ever encountered. Their shared journey of caring for Rosie and solving life's enigmas had led them to a love that was both unexpected and extraordinary.

Sherlock's heart had finally cracked the most enigmatic code of all – the code of love. And in (Y/N) and Rosie, he had found the most fulfilling and delightful mystery of his life.

As they continued their lives together on Baker Street, the detective who had once believed in the supremacy of reason and logic found that love was the most mysterious and enchanting puzzle of all, one that would unravel with each tender moment and cherished memory.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

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zapreportsblog · 10 months

Text

↱ i just go empty headed around you ↰

➘ summary : Mirio can’t help it, when he’s around her it’s like nothing else matter, his surroundings become only filled with her, she gives him a reason to smile, he feels stronger around her, she’s his peace if not anything more

➘ listening to the song honest by the neighborhood; on repeat as I write this

➘ a/n : I keep seeing this same anon message, so do you guys hate that I write long fics? Like no offense that’s sorta my thing at the moment I don’t like or rather I don’t really enjoy writing short ones though I can. But after seeing it again and again and I’m not sure if it’s from the same anon or different ones but I’m petty so here’s ya damn warning anon ; this is a really really really long fic. If you don’t have patience I would advise skipping this story

The campus of U.A. High School was a bustling hub of activity, students of all ages hustling to their respective classes, engrossed in animated conversations or immersed in their own thoughts. Among the flurry of activity was a tall, bright-eyed third-year student named Mirio Togata. With his characteristic perpetual smile, Mirio exuded an aura of boundless energy that was contagious to anyone in his vicinity.

On a crisp morning, as Mirio made his way to his next class, he unknowingly embarked on a chance encounter that would throw his usually composed demeanor into disarray.

Around a corner, Mirio collided gently with someone, almost dropping his stack of books. "Oh, sorry about that!" he exclaimed, his infectious grin lighting up his face.

As he looked down, his eyes met the gaze of a first-year student, (Y/N), whose eyes widened in surprise. The moment their eyes locked, Mirio felt an odd sensation wash over him. He could hear his own heartbeat, louder than ever, in his ears. It was like the world around him faded, and there was only him and (Y/N) standing in the hallway.

"N-No problem," (Y/N) stammered, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she recovered from the initial collision.

Mirio chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "I should've been more careful. Are you okay?"

(Y/N) nodded, her lips curling into a shy smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

His usual poise faltered, his words tumbling out in an uncharacteristic stutter. "I-I'm Mirio T-Togata, by the way. Th-third year."

He watched as (Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with amusement at his stutter. "Nice to meet you, Mirio. I'm (Y/N), a first-year student."

Mirio's mind raced, his usually quick-witted tongue seemingly tied in knots. He found himself averting his gaze, much like his friend Tamaki often did. His heart raced, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts as he tried to maintain his usually cheerful demeanor.

"That's a really pretty name," he blurted out, instantly cringing at his own lack of finesse.

(Y/N) giggled, the sound like music to his ears. "Thank you, Mirio."

He cleared his throat, willing himself to regain his usual confidence. "So, (Y/N), what class are you heading to?"

(Y/N) glanced down at her schedule before looking back at him. "I'm actually on my way to Hero Basics 101."

Mirio's smile brightened. "Oh, really? I'll be teaching there as a student instructor this afternoon. It's a fun class!"

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up with interest. "You're a student instructor? That's impressive!"

He scratched the back of his head, his blush deepening. "Well, I try my best."

As the conversation flowed, Mirio found himself enchanted by (Y/N)'s easygoing nature and radiant smile. Every word she spoke seemed to captivate him, and his once unbreakable self-assurance wavered in the face of her presence.

The bell signaling the start of classes rang in the distance, and Mirio's heart sank. He didn't want the conversation to end, but he knew he had to let (Y/N) go.

"Well, (Y/N), it was really nice meeting you," he said with a genuine smile, his nerves finally starting to settle.

(Y/N) returned the smile, her eyes sparkling. "Likewise, Mirio. Maybe I'll see you around."

As (Y/N) walked away, Mirio watched her with a fond gaze, a mixture of bewilderment and awe filling his heart. He couldn't help but feel that he had just experienced something truly special, something that would linger in his thoughts long after the encounter was over.

Days turned into weeks, and Mirio couldn't shake off the memory of his encounter with (Y/N). He found himself stealing glances at the crowded hallways, hoping to catch sight of her. Each time their paths crossed, his heart raced, his palms grew sweaty, and his usually impeccable charm seemed to desert him.

His friends, Nejire and Tamaki, couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in Mirio's behavior. Nejire raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Mirio, you seem distracted. Anything on your mind?"

Tamaki, who was usually the shy and reserved one of the trio, piped up. "Yeah, you're acting a bit... off."

Mirio laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Oh, come on, it's nothing. Just dealing with some hero stuff."

Nejire and Tamaki exchanged knowing glances, but didn't press the matter further. After all, they knew that Mirio would confide in them if he wanted to.

However, Mirio's growing infatuation wasn't something he could easily brush off. Each interaction with (Y/N) left him feeling both exhilarated and tongue-tied. He would often catch himself rehearsing conversations in his head, attempting to avoid the stutter that had become all too familiar around her.

One day, as he walked past the training grounds, he spotted (Y/N) practicing her Quirk. He couldn't help but marvel at her determination and grace. Gathering his courage, he approached her with his trademark grin.

"(Y/N)! You're really getting the hang of your Quirk," he exclaimed, his enthusiasm genuine.

(Y/N) turned to him, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, hey Mirio! Thanks! It's been a lot of hard work, but I'm getting there."

Mirio chuckled, a hint of his confidence returning. "Well, hard work pays off. And you've got a great mentor here." He pointed to himself with a wink.

(Y/N) giggled, a sound that echoed in Mirio's ears like a melody. "You're too kind, Mirio."

As they talked, Mirio found himself drawn into (Y/N)'s world. He learned about her ambitions, her favorite classes, and her dreams of becoming a hero. Her passion was contagious, and he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of admiration for her.

Over time, their interactions became more frequent, and Mirio's stutter slowly faded away. He still felt his heart race whenever he was around (Y/N), but he was learning to embrace the feeling rather than shy away from it. The moments they shared became the highlights of his days, and his smile, though always present, seemed to shine a little brighter when she was around.

Mirio was on a journey of self-discovery, discovering that even the most confident people could be struck by love's arrow. And with (Y/N) by his side, he was learning that it was okay to be a little vulnerable, a little lost for words, as long as he was genuine and true to himself.

One sunny afternoon, Mirio mustered the courage to invite (Y/N) to the U.A. campus rooftop. It was a secluded spot with a breathtaking view of the city, and he thought it would be the perfect setting for a heart-to-heart conversation.

"(Y/N), there's something I've been wanting to tell you," Mirio began, his voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in his chest.

(Y/N) looked at him with a curious smile. "What is it, Mirio?"

He took a deep breath, his usual charisma momentarily faltering. "Ever since we first bumped into each other, I've felt something different. You make me feel... well, a bit empty-headed sometimes. And I'm usually the one making people feel that way."

A soft blush crept up (Y/N)'s cheeks, but she maintained eye contact, her gaze unwavering. "You mean you've been nervous around me?"

Mirio laughed, his embarrassment easing away. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. But it's not a bad thing. You see, when I'm around you, I feel like I can just be myself, even if I'm a bit awkward sometimes."

(Y/N)'s smile brightened, her eyes shining with warmth. "Mirio, you've always been yourself around me. And I appreciate that."

Encouraged by her response, Mirio continued, "There's something else I want to say. I've really enjoyed getting to know you, spending time with you, and... well, I can't deny that I've developed feelings for you."

The rooftop seemed to hold its breath as Mirio's confession hung in the air. He watched (Y/N) intently, his heart pounding in anticipation of her response.

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of (Y/N)'s lips, and she took a step closer to him. "Mirio, I've felt the same way. Your energy, your kindness, and the way you're unapologetically yourself... It's made me feel drawn to you."

Mirio's smile widened, his confidence returning in full force. "You know, even heroes get nervous sometimes. But if we're both feeling this way, then maybe it's a good kind of nervous."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the rooftop, (Y/N) and Mirio found themselves in a shared moment of understanding. Their laughter mingled with the breeze as they opened up to each other, forging a connection that felt deeper than mere infatuation.

And as he held (Y/N)'s hand, watching the city lights flicker to life, he knew that he had found something truly special—a connection that made even the most confident of heroes embrace the butterflies that love brought.

As the weeks went by, Mirio and (Y/N) continued to spend more time together, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. They faced challenges together, supported each other's dreams, and celebrated each other's successes. Mirio's friends, Nejire and Tamaki, couldn't be happier for him as they watched him bloom in this newfound romance.

Mirio's confidence seemed to have reached new heights, but he still retained his endearing quirks. He'd often surprise (Y/N) with small gestures, like leaving a bouquet of flowers outside her dorm room or sharing a homemade bento during lunch breaks. And while he still occasionally stumbled over his words, (Y/N)'s presence had a calming effect on him that made those moments endearing rather than embarrassing.

One sunny afternoon, Mirio and (Y/N) found themselves strolling through a nearby park. They walked hand in hand, their fingers entwined as they enjoyed each other's company in comfortable silence. The rustling leaves and distant laughter created a soothing backdrop to their thoughts.

"(Y/N)," Mirio began, his voice a gentle murmur, "there's something I've been thinking about."

(Y/N) turned her gaze towards him, her eyes curious and attentive. "What is it, Mirio?"

He stopped walking and faced her, his expression earnest. "I know we've been through a lot, and we've both got big dreams ahead of us. But I can't help picturing a future where we face those challenges together."

(Y/N)'s heart swelled, her smile growing as she looked into Mirio's eyes. "Mirio, I've thought about that too. You bring so much positivity into my life, and I can't imagine taking on the world without you by my side."

Mirio's grin was as bright as the sun, his excitement contagious. "That's great to hear! Because, well, (Y/N), I know this might be a bit sudden, but I've been wondering... Would you consider being my partner?"

(Y/N)'s eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a rush of warmth and affection for Mirio, and the answer was clear in her mind. "Mirio, I'd love to be your partner."

As their hands tightened around each other, Mirio's joy was palpable. They stood there, two individuals in a park, sharing a moment that felt like the beginning of a beautiful journey.

From that day forward, Mirio and (Y/N) embraced their partnership with unwavering determination. They continued to grow together, overcoming obstacles and creating cherished memories along the way. Mirio's charisma and (Y/N)'s radiant smile formed a formidable team, a testament to the strength of their connection.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the grounds of U.A. High School. As (Y/N) chatted with her classmates in Class 1-B, a sense of excitement filled the air. There was an upcoming joint training exercise with Class 1-A, and everyone was buzzing with anticipation.

In a quieter corner of the classroom, (Y/N)'s friends Kendo, Tetsutetsu, and Monoma were engaged in a hushed conversation. They shared curious glances, their voices lowered as they exchanged thoughts.

"(Y/N) seems really happy lately, doesn't she?" Kendo remarked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Tetsutetsu nodded, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, I've noticed that too. She's been all smiles."

Monoma leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I have a feeling there's something she's not telling us."

The others exchanged intrigued looks, their curiosity piqued. Just as they were about to delve deeper into their theories, the classroom door swung open, and (Y/N) entered with a bright smile.

"Hey, guys!" she greeted cheerfully, taking her seat.

Kendo raised an eyebrow playfully. "You seem to be in an especially good mood today, (Y/N). Anything you'd like to share?"

(Y/N) chuckled, a hint of secrecy in her eyes. "Oh, you know, just enjoying life."

Tetsutetsu leaned forward, his grin widening. "Come on, spill the beans! What's making you so happy?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her cheeks slightly pink. "Well, there is something I wanted to tell you all..."

Monoma leaned in, his interest evident. "Ooh, juicy secrets! We're all ears."

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her gaze steady as she met her friends' curious looks. "I've been seeing someone."

The room fell silent for a brief moment, the surprise evident on their faces. Then, Tetsutetsu burst out laughing, nearly falling out of his chair. "No way! (Y/N), you sly dog!"

Kendo grinned, her eyes wide with amusement. "And you've been keeping it a secret from us?"

Monoma smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure whoever this person is must be quite special."

(Y/N) chuckled, her cheeks growing warmer. "Actually, he is."

As her friends bombarded her with questions and playful teasing, (Y/N) found herself explaining her relationship with Mirio Togata, a third-year student. Their surprise was palpable, but it quickly turned into genuine happiness for her.

"Wait, you're dating a third-year?" Tetsutetsu exclaimed, his grin never faltering. "That's impressive, (Y/N)!"

Kendo nodded in agreement. "He must be someone pretty amazing if he caught your attention."

Monoma leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Well, I have to say, I did not see that coming. But I'm genuinely happy for you, (Y/N)."

As the conversation continued, (Y/N) felt a sense of warmth and camaraderie among her friends. Their initial shock had quickly given way to support, and she appreciated the genuine happiness they felt for her.

As the joint training exercise approached, (Y/N) knew that Mirio's presence would undoubtedly pique the curiosity of Class 1-B even further. But with the unwavering support of her friends by her side, she was ready to face whatever surprises the future held, both in and out of the classroom.

The day of the joint training exercise arrived, and the atmosphere at U.A. was electric with excitement. Class 1-A and Class 1-B gathered on the training grounds, ready to face off in a friendly competition that would put their skills to the test. As (Y/N) joined her Class 1-B teammates, she couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

Mirio had been a topic of curiosity and conversation among her friends in Class 1-B ever since they found out about their relationship. (Y/N) knew that today, they would finally get to see the charismatic third-year hero in action, and she couldn't wait to see their reactions.

As the training exercise began, the participants showcased their Quirks and strategies, each team determined to outwit and outperform the other. (Y/N) and her friends fought with passion, their teamwork and coordination evident as they worked together to achieve their goals.

In the midst of the action, (Y/N)'s eyes briefly met Mirio's from across the field. He flashed her a confident smile, a silent reassurance that boosted her spirits. She knew that he was cheering her on, even from a distance.

During a break between rounds, (Y/N) found herself catching up with her friends. Kendo, Tetsutetsu, and Monoma were huddled together, discussing their observations from the ongoing matches.

"Have you seen that third-year student from Class 1-A?" Monoma exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement. "He's like a whirlwind out there!"

Kendo nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he's incredibly fast and skilled. I heard he's one of the top students in their class."

Tetsutetsu grinned, nudging (Y/N) playfully. "Hey, (Y/N), you must know him pretty well, right?"

(Y/N) chuckled, her cheeks slightly pink. "Yeah, you could say that."

Monoma's eyes lit up with mischief. "Is he as amazing as they say?"

(Y/N) couldn't help but smile. "Even more so. He's not just an incredible hero, but an amazing person too."

As the training exercise continued, (Y/N) watched as Mirio's team showcased their teamwork and strategy. His charisma and leadership were evident as he coordinated his team's actions and utilized his Quirk with precision.

During the final round of the exercise, (Y/N) found herself face-to-face with Mirio's team. Their friendly competition brought a spark of excitement to the air, and as they clashed in a display of Quirk abilities, (Y/N) couldn't help but admire Mirio's skills from a different perspective.

After the exercise concluded, (Y/N) and her friends reconvened, their adrenaline still pumping from the intense matches. Kendo turned to (Y/N) with a grin. "So, how does it feel to be dating such an impressive hero?"

(Y/N) laughed, her heart warmed by their curiosity and camaraderie. "It feels pretty great, honestly."

Tetsutetsu clapped (Y/N) on the back with a grin. "Well, we're lucky to have a connection to someone like him."

Monoma smirked playfully. "Just make sure to give us some juicy hero insights now and then."

As they shared laughter and stories, (Y/N) felt a sense of belonging and friendship among her Class 1-B companions. Their support and genuine curiosity about her relationship with Mirio reminded her that even in the midst of hero training and competition, the bonds of friendship were strong.

And as the sun set over the training grounds, casting a warm glow over the scene, (Y/N) knew that her journey at U.A. was enriched not only by her own experiences but by the friendships and love that had blossomed along the way.

In the weeks following the joint training exercise, (Y/N)'s relationship with Mirio continued to thrive. Their shared moments of laughter, support, and adventure brought them closer together, and they reveled in each other's company whenever they could steal a few moments away from their busy hero training schedules.

One sunny afternoon, as (Y/N) walked through the U.A. campus, lost in her thoughts, she was interrupted by a voice she recognized all too well.

"Hey, (Y/N)! Wait up!"

Turning around, she saw Mirio jogging toward her, his bright smile lighting up his face.

"Hey, Mirio!" she greeted, a smile of her own forming.

He slowed to a stop in front of her, his gaze full of excitement. "I've got a surprise for you. How would you like to go on a mini-adventure today?"

(Y/N)'s curiosity was piqued. "A surprise adventure? I'm intrigued. What do you have in mind?"

Mirio grinned, his eyes sparkling. "It's a secret, but I promise it'll be a lot of fun. Are you up for it?"

(Y/N) couldn't resist Mirio's infectious enthusiasm. "Of course! Lead the way."

They set off on their adventure, their laughter and easy banter filling the air as they walked through the city streets. Mirio's playful nature and (Y/N)'s genuine curiosity created a perfect balance, and they found joy in the simplest of moments.

After a short while, they arrived at a local amusement park, its colorful attractions and lively atmosphere creating a sense of excitement. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in delight as she took in the sights.

"You brought me to an amusement park?" she exclaimed, her excitement palpable.

Mirio grinned, nodding. "I thought it would be a fun way to spend the day together. Plus, who can resist roller coasters and cotton candy?"

As they explored the park, (Y/N) and Mirio enjoyed the thrill of rides, the indulgence of sweet treats, and the shared laughter that echoed around them. The day was filled with moments of exhilaration and connection, and they found themselves letting go of their worries and responsibilities, if only for a little while.

Later in the day, as the sun began to set, (Y/N) and Mirio found themselves on a Ferris wheel. The view from the top was breathtaking, the city lights painting a picture of beauty and serenity.

(Y/N) leaned against the side of the carriage, her gaze fixed on the panorama before her. "This is amazing, Mirio."

Mirio glanced at her, a soft smile on his lips. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. (Y/N), there's something I wanted to say."

(Y/N) turned to him, her eyes curious. "What is it?"

He took a deep breath, his expression earnest. "Ever since we started spending time together, my life has been brighter and more meaningful. You've brought so much joy into my world, and I can't imagine a future without you in it."

(Y/N)'s heart swelled, her gaze locked onto his as she held her breath.

Mirio continued, his voice unwavering. "I know we're still young, and there's so much ahead of us. But I wanted you to know that I'm falling in love with you, (Y/N)."

Tears of happiness welled in (Y/N)'s eyes as she took in Mirio's heartfelt words. "Mirio, I'm falling in love with you too."

As the Ferris wheel slowly descended, they shared a tender kiss, their connection deepening in the midst of the magical moment. The amusement park around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the love that had blossomed between them.

Their adventure had brought them closer, reinforcing the strength of their feelings and the depth of their bond. And as they continued to enjoy the rides, the laughter, and the shared moments of wonder, (Y/N) and Mirio knew that their journey together was only beginning, with endless adventures and a love that would continue to grow and flourish.

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fe-fictions · 1 year

Note

I am just OBSESSED WITH DIAMANT, KAGETSU AND ALFRED !!! Would you mind writing your morning after stories for them pls ? Or at least one of them, the one you prefer ! Have a nice evening ! :)

(WE ARE STARTING OUR FE ENGAGE STORIES WITH A BIG THREE PARTER!! ENJOY!!)

Alfred: For the golden retriever prince, waking up beside you is something that is jarring and enthralling. He’s practically over the moon, recounting the previous night’s events.

The whirlwind wedding, the joy on all your friends’ faces, and most importantly, the adoration that mirrored in your eyes just as poignantly as it did in his.

It was a magical day from start to finish, but the prince was far happier when he woke up and found you sound asleep beside him. He was practically shocked by it.

To think that he had actually married you. He confessed to you, you told him you loved him too, and…and how here you were…it made him start to freak out.

But it was a freak out in a good way. At least, that’s what he thought. Alfred smiled to himself, giddy and completely unsure of what he was going to do next. He reached out, brushing his fingers along your cheek, unable to fight the joy that swelled in his chest.

It was real…you were wearing his ring, he had the Pact Ring glittering on his finger, and you looked so, so cute when you were sleeping! He just wasn’t sure what he was going to do with himself.

He worries about waking you up, but then he remembers that it’s the Somniel; it’s rare you’d wake up on your own unless someone came in to rouse you with a loud but tasteful announcement.

Then he remembered that someone wakes you up every day.

Alfred, being the dutiful (new) husband that he is, quickly slips from the bed, wraps a sheet around his waist, and hurries to the doors to make sure they’re locked.

After all, it would be awfully inappropriate for the Divine Dragon to be seen so very, very exposed….and he wasn’t sure h ewanted any of his comrades to see him in such a state, either.

Satisfied that the door was firmly locked, Alfred nods to himself and turns on his heel to return to you.

At least, until he looks back at his new wife and discovers that you are awake and rubbing at your eyes.

“Oh, no!” Alfred eeks out, “You’re supposed to be sleeping!”

“You got out of bed.” You yawned, propped up on your elbow. Alfred’s shoulders drop and he returns to bed, falling face first onto the mattress by your legs.

“I was trying to make sure that nobody would come to wake you up, like usual!”

“Well, considering what day it was yesterday…I don’t think any of them would be silly enough to try.” You smiled softly, petting your sweet husband’s soft, blonde hair. “Maybe Clanne and Framme…Vander, even…but they’d figure it out pretty quick.”

“I-I know.” He blushed, peeking up at you, “I just…wanted to make sure! I’d be beside myself if somebody came in and saw you like this.”

“But you wouldn’t mind if they saw you?” You quirked an eyebrow, teasing. Quickly he pulled himself up on the bed, scrambling to correct himself.

“No, no, not at all!! I just meant that…I mean, you’re the Divine Dragon!! I’m a prince, sure, but you’re the Divine Dragon!”

“When it’s just the two of us, though…I’m just Alear.” You reminded him softly, “You’re not going to refer to me by that title all the time, are you? Even when we’re alone?”

Alfred buried his face in his hands. “This is not how I saw our first morning together going.”

You laughed, pulling him into your arms. As if he wasn’t already blushing enough; it was a different situation entirely when wrapped in the open (naked) embrace of his loving wife.

“No? It’s precisely how I saw it going.”

“That’s because you take great joy in messing with me.” He said with a sharp sigh, though there was no malice detectable. He instead relaxed in your embrace, resting his head against your chest.

“I guess I do tease you a little too much, huh?” You mused softly, “Should I go easy on you, today?”

“Maybe not the whole day. I doubt you could hold back that long!” He joked, relaxing in your arms as you laced your fingers into his hair, playing with the soft strands.

“You’re awfully gracious, Alfred. But I’ll behave myself. If only for today.” You promised to him, and your morning continued in the hazy beams of morning light, the beginning of your new life together starting off just as you both hoped (though with a little more messing around than expected).

------------------------------

Diamant: He is staring at you with a reverent fondness, drinking in every single detail. You, in kind, were privy to this when you first woke, though your eyes had remained closed for a long while.

It was strange to find him so conemplative, but it was clear that the adoration he held in his heart for you was unmatched.

The Pact Ring glimmered on his finger, adorned upon the hand that now held yours, linked together tightly in the soft light of dawn.

He is practically beaming at you; he is known for having the loudest laugh in the army, but among his closest family and loved ones, he is known for having the most precious of smiles.

The high prince of Brodia is a sight to behold, and one you haven’t been able to tear your eyes off of since the day you met. But ever since your wedding day nearly 24 hours earlier…well, let’s just say there’s nowhere you’d rather be looking.

“What are you thinking, Alear?”

“Me?” Your gaze flickers away from his, just for a moment. But quickly you return, albeit a little more shyly. “I just…nothing.”

“It must be something.” His finger hooks your chin, gently turning your attention fully back to his. “What’s going on in the great dragon’s mind?”

“Really, it’s…it’s nothing. I’m just…I was just thinking about how lucky I really am.”

At this, his eyebrows rose with great interest. “You’re the lucky one?”

“Of course I am…I mean, you’re the one who agreed to marry me.” You remind him, running a finger over the ring that glittered so handsomely on him.

Diamant shook his head, “If I recall correctly, I believe we proposed to each other. I’m not the only one with a ring on my finger.”

“Well, yes, but…you’re my husband now. I don’t think anyone else could ever be so lucky to call you their spouse.”

“And I could say the very same about you.” He countered, bringing your hand to his lips. You blushed at his sweet gesture, but it is no more intimate than the two of you lying there, quite bare beneath the thin sheets of the Divine Dragon’s bed.

“To think we have the rest of our lives together.” You sighed softly, snuggling into his side. Your hand fell to his chest, listening to the comforting thump of his heartbeat. “What are we going to do with ourselves?”

“I’m sure we’ll find plenty of ways to fill our time. Spending mornings like this is certainly an excellent start.”

You smiled up at him, earning a kiss on your forehead.

The morning was a sweet, joyous preview of what was to come. Only happiness awaited you, for the rest of your days.

------------------------------

Kagetsu: He was practically beside himself with glee, the morning after your first night together. He had always deeply valued your friendship, but when it blossomed into something more…oh, it was exquisite. And the fact that you reciprocated his feelings made him feel like the luckiest, happiest man alive.

Kagetsu’s family could not attend your wedding, but you did endeavor to spend your honeymoon with them. The wedding ceremony was lavish and festive, a more than welcome celebration after the hells you’d all gone through during the war against your father.

But now…all was at peace, and you were bonded with your lover for a life of eternal happiness.

The wedding ended late that night, and Kagetsu was glad to escort you from the Somniel to his hometown. Prince Fogado graciously offered the swiftest of Solm’s pegasi, and before long, you and your new husband were arriving at his secluded home.

His family did not know you were both there yet, though. That was by design; you wanted to spend your precious first moments with Kagetsu alone. Just the two of you, for a little while.

The rest of the world would be able to greet you on your debut later. But for that night, and the morning that had followed, it was just yours and Kagetsu’s little world.

A beautiful world that had the handsome swordmaster with his hair down and tousled, spilling all about his face whil he snuggled up to you.

“So…are we going to take the morning off only? Or are we going to take the whole day before we tell anyone we’re here?” You asked your husband, breaking the dreamy silence of the inn.

Kagetsu hummed, feigning deep thought, all while he nuzzled into your chest, wrapping his arms around you. To think your new husband was so clingy; it was utterly adorable.

“Well, at first, I thought it would be best to greet them right away. But now that the morning has come…is it wrong that I wish to spend the day with you all to myself? Just the two of us. Perhaps with the hot spring bath attached to the room…and in the dining room. They have excellent onigiri that you simply must try, here!”

You laughed softly, petting Kagetsu’s fluffy hair as he blurted out his plans as they came. “So I’ll take that as a yes, we are taking the day for ourselves?”

“I think so, yes.” He lifted his head to grin at you, giving you a soft squeeze. “I do not wish to spend my time with anyone else, today. Just the two of us…husband and wife!”

“And hot spring…and onigiri.” You added, making him chuckle. Kagetsu rolled over so that you were lifted on top of him, holding you gently at your rather exposed waist.

“I wish for you to experience my home, while we have this time to ourselves. It is a very special thing, getting to welcome you into my traditions. I hope that you will enjoy them; and if you do, I am excited to see such special moments between the two of us.”

“My, what a sweet talker.” You shook your head, tapping your fingertips along his chest. You could feel his little heartbeat pick up when he met your sparkling eyes. “Then, shall we get up and start our day? There’s much to be done, it sounds like.”

His grip tightened, pausing the dancing of your fingers.

“Perhaps…we can wait a little longer. I would like to enjoy the closeness with my sweet wife a little longer.”

“Only a little?”

Kagetsu swallowed thickly, the blush quickly blossoming across his face when your mischievous grin reappeared from the night before.

“If the lady wishes, I suppose we could take longer than ‘a little’.”

“I do wish it,” You kiss him sweetly, which was all he needed. “I want to thoroughly enjoy you, Kagetsu.”

The romantic morning was the perfect start to the rest of your precious marriage to Kagetsu. Eventually you were able to drag him out of bed, where he could show you the luxurious wonder of the hot spring bath, and the delight that came with the delicious riceballs he was so obsessed with.

His family was thrilled to meet you once you were able to peel Kage away from the inn. His nervousness at introducing you to the family was quickly replaced by how proud he was of his dear, dragon wife.

They were quick to welcome you, and you were even quicker to enjoyhis family and all the new world they had to offer you.

Truly, the two of you could not possibly be happier.

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afreakingdork · 5 months

Text

Weak Spot - Chapter 49

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

What would you do if you walked in on Donnie like how @inky-spikes drew him for this week's chapter art?

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Excuse me while I get incredibly mushy; you may known my rise origins, disastisfied with content, setting out to write my own love story, but did you know that I had never properly interacted with a fandom before? Why would I? I'm the type of person to only want to do what i want. This doesn't mean I'm not open to possibiltise, I love a good time saver and the truth, but most often, I just stay my funky little coruse. Then I received a piece of fanart.

I've always told myself, if you get fanart then you've made it. Well, I didn't know how much I had made it when I started talking to @unknownfanartist

It is not hyperbole when I say that I can credit everything about where I am now to my Contessa. Sure, I have my writing, but she gave me my community. Her friendship and the many others I hold dear now, she was the one who gave me every single one of those oppurtunties.

How does someone pay that back?

I've written her fics, is that enough?

It never feels like it.

I wouldn't be surrounded by anywhere near as much love if it wasn't for her. I wouldn't have found the people who bring me joy if it wasn't for her. My rise obsession probably wouldn't even be where it is today without her.

How do you pay that back?

I can't.

I can only use my words to show and say how incredibly thankful I am that you came out of the woodwork to draw little old me a scene from my silly little turtle fic. Contessa, I not only dedicate this chapter to you, but I have written it as an homage. I've jammed it with as many refrences to your work as possible while also slipping in some of your usual mannerisms.

Merry Christmas and thank you always.

P.S. @morning-sun-brah that includes you too because you opened the Pragma Elysium gates. I remember fondly waiting on pins and poodles to await your little updates. I have an ode to you here as well!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: bra removal, clit rubbing, breast teasing

You were shamelessly staring at your boyfriend.

In his usual spot on the couch, he was hunched forward in a way that made you worry about even his softened shell. With your phone on one knee, he had his tech gauntlet folded up to his face where code was spinning around his wrist. On your device's screen, a battle was flicking and flashing with all sorts of attacks. Attached by some unseen cord, data from the game was being sent right to Donnie’s gauntlet where he was studying it.

You adored him.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t care about video games or understood anything you were talking about; he was a trooper. When you’d mistakenly gotten into this mobile game for its characters, he’d listened without judgment as you yammered on about the designs. Every time you thrust your phone into his face to show him something, he indulged your delight. When you left him for hours on end as you combed through the story line, he simply busied himself with other things while only occasionally disturbing you to remind you to hydrate or something similar.

Not quite as obsessed as Coral, who’d already spent an obscene amount of money on the game. You kept playing relegated to once a night for sanity's sake. Your plan had worked for about a week until it became increasingly necessary for you to put forth actual effort into the battles if you wanted to keep progressing. One too many rules and all sorts of caveats, you’d gotten by on sheer luck until it ran out. With Coral barely able to keep her mouth shut about what was to come, you’d been forced to buckle down and study.

Scheduling the evening to figure it out, Donnie was buried in a project designing something on his own and hadn’t minded in the slightest. Armed with the wiki, you began the tedious study of combat logistics. Cramming for what felt like hours, you adjusted your team in all the recommended ways and restarted said battle only for it to yield the same result. Having back-ups prepared, you switched around your character’s positions and began anew only for the timer to run out even sooner. Unable to accept what was happening, you reverted to the original team. In a mystified stupor, you watched a greater failure and somehow worse result. Spurned, you spent the next 30 minutes in an ever deepening spiral as your losses piled on one after the other.

It didn't make sense.

You did everything right.

You followed all the suggestions.

By the time you scrambled over to Donnie, you were sure the look on your face was a horrified one.

It thankfully hadn’t worried him, but he’d abandoned his work to help you immediately.

All found him sitting, examining the game’s code, and mumbling something about DPS and buffs.

You wanted to kiss him nearly as much as you needed to win.

The latter winning out by the tiniest margin, you watched on with building affection until he turned toward you.

“While the damage ratio may appear the same, the actual amount dealt by your opponent is being randomly generated within a certain range.”

“So the RNG gods are frowning upon me?” You sulked.

He hummed with some altruistic form of sympathy.

The current match ended with another loss. “I guess I’ll just run it over and over until I get the right number.”

“Or…” Donnie flicked his data wheel and then hit restart on the fight.

You sat up and watched as the same attack patterns went by, but this time you were dominating.

Donnie tapped the screen to dispel a few debuffs and you won.

“Yes!” You leapt and he caught you while lifting your phone out of the way. “Thank you! Thank you!”

He allowed you to ply him with kisses. “I can adjust the code accordingly.”

“Cheating?” You asked with your lips still to his cheek.

“You won’t be caught. A few imperceptible lines.”

“Done!” You removed yourself to give him space.

He chuckled and brought back up his screens to apply whatever he had in mind.

Back to watching him, you couldn’t help but muse over how his deviousness had been watered down. This once wretched villain now hacked mobile games for his love and your heart overflowed. He had done undeniable bad, but in only a year he came to lavish in his choice. Living finally came to him easily and you were overjoyed to be a participant of that journey.

“Hey, Don.”

“Hm?” He had a small smile on his lips as he ran a new battle and studied the metrics it produced.

“Can I be the villain?”

“Of course.” He spun his code. “What do you covet, my dearest? We’ll put on a great heist.”

“I want to steal from you.”

He still didn’t look as the battle was won once again. “Something other than my heart?”

You had to put your face in your hands.

He was in a good mood which proved fatal for your heart.

Peering between your fingers found his smile spread wide. “You goofball, that’s not what I meant.”

“Done. Do tell me if you have any other issues.” He offered you your phone. “How then?”

“Thanks.” You hugged your device to your chest. “You like it when I pull one over on you.”

He slowed, clearly going through his memories.

“What better way…” Giving your game a parting goodbye, you left it on the cushions in favor of crawling towards him. “… then at your own profession?”

He sank into the couch to receive you. “In no demeaning way, in a no hold’s barred scenario, I’m not sure you’d be able to.”

“No?” Lifting onto your knees, you straddled him.

You saw his fingers twitch from where his arms laid out across the back of the couch.

You cradled his jaw and inched forward until your lips almost brushed his. “All the times I deceived you?”

“Underestimation.” He murmured, resisting to close the gap.

“Afraid?” You tilted your head and ghosted your mouth against his.

“I won’t fall for goading.” One of his arms slipped from its perch, but didn’t come around you.

“Test it then. What do you have to lose?” You gave him a protogenic kiss.

“Nothing I suppose…” He chased you for another chaste press.

You nosed along his jaw. “I’ll try to steal from you.”

“Everything mine is yours.” He sighed contented.

You pulled back to stare at him dully. “Roleplay.”

“You make a captivating honeypot.” He caught your hips and yanked them down for a grind.

You chewed your lip as your eyes rolled back. “N-not that.”

“Explain.” His grip loosened, but you felt his fingers at the ready.

“A game of keep away. See how much you still have in you.”

“You don’t believe I’ve gone soft.” He studied you.

“No, but I’m your weak spot right? How will you fare against me?”

His expression opened up for genuine surprise. “Fascinating…”

“See what I mean now?”

“Yes.” He urged you off his lap and you reluctantly tucked in beside him. “I won’t be going all out.”

“Worried about my safety?” You asked.

“Those aren’t terms. That’s a fact.” He adjusted his pants.

You flicked your gaze down to check what he'd fixed and he tapped a digit to your nose.

You swatted at him and he chuckled. “Clear mind. If someone were to steal from me, I’d employ all means necessary to get it back.”

You nodded remembering he’d mentioned something about that when revealing his backstory.

“I could torture you, but in ways you already know.”

“Not edging!” You whined, throwing your head back.

“The prize is sex then. Not a means to be utilized.” He offered his hand.

You took it with a squeeze. “Okay… Is this just an ‘if I win’ sort of bargain?”

He looked up to the ceiling in thought. “Let’s both win.”

“Even if I’m not successful?” You leaned your head against the couch and stroked his thumb. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Never.” He returned and seared an intensity into your eyes. “You’ll have gone up against me and survived. That’s clout enough.”

“I’ll be able to go to the Hidden City and brag at some bar?”

“You would most certainly be taken to meet someone’s boss if so.”

The honesty with which he’d said that9 brought your head up. “Oh…”

“What a way to meet Big Mama.” He rolled his eyes.

“Not doing that.” You gave an awkward laugh.

“A dry spell to enhance the achievement?”

“No sex until… when?” You worried over the last time such a restriction was implemented.

He pressed your hand open to pair up his fingers to yours. “Two waves. One week to steal from me, we rejoice as soon as you do. Then another if you can keep it from me, broken if I find it.”

Giving a Vulcan salute to match him, you opened and closed the ‘V.’ “I win, you win.”

“Even, no harm. We stave off the pain of last time.”

Trying to foresee pitfalls, you slid off his pads to thread your fingers. “It sounds good… Is there something specific I should take?”

“Your choice.” He dipped in for a quick peck. “It’s all yours regardless.”

“Menace.” You whispered against him.

His smile said he agreed.

“Wanna start after a little…?” You pulled on his hand.

“Very much so. Yes!” He shifted the tide to pull you to him.

Donnie was in the shower.

It had only been a few hours since the heist begun and, having spent most of it in bed, he’d left you to rest while he washed up. Waiting to hear the telltale sound of the shower hitting a body, you snatched the closest thing to you and stowed away into the kitchen. Slamming the tap there on, you ducked down below the counter.

“Shelly?”

A single curious buzz came from your tech gauntlet.

“Mess with Donnie’s implants!”

A confirming buzz responded.

“Okay… Uh…” Turning over Donnie’s much larger gauntlet, you were sure you had previously seen it in some kind of smaller form. “Darling Protocol… shrink?”

The metal sat useless in your hands.

“Darling Protocol small!”

You shook the long band.

“Shorten! Reduce! Condense! Little! Mini!”

Staring, you resisted the urge to chuck it out a window.

Your wrist buzzed with interest.

“No, I have to do this. I feel bad enough I already asked for your help, but the stupid protocol is voice activated.”

More buzzing occurred and you could tell it was S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. wanting to know what was going on.

“It’s a… game we’re playing. I’m the villain and I’m trying to steal Donnie’s tech gauntlet, but it’s too big!”

Your band was silent and you ignored it in favor of the frustrating one.

“I don’t understand… How does this thing get all compact?”

Upon the last syllable, Donnie’s gauntlet shrank to the size of a watch.

“Synonym stickler.” You grouched before raising up.

“Darling protocol…” You tried to think of the way he’d say it. “Disengage tracker.”

Nothing happened, but you almost figured it wouldn’t.

“Oh, Darling Protocol sleep mode!”

With its holographic display, it looked like nothing more than a glorified bracelet. You couldn’t remember having ever seen Donnie charge the thing. It seemed indestructible and waterproof, but he had removed it on several occasions as you did yours. Since the apartment was fully under his command, he only really needed the device when he left.

“Can he track you now…?” You wondered, turning the object over.

Buzz. Buzz.

“You’re not supposed to help-! Wait, I got it?”

Buzz.

“You’re not doing it, right? Swear to me. I need to be the one.”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“Yes or no!”

It was impressive how much sass S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. could inject into a single vibration.

“… Yes you’re doing it or…?”

Donnie’s computer lit up.

Walking over to it, you saw S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s little icon waiting there with annoyed impatience and a taping foot. “Hey, you updated your avatar to look like your new body!”

‘Thanks for noticing. You like?’ The little avatar did a twirl.

“I do, it’s very cute.”

He gave a gentlemanly bow.

“Did you help me?”

‘Now you ask a yes or no question?’ His lids lowered with put on irritation.

“Shelly, please. I’m in a hurry.”

‘And I wasn’t busy? It’s 9:37pm on a Thursday.’

“Oh…” You lowered your gaze and pulled the gauntlet close. “That’s true. I’m sorry.”

His avatar appeared at the bottom of the screen with a wagging finger. ‘It’s a joke. I can be in up to 14 locations at once, no probbles!’

“Only 14?”

He snickered. ‘You’re right. It’s been a while since I last calculated. Should I test it? Dare me!’

“Some other time, I’m really sorry for assuming you’d be at my beck and call…”

‘You didn’t assume wrong, but accepted and, to clarify, I did not tamper. You got the correct bypass.’ He threw his hand up and a little log with a time stamped list of commands last executed appeared.

“Awesome, thank you!”

‘Have fun and fill me in later!’

“Will do!”

He saluted before he disappeared along with the light of the machine.

Looking down over the tidy desk, you scanned the surface. You had seen enough movies to know that hiding something in plain sight was one of the best ways to pull off a grift. It needed to be somewhere that didn’t attract attention and was easily overlooked. Finding nothing where a cylinder of metal could disappear here, you kept your feet moving as you rounded the apartment. Shower still going steady, you felt the urgency as you imagined he was nearly done washing himself off. From the paintings that adorned the walls to the coat rack near the door, nothing appeared right. Ready to return to the kitchen and unearth some rarely used pot, a glimmer of something caught your eye.

Slowing, you stared and had to study the space until you caught the source. Standing at his post stood the astronaut that had been forced back into your possession when you moved in. The metallic film on his visor threw an errant beam, but up close your body shadowed the piece. He hadn’t been altered much since his stay and, in fact, had mostly been forgotten about. A mainstay in the space now, you flipped his little visor up and down a few times to hide his haunting face.

Thinking it over for a moment, you gave a smile before digging your claws into the hinge. With little effort, the plastic snapped off and you set the toy back on the shelf just so. Making several adjustments so he was exactly as he was, you then moved to drop the miniaturized tech gauntlet over his face. It took twice the amount of fiddling, but you eventually got it to sit and turned in a way that looked similar to his true brim. Stepping back, you tried to recreate the light flicker effect, but it wasn’t the same. The metal had a different sheen than the plastic, but you smiled. Deeming it a cute first try, you imagined Donnie would probably find it in the next hour.

With evidence to dispose of, you wandered back to the kitchen long enough to throw the visor away. You imagined you’d at least keep Donnie on his toes with this little stunt and wondered if you should steal something else as a double bluff. Sleep tugged against the thought so you returned to bed with a giddy feeling. The dopamine rush reminded you of your game and you gave into the delusion that it might inspire you. Jumping in, you found dominating the battles to be infinitely more fun. Almost forgetting all about the roleplay, the story in your game finally progressed and you ate up the new dialog until Donnie emerged.

“Your turn.” He spoke casually as he rounded the bed to his side.

“Mhm, in’a minute.” You tapped viciously on your screen to get rid of some little dust bunny enemies zapping HP.

Not seeing as much as hearing, Donnie approached his side table and stopped. “Really?”

“Yeah, almost done.” Clearing the field, there was a burst of text that signaled some victory. “Ah, this is so great. Thanks again!”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You let your phone fall flat on your chest and turned to look at him.

“My gauntlet.”

“Your-” You blinked wide before the recognition struck you. “-what?”

He threw his weight on one hip to stare down at you, bored.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You salvaged a little dismissive persona. “I’m going to shower.”

“Technicality.”

You sat up and threw your legs over the side of the bed.

“This feels…”

He held his pause a little too long so you turned to look over your shoulder.

He was waiting there with a blasé expression. “…uninspired.”

You shrugged.

“Wallet, keys, phone. Infantile.”

“Oh no.” You dulled your voice for faux worry. “You must have misplaced it.”

Donnie sighed before bringing a hand up. “S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. I assume?”

“No.” You gave a sharp retort.

“He leaves a trail.” He raised one of his brows and you watched the whole apartment take on a faint purple light.

Standing and looking over your violet tinted skin, you turned a hand over to hear Donnie make a noise of confusion. “Find your trail?” You exaggerated your own brow at your boyfriend.

“He could have used the door.” Donnie grumbled, walking into the next room.

Knowing that’d be right next to where you’d stashed the gauntlet, you smiled at how you'd gotten the timeline right. Giving right up, you went to take your shower. You sometimes worried about the other tenants, but you loved how your apartment never ran out of hot water. Soaking up all ill gotten glory, you emerged a steamed bun and ambled out in a fluffy towel to find Donnie sitting on the bed with a laptop you’d never seen.

“What are we hacking tonight?” You mused and meant to sit down next to him. With your muscles liquefied, you let yourself fall over and bumped your wet head up against his bare thigh.

He made an irritated noise and jumped. “What did you have him do?”

“Who?” You rolled your head to look at him.

“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.!”

It was a blow to your relaxed form. “I didn’t get Shelly’s help. In fact, I called him up just to tell him that.”

“Then how did you-?” He cut himself off with closed eyes and pinched the bridge of his snout. “Darling Protocol.”

“Took awhile to get the right words. At least you didn’t program the codes in.”

“I’m changing that.” He started furiously typing.

“No, come on!” You playfully whined and grabbed at him.

He leaned away from your touch. “I’ll bind the print outs. I estimate a 24 volume set.”

“What did I even graduate for!?” You bemoaned and wiggled off the bed to get into your pajamas. “Now here's your torture.”

“I’ll print it so small you'll need a magnifying glass.”

“The horror.” Pulling your towel off, you rubbed furiously at your hair. “What are you doing?”

“Locating it.”

“Fun. I assume there’s trackers in everything, but me. Is there one in the couch?”

The only indication Donnie heard you was a little smile quirking the corner of his lips.

Leaving him to his task, you finished getting ready for bed and, as you were about to tuck yourself in, you found him sat in the exact the same way. “You gonna sleep?”

He stopped by extending his fingers and holding them over the keyboard. “True.”

“What?”

He closed his laptop and turned to you with a heated stare. “For the time being, you’ve earned your first prize.”

You giggled as he came in with kneading fingers to your waist and a kiss to your cheek. “You’re wonderful, but can I bank it?”

He kissed a few more times until you would relent with your lips. “Suit yourself.”

“Do I get to keep it after you find it?”

He perked up and released you. “It’s close.”

You rolled your eyes into laying down. “Sure it is, Don. Answer please.”

“It’s… not?” He stared you down.

“Donnie.” Your pillow was beckoning you.

“This was not discussed.”

“Banking?”

“Multiple thefts.”

“I figured it balanced.” You snuggled down into the sheet. “Each one you find is a win for you too.”

He made a satisfied sound as he thought it over.

“Goodnight kiss if you’re going to stay up and obsess?”

Holding on for a few more seconds, he collapsed down beside you with enough force that it bounced your head from your pillow.

“Hey!”

“I suppose it’s no rush. I have the entire time you’re at work.”

“Mhm.” Your lids felt heavy.

He kissed your forehead and moved the laptop in his grasp. “I have to put this up.”

“Where’d you get that, anyway?”

“Mm, don’t worry about it.” He almost nuzzled your hairline, but found it damp so he hopped out of bed to put the laptop away.

Waking first found you oddly calm. Consciousness came comfortably and recognition over what had occurred the previous night drifted to you. Capturing it with open eyes, you watched your partner’s sleeping form before dragging yourself out of bed. You’d make him breakfast for a change and, in only a slightly hunched stupor, you shuffled over to the kitchen. It was there, with the hidden object just across the room, that you had to keep reminding yourself over and over not to look. Checking would make it obvious. You needed to own this. You’d stolen from him, successfully so far, and that was the whole point of being bad.

You had said you wanted to be a villain.

Was that relegated to one nefarious act?

Pulling out a frying pan to make scrambled eggs, you pondered this query.

Villains were supposed to be evil, but Donnie had never struck you as truly bad. Doing a mental timer as the metal heated up, you folded yourself against the counter to stare at the egg carton. Wondering about the colloquial bad egg, it wasn’t something you could always tell by looking. One that was truly rotten would smell, but that didn’t mean all the bad ones stank. Instead, there were tests, things like floating it in water or getting it all the way to your lips. Nothing in the world was so black and white.

Flicking your gaze to the clock, it was about time so you spread a bit of butter to prevent sticking. Adding the eggs in, one crack at a time, you stirred them to make the scramble. A bit of toast sounding like a nice addition, you switched course. Lowering the heat and you left the eggs for a new appliance. Getting a toaster, you slotted the bread in and looked back over the bar. Clear across the apartment through sheer curtains, your egg was still tucked into his carton. Mostly a cozy lump, putting him in water revealed little other than it calmed him like a balm.

Life was the test of proclivities.

Everyone came in all kinds.

The world shades of moral grey and you fit into that same bland color palette.

Slowing at the thought where you hadn’t moved, you gave an amused puff of air.

How did you fit into all that?

You had been called good and bad over the years with a varying sense of hyperbole. For the average person, you imagined this wasn’t the sort of thing people applied to themselves. They read it in stories where the characters were exaggerated and it was usually clear who the antagonist was. The balancing scales weighing your heart to a feather was mythos.

Turning around with the toast giving an almost done, you scoured the cabinet as quietly as you could. Slipping a bowl free with only a minor clink of ceramic, you set it down and riffled for your cereal. The type of food Donnie often chided you as not actually being suited for breakfast, you poured a bowl and unplugged the toaster just as it seemed it would pop. Switching between tasks, you plated up the eggs meant for two on one plate with the toast and then splashed a healthy amount of milk into the cereal bowl. Situated, you then sauntered back to bed and over to your partner's side.

He was facing outward which helped as you parted the curtains with your plate. Holding it up towards his snout, you watched the tiniest wrinkle as the scent of breakfast invaded his dreams. Within moments he was blinking awake and humming with slurred affection over you having made breakfast.

“I’ll leave yours here.” You told him warmly.

He hummed having been given the space to wake and you left the cereal behind to go eat your eggs in the living room.

You had just about gotten through your usual portion when you heard a snort of disdain. Trying not to laugh around the tines of the fork, you traded it for a point of toast.

“Y/N.”

“Mhm?”

Silence chased you and you put on your best pious pose as you waited for him to approach. It took a moment, but he appeared, standing nude and with the bowl clasped in one hand. Flowing a gentle current of irritation, he waited for some type of explanation.

“It’ll get soggy.” You offered.

“It’s already soggy.” He bit back.

“Shame. You were too slow I guess.”

“You didn’t even leave me a spoon.”

“No?” You scooped another forkful of eggs into your mouth.

“Your ploys continue to be childish.” He turned to the kitchen and disposed of his breakfast.

“Crazy these kid games are landing, huh?” You chomped down on toast.

There was another minor bout of silence before he turned the tap on.

You were assaulted by your boyfriend as soon as you got home from work. Squeaking at the sudden intrusion, you almost thought it was a hug before his hands roved right into your clothes. Trying to fend him off as you were still half in the hallway, you were no match for his speed and strength.

“Donnie, what are you doing?!” Your voice warbled as he yanked your shirt straight up your body. “Stop, stop!!”

“Where is it?!” He growled, tugging your shirt down to bring you to his squat eye level.

“Where-ah!” Sliding into your pants he squeezed your ass cheeks. “Q-quit!!!”

Several angry clicks sounded in your ear until he lurched backwards, ready to pounce again in a moment’s notice. “My gauntlet! You took it with you! On your person!”

“I didn’t!” The reply popped out of you before you could grab it.

“It’s not here!” His eyes continued to scan you.

“It’s not-?!” You might have felt confusion if your blood pressure hadn't plummeted at the sight of downy stuffing on the ground.

Stepping forward and pushing your angrily clacking partner out of the way, you found the apartment turned upside down. From the couch, where he’d ripped it to shreds, to the kitchen, where all the cabinets were open and leaking, you knew the bedroom had to be in a similar state.

A short, rattling breath emerged from your lips as you did a slow rotation. Not hooking on it, but passing by, you saw the little astronaut standing a proud protector on his lone shelf where he hadn’t been disturbed.

The spaceman had failed at one job and succeeded in another.

Some protector.

“Donnie, what the fuck!?” You shoved him.

“Where is it!?” He was immobile.

“That’s the point!” You shoved him again and he relented a single step for your sake.

“Yes, but it doesn’t make sense! You had no planning! You had no time! Without S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s help how could you have-!?”

You slammed your palms into his plastron over and over.

He made a few irritated snorts until he let you push him back several steps.

“You are being such a jerk!”

A light bulb went off for him. “You did plan.” He walked away and you were left to stew with your coat hanging off one shoulder. “You proposed the scenario. You must have been plotting. For how long?” He walked up to his computer where all sorts of models were running.

“It was spur of the moment!”

Without a keyboard, lines of information were being written at an alarming rate.

“Donatello!”

“Depending on the length of time you had, any number of scenarios could have been implemented. If I take into account-”

Slamming the door behind you, you stormed back down the hallway and toward the elevator. “Shelly! Ugh, I know this is last minute and we just talked about it, but…”

Buzz!

“Wanna go get dinner?”

The single vibration nearly rocked off your tech gauntlet off your wrist.

“So being villain was fun for ten whole seconds.” You rolled the liquid in your glass where you were plopped down on S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s couch and had just finished catching him up.

Similarly aerating his wine, he held his goblet up as if he were making a toast. “Dump him!”

You snorted and had to scramble not to spill.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. repeated himself with a cheer that did cause wine to slosh out. Only for him, a mechanical arm appeared out of his back and wiped the liquid straight out of the air before it could fall.

“Woah…” The sound came out of you as your glass neared your lips.

“I’m sorry, but I’m having a blast right now.”

“I can see that.” You chuckled.

“Pizza at a real dirty restaurant, whine session with wine, like this is the thing! I’m doing it!”

“The human thing?” You asked after a sip.

“Yes!” His eyes turned into stars.

“I mean, you’re crushing it.” You turned and looked around what was a quintessential bachelor pad. Though the layout was identical to Donnie’s preference, the rooms themselves looked like movie sets. With a proper clutter budget, clothes were strewn about just so, little knick knacks made the space feel homey and there were even dirty dishes in the sink. “Did you have someone over?”

“Huh? No. Why?”

You gestured around with a sweep of your glass.

“Oh, pfft. That’s all me. I like to mess around and I like the way the space is. Feels like me, ya know?”

You softened. “Yeah.”

“I stole the dishes.” He pointed.

“Why?” You shook your head at how ridiculous he was.

“I don’t wanna clean the kitchen.”

“So, don’t use it!”

“I didn’t!” He chirped.

“You just wanted the sink full.”

“It looked lonely.” He tipped his head, commiserating.

“You know I thought this place was going to be nothing but a charging port.”

“Ew.”

“Right?”

“That is what dad gave me, but I ordered a bunch of stuff as soon as he left.”

“He’s ridiculous.”

“Dump him!”

“No!” You kicked at S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. and he let it connect for a metal thunk. “Ah!”

“Oops.” He leaned forward to study your leg. “You good?”

“No, yeah, sorry. I just forgot cause usually…”

“People dodge.” He snickered. “Not people.” He reminded you and then poured himself over the back of the couch. “See those clothes there.”

You looked where he was pointing. “Sure.”

“None of those fit. Those are just for decoration, but I have been trying new ones since I can now!”

“Fashion show?”

His eyes sparkled and he tossed his glass behind him where it smashed into the wall.

“Shelly!”

“My house, my rules!!!” He screamed as he launched himself, fists in the air, over the couch and into his bedroom.

Modeling several looks from something grungy where he’d smeared black oil under his eyes to something preppy enough for a country club, he was twisting in a simple t-shirt and jeans when he dropped right out of his purchasing process explanation for something else. “So, where’d you hide it?”

“You know.” You were draped over the couch.

“Yeah, but pretend I don’t.”

“That’s a secret.” You grinned.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gasped. “In my own dojo!”

“I know!” You lifted a scandalized hand to your mouth.

“It’s wild though.”

“That he didn’t look there? Yeah.”

“Huh? No, but he kinda did.”

“What do you mean?” You lifted up.

A screen appeared in your face showing Donnie right next to the door in your apartment. Borderline feral and nearly crawling around on all fours, you watched him storm by the astronaut with his head on a constant swivel before he disappeared out of the camera's frame.

You let out a single satisfied laugh. “Dummy.”

“You can barely tell on the feed.”

“It looks good in person too. The only thing is it goes all the way around. If he had moved it, he’d have seen it wasn’t right.” You twirled a finger in demonstration.

“Why’s Major Creeponaut duct taped? Did you try to shove it inside?”

You chuckled. “Nah, that was from our first kiss.”

“So gross!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. screamed at the ceiling. “Tell me everything.”

“Do you want to know or not?” You laughed.

“Not at all. Tell me.” He took a few hopping steps over before he plopped down, legs crossed, in front of you.

“When a mommy and daddy love each other very much…” You began.

“Stop, stop!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. threw his arms out in waving embarrassment.

“They have the urge to-!”

“No, seriously stop!”

You blinked, waiting.

“You’re getting a message.”

You stared at him for a moment before you turned. “My phone’s on silent from work…”

“So?”

“How do you know?” Looking around, you searched for your bag and found your device.

“How do I explain…?” He rocked to one side. “I can hear the other electronics near me? Kinda like how you hear voices.”

“You’re not tapping in…?” You stared at an increasing number of messages from Donnie.

“I might be like dad, but I’m not dad.”

“It wasn’t comparing you to Donnie...” You thumbed over the preview which was an apology. “You literally stole dirty dishes.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. let the comment sink in before he started laughing. “Oh, true that!”

Returning home, your boyfriend once again met you at the door. This time without the attack, he sullenly apologized and you gave him a proper hug. Kissing him back to a baseline mood, he scooped you up, carried you through an immaculate apartment, and to a freshly made bed. He set you down only to curl up in your lap where you rubbed his carapace as he opened up.

“I can’t… leave without my gauntlet.”

“Don’t you have another?” You spread your nails out for an even scratch.

He gave a heady hum and rooted closer to you. “Sentimental.”

“That one’s special?”

He nodded into your thigh. “There’s three more like yours, but only one of mine.”

“Tell me about it.”

Slouching, he sighed. “Not a first, but one of my more important inventions. A universal remote of sorts, it was my backup for my goggles.”

“The ones that short circuited?” You kept one hand to his carapace and used the other to brush the scarring on the side of his head.

He nodded. “I’ve never replaced it. I’ve been upgrading the original.”

Your hand stopped. “That’s… how old is it?”

“Older than S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.”

“I didn’t… know.”

“I didn’t mention.”

“I’m sorry…”

He shook his head. “No, me.”

You patted him. “That’s not withholding, it wouldn’t come up. Do you know how old my phone is?”

“Yes, I know the model.”

“But did I get it the year it came out?” You tilted your head to glimpse his face.

His eyes moved as he thought that over. “Did you?”

“No, two years after. I was so mad; they released the next gen like a week after I got it.”

He didn’t make a sound, but squeezed you.

“Want it back? I’ll take something else.”

He thought for a long moment and you went back to giving him scritches.

He made a little hum before he spoke. “Is it safe?”

“Very.”

“I’ll make do.”

“You sure? It’s really not a big deal.”

He shook his head and reluctantly rose up. “You were successful. I want to honor that.”

“This wasn’t supposed to make either of us uncomfortable though.” Your hand dragged up to his shoulder.

“I’ll survive.” He kissed your hand with confirmation. “Besides, I’ve moved on to the next stage.”

“You’re not looking for it anymore?”

“Oh, I am, but I’ll need information.”

“Shelly’s records are closed and you didn’t find anything at the scene of the crime.”

His head tipped back and forth as if weighing the options. “Typically I’d move onto kidnapping, extortion, torture, blackmail…”

You stared at him with a growing gaze. “I’m in for quite the week.”

“You think me relentless now?” He almost purred as he leaned into you.

You hummed in return, not taking the bait of his lips.

“Tomorrow.” He confirmed before pouncing on you to shove his carapace back under your digits.

Your morning began with retribution for yesterday’s breakfast. You were served what looked like a normal meal, but the orange juice had been all pulp, the eggs were covertly stuffed with shells, and the bottom half of your toast was burnt to a crisp. Laughing at the forethought, you got yourself cereal and he did an amused peacocking as he readied for his day.

Being the first to the bathroom, you hid his toothbrush in the shower.

He found it soon enough, but you heard him knock a few things over in the process.

Getting dressed found he had left all your clothes pristine, but had swapped all the drawers where they usually sat.

Laughing over how he must have prepared that one the previous day, you scurried to the door with a premonition.

“Wait.” He trailed after, getting his head through a sweater.

You held a guard on your shoulders. “What?”

He made a timeout symbol and you relaxed. Pulling you close, his hands dug into your lower back as he languidly kissed you. Melting into him, you felt his hands move against you before a jingle sounded and he ran.

“There was a time out!” You chased after him and your keys.

“I timed it back in.” He ducked around the bed. “Return my gauntlet!”

“Never!” You pivoted and charged the kitchen.

“Damnit!” You heard him leap.

“No! I was here first!” Banging your body against a cabinet, you covered the drawer containing the spare with your body.

You screeched with laughter as he hooked an arm around your waist to lift you out of the way. “You should learn to use your opponent’s power against them.”

“Or!” You got hold of the keys before letting your body go slack. It shifted his hold and gave you a momentary break. Just long enough to drop down to the ground and break free, you crawled the few steps out from where his long legs impeded him from making another grab. “Bye! See you after work!” You cheered and exited the apartment to him giving an annoyed huff.

The next few days found an escalation in what you referred to as the school yard bully ploy. Keeping it playful, it amounted to a prank war the likes of nothing you’d ever experienced. The back and forth sabotage was quickly subverted by your boyfriend's intelligence. Not able to hack your systems, he’d happily entered your bosses where he’d rearranged the entire calendar for the day. The ensuing mess reached throughout the company and IT was none the wiser to whatever was happening. It meant meetings with clients were missed and memos seemingly disappeared. You survived until lunch, nothing outright destructive, but it felt like pure chaos when you called Kaleb.

Your next plan of sneaking hot sauce into his food wasn't going to cut it.

With Kaleb's engineering background, your chill friend had whipped up what he referred to as a pie throwing robot in what seemed like too little time. It meant a detour after putting out office fires and meeting him at a pastry hop. There you ordered for the lot of you as a payment for your friend’s help. He’d attached spindly metal to your bakery box and sent you on your way with another request of pictures.

Promising it, you headed home with the box in tow and entered the apartment in a feigned huff. “I can’t believe you.”

Donnie spun around, smirking in his computer chair like a cartoon villain.

“I got you something still because I’m so nice!” You spoke loud and haughty.

“Pass.” His gaze narrowed on the box and though his lips turned it down, his eyes tracked you with interest.

“Suit yourself. I would never hurt a defenseless pastry.” Setting the container on the counter, you held down the little switch in the back that temporarily stopped the mechanism. You then opened the box wide so Donnie could see and picked out a croissant before closing it back up. “I’ll have your banana caramel roll for breakfast tomorrow then.”

He perked up.

Walking around and munching on your croissant, you looked at him. “Was I ruining dinner or you?”

“Take out.” His eyes were glued to where you’d just been.

“Nice, I’m ordering that place that always messes up your order.” You juggled your treat with your phone.

He made a noise of little interest as he crept over to the box.

You chewed your lip and tried to cover it with the pastry. “You gonna want the same thing?”

“Your choice.”

“Gizzards it is.”

He shot a sour look at you and you chuckled in a scroll.

Looking at it from all angles, he checked to find you trying to pointedly ignoring him.

A testing sniff to the air said he picked up on the promised treat inside and the quiet that followed indicated your care in having Kaleb using layers of gloves had helped to cover your friend’s scent.

Cracking the lid for the softest scrape of cardboard against itself, he peered inside.

You switched over to your camera and prepared to record a video.

Finding the inside laden with treats, he opened the lid further just as you brought your phone up to track him.

In a flicking snap of metal, cream flung out and splattered across Donnie’s chest and chin.

Little snickers leaked out of you as you stepped up to record him fully. “Good, right?”

His lips were set and he opened the box further to examine the mechanism.

“Kaleb made it. He’s a prank king.”

“My regards.” Donnie grumbled, passing your phone a glance and grabbed his cake.

“I’m switching tactics.” Donnie announced the next night.

“What’s next?” You asked, hanging up your jacket. Thankful for the reprieve not because you’d been scorned, but simply because you were running out of ideas.

You moved over to him.

He received you by holding out his hand.

You took it and he pulled you straight into a waltz.

Spinning with a flip of your stomach, you settled as he led you around and around.

“I’ll try my hand at seduction.”

“Is that new? I’m pretty sure I’ve fended you off before.”

“Sexual advances.” He clarified, his face neutral as he focused on the dance steps.

“Versus… what?”

“Romance.” Coming to a close, he lethally dipped you.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I don’t know how you’re supposed to outdo yourself.” You mumbled as he was slow to right you.

“I won’t be.”

“You’re building this up.”

He flicked a gaze at you and walked you over to the computer.

The usual plain purple background was displayed on the cluster of monitors. You looked them over before checking with him.

In a flick of his finger, you watched a large document appear. With little charts and tables, there was a bulk of words that he enhanced. Starting you at the top of the page, it read like a scientific paper, but the content was about touch limitations. Slowing after the third line, you turned to him with recognition. “This is from…”

Donnie didn’t respond and used a finger to slide to a specific paragraph. “’I find myself at a loss…’”

He was reading it aloud from memory as he stared directly at you.

“’I crave Y/N’s very being. Even as I know myself to despise contact, I find an impenetrable ache. This malady should be isolated and quarantined. This is not something to be studied. This is an ailment. A manifestation of a higher power sent to devastate my person. I consider this a visceral attack. I fear I will not recover. I’m already too far gone and therefore all data previous should be discarded. No longer the impartial party I can usually hold my standard to, I also cannot share this research with anyone. It would be revealing my heart, one that I thought had long stopped beating. It yearns now, cracking free layers of debris built up for its own protection. I will not survive this onslaught.’”

“This isn’t what you told me…”

“No..”

“You wrote this… back then…?” You were still reading over exactly what he had just spoken.

“Yes.”

“But the experiment…?” Hitting the end of the paragraph, the next picked back up with tedious data.

“I made it sound like I was doing it for your benefit.”

You nodded, your heart a steady thrum.

“I lied. This is the first recorded instance of my affection for you.”

“You make it sound like you’re dying.”

“I was.”

He hadn’t gotten any closer, but you turned to gawk at him as if he’d made some big move.

“…Care like that. It rips you apart. Rearranges your sense of self. The reason it is labeled ‘crush,’ but for me it was more.”

“Donnie…” Your insides swirled a confused mass. Though he'd since admitted his early interest, he never let on to the depths

“Do you know how long this document is?”

You looked for a little page counter, but not only could you not find one, you weren’t sure how accurate it’d be with the many tables. “No?”

“Over ten thousand words.”

You paled.

That day at the Thai restaurant, he’d spent an entire meal conveying it.

That must have been the shorthand version folded even further down.

“How long did this study last?”

“A week…? Or something like that. You said I was novel and sort of gave up.”

“I said many things. To you. To myself.”

“What are you saying now?”

“That I was a lost cause the moment you tried to steal my lunch.” He appeared in your face.

Your skin felt alit. Not with fire or chill, but something new. Surges of blood refreshed your body in a cleanse just for him. Prepared on a cellular level, you stepped closer with an innate shyness that you couldn't place.

You were reformed, but the you of the past emerged.

His fingers ghosted your cheek like you were too precious to touch.

It made your jaw wind as if tortured by yearning.

“I won’t say it.” Another waft of his hand urged your head to tip back without contact. “Not under these circumstances, but this is the closest yet that I’ve come to a confession-”

You kissed him.

A crushing force, he smiled into the exchange before wrapping around you.

You broke between presses for a needy ask. “My win… I need to cash it in… Now… Right now… Please?”

He nodded against your lips and steered you towards the bed.

Fumbling together you shoved at each other’s clothes until you turned to lead. “I top.”

“For the record, this isn’t-” He interrupted himself as your top hit the ground and he kissed down the new real estate of your shoulders. “-what I intended.”

“Yeah, no gauntlet for you. Upset?” You asked as the backs of his legs hit the bed.

“How could I be?” He smiled as he fell back with full confidence.

A trust fall into the mattress, he caressed your form as you crawled up to him. Kissing him senseless into the sheets, he handed himself over to your desire. An odd mismatch where only you held the mad fervor, you kicked off the rest of your clothes. Straddling him nude, you stared down at his wobbling form and he returned the gaze with abject adoration. Melting under it and wondering if this is how he felt back then, you stole his lips for the thousandth time and tried to put care into undoing his wraps.

He caught your wrists for a momentary reprieve and kissed your knuckles to calm you. Only stoking the fires, a whine escaped your throat and he reassured you with a squeeze to your arms that he was there; he wasn't going anywhere. Burying the need into him, you kissed and nipped down to your mating mark before you bit into it. His head rolled at the move and you felt the faintest insistence of his hips below yours. Not having the leverage to grind him, you instead focused on clenching your teeth with a minor gnaw until his skin broke.

You earned your favorite honed chirp.

Stomach doing backflips, you needed yourself stuffed to prevent more. Only shimmying his pants down enough to reveal his erection, you rose up adjusting his shaft at your entrance before enveloping him in one swift drop. He exhaled sharply and you tossed your head back for a mewling noise as some basal itch was scratched. Rolling your hips into riding him, his jaw fell slack as he watched you. With his hands loosely holding the thick of your hips, he stared up as if cradling some precious treasure.

If his gaze were any indication, you were long sought and nearly unattainable. Feeling jittery, each rock sent tingles up your spinal cord. Lapping at your brain stem, misfires indicated waves of emotions, each drowning the next. From confidence to devotion, he poured them into you, not through your connection, but his gaze alone. His cock a superfluous peg there to keep you tethered and it was his face that was stirring on your ministrations.

His lips parted.

He spoke a short phrase in another language.

“No…!” You cried, grinding down hard onto him.

“It’s not proper.” He elucidated, grabbing your hands for a reassuring squeeze.

“You can’t just say it in another language like that!”

His eyes shimmered as he spoke it again in an entirely different way.

“Donnie!”

He had another and another.

You renewed your efforts, trying to stop him with your hips alone.

It only spurned more languages off his lips as he spoke his adorations in all the ways, but the one you understood.

“So unfair!” Your pitch rose several octaves as you grew close.

“I know.” He slipped out of a foreign tongue before dipping right into another.

“Then why!?”

“I won't say it like this. Not for some gambit!” He tugged down on your hips and you felt his knot expand.

“Shit, we’re g-gonna-!”

“Together!”

You could only scream his name as you both came. Body arching back to accommodate as much of him as possible, you heard a thousand words fly off his lips. Some a rehash of things you’d heard, he proclaimed a universal language of love.

Not coming down, but instead tapering off, he was slow to rise up and hold you. Moving deliriously with him, you found a limp press of a kiss before burying yourself into his neck.

Loosely running his hands over you with a revelatory awe, he nuzzled against your skin to mumble, “You are my greatest mistake.”

Fluttering lashes brushed the stiff plastron you were dozing against. Cozy and satisfied, your cheek slid against the smooth surface to glimpse your partner. His eyes open, he stared up at the ceiling with an expression similar to how you felt. “You up?”

In a blink of registration, he struggled to look down at you. “Hey.”

“Thinking?” You asked anew.

He hummed an agreement and pet your back.

“Bout what?” Settling against his pectoral scutes, you let your eyes close.

“When I mess up, it’s no longer a failure.”

You made a curious sound as that didn’t make much sense to your sleep coddled mind.

“Before.” His hand stopped and spread flat. “A misstep would cause ruin. I couldn’t afford them. With any, with you.”

“We messed up a lot early on.”

“And look where that almost got me.”

“Us and almost, but not.”

“True, I'm not brooding.” He did one long languid stroke down your torso. “A consideration, late stage revelation.”

“You’re surprised?”

You felt him nod. “This whole exercise has been one mistake after another, but none damaging.”

“Yeah, as far as mistakes go…” You drew a curve with a finger to his plastron.

He squeezed your ass cheeks and you whimpered against him.

“Sensitive…” You huffed and scooted up to bury your face more comfortably against his neck.

He kissed the top of your head. “Referring to you or me?”

“Sensitive?” You chuckled.

“At fault.” He clarified, threatening to grope you again.

You tried to squirm away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

He relented by moving his hand back to the small of your back.

“Both.”

“Shame. I was going to applaud how vile you were.”

You blew an unintentional raspberry and sat up to stare at him, incredulous. “Sure, I’m so evil.”

“It’s true.” He arched a knowing brow. “You’ve ruined me.”

“I’ve taken one thing from you and pied you in the face with help, how is that ruin?”

“You’ve taken a great blight and nearly erased the stain.”

“You did that.”

“You spurned me on.”

“You mentioned this before.”

“I believe it.”

“You’ve been wrong.”

“I’ll admit it when I realize.”

You pecked his cheek. “Can’t wait.”

“Intimidation is next.” Donnie told you first thing in the morning.

You were breathing in the steam of a hot drink. “Huh?”

“My gauntlet.”

“Oh yeah. I was ready to just let time run out. Only a couple days left.”

“I want to win.”

“You’ve already won.”

“I have.”

Smiling into your mug, you let both warmths fill you before you went to get ready. The usual routine, you kept waiting for him to appear as a tower of terror, but he didn’t approach. Seemingly only getting ready himself, you got a goodbye peck on your way out. Carrying the press to your cheek through your commute. You worked with little worry and made it through the trip home without complaint. With anything waiting for you behind the door, you prepared yourself with a deep breath as you opened it.

Donnie stood across the room in a readied pose.

You took your time taking your jacket off and setting your bag aside before addressing him fully.

Unperturbed by the wait, you spied the style of outfit on him that you hadn’t seen in over a year. Cool pieces that were street wear reminiscent of his villain costume, sleek black utility pants were cuffed off with sharp combat boots. The understated bottoms accentuated his show stopping top where a wrap jacket was buckled off on one side and its enormous hood bowed around his shoulders, ready to conceal him at a moment’s notice.

You sensed anticipation in the air.

“Arm of the couch.”

Looking where he directed, there were clothes there. A splash of black with some gold accenting, you slid a hand over the cotton and what felt some stiffness mixed in. “Not really scary.”

“Stand off.”

“You have to give me a little bit more.”

“Change. You’ll see.” He walked off into the bedroom.

Staring after him and feeling a bit like you walked into a cut scene unprepared, you stripped. For clothes that definitely weren’t yours, they were tailored to your exact measurement and felt the epitome of comfort. Black pants hugged your body just right, but had a flexibility that you could move freely in. Doing a testing stomp in your own shiny new pair of steel toed boots, you looked over your arms. With one bare and the other emerging from a ballooned sleeve that was attached with a ring to your middle finger, you were wearing what you could only think of as a corseted hoodie. The top had the usual loose nature with a hood, but it was cinched around your waist and was obviously missing one of its sleeves. It gave you free roving motion to your dominant hand and perfectly coordinated with reaching to your hip where a pouch was strapped to that leg. Patting the pocket found something with a grip inside.

The only piece left that you hadn’t put on was a golden yellow bandana. Similar to his, it was missing the eye holes, so you carried it along as you walked over to the partition between rooms. “Don, what do I do with the-?”

You heard a warp of metal and watched as his bo extended to full height.

“Mask, if you prefer anonymity.”

“Like a cowboy.” You mimed holding up the fabric over your mouth.

He gave a nod and readied his stance.

“You haven’t really trained me to fight…” You felt jumpy and ready to dig into that holster.

“What have I taught you?” He charged forward, clearly holding back.

Using the golden mask, you blocked his bo as he telegraphed his swing.

“Not bad. Deflect would have been better.”

Twisting the fabric and tossing one end over the other, you looped it around his staff and yanked it to the side.

It brought his face up to yours.

“Mano e mano! I get it now.” You grinned.

“Tell me where my gauntlet is.” His voice husked.

“Never!” You lowered your center of gravity and twisted your arms around the mask to spin the staff.

He let it get sent further away.

Stumbling a few feet away from him and further into the bedroom, you panicked as he turned for another strike. A flick of his gaze hit your hip and you dug for whatever weapon was there. Finding two objects inside, you unceremoniously got one into each hand and then threw your arms out in a readied way that you had seen Leo do. The flick extended something and you had to glance down to see you were holding two extendable batons. “Are these legal!?”

He dropped his act for a moment to give you a bitterly sardonic stare.

Puffing up in annoyance, you charged him and he blocked with ease.

Though you had no idea what you were doing, you could feel his expertise. Through each swing, he was also leading you in what to do next. Teaching on the fly, he emboldened you to push harder. It culminated in a dancing duel around the apartment where you exchanged blow after blow. Neither of you once getting physically struck, you knew he could disable you in a heartbeat. Instead, it was about the battle and the heat to it. Charged from exhilaration and exertion, you pushed him back until he flipped over the couch.

He landed on the toes of his good foot on the coffee table and balanced his staff perpendicular to his body on his other raised knee to appraise you with an overflowing expression.

Further boosted by his pride, you squared for a stronger stance and lifted your batons. “Give up?”

“Yield and tell me where it is.” He responded coolly.

“Eh.” You gave a little shrug. “Don’t wanna.”

“Suit yourself.” With only the slightest dip, he launched, almost brushing the ceiling and you had to squander a few steps back. Losing your footing, he landed a force around you with his bo. The staff pressed across your front and, in a twirl that blurred your vision, he shoved upward. It manipulated the batons clean out of your hands and pinned your wrists above your head in one fluid movement. “Mercy?” He teased hot breath along your jawline.

Able to feel the staff with your fingers, you feigned your most pitiful expression which he ate up. Something you’d known from groping it before, it took only a quick slide for you to find the telescoping mechanism. His staff collapsed above you and you kneed into his stomach. Holding back since there was no air to press out and its firm surface would only damage you, you instead used it as a pressure point to throw your weight into him. Having lost his hand hold, it was just enough to throw him off and you both fell back onto the floor.

He scrambled for leverage and you fought to grab his hands. A silly squabble to an outsider, you caught a wrist of one hand and a single digit of his other to force them to his throat since you couldn’t manage over his head.

Leaning over him and panting, you smiled. “How about you beg?”

His grin grew wicked and you couldn’t steel yourself in time as his knees kicked up and his thighs slammed into your ass. It popped you forward until you were almost straddling his face and broke your grip. Swift, his arms swept downward to lock onto your thighs, but you dug your knees into the sides of his shell. Throwing all your weight to one side, he only caught one hip before you crushed said arm to the ground as you rolled. Momentum put him momentarily on top before it continued and you were the victor once again.

Kicking a foot out, you caught a sprawled limb under your boot and crossed his body to exert the rest of your force on his other arm. “Well!?”

He gave a breathy laugh. “Well done, where’d you learn that?”

“I didn’t. Full luck.” You giggled at him.

“I want you.” He purred.

A little shudder wiggled your hips. “Don’t cheat like that…!”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“A trick.” You pursed your lips.

“Tempting, but not that.” He whispered softly as himself and then projected his voice to show he was back in character. “Why fight when we could work together?”

“I betrayed you, stole from you, what’s to say you won’t do the same to me?” You put on your best glower. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“You also can’t end me like this.”

Shifting your boot where it was digging into his arm, you looked over to find he was right. He could probably break this entrapment now, but under the guise of the battle all you could do was continue to pin him. “Give me your staff as collateral.”

“It’s behind you.”

Staring him down for a long moment, you jumped away and scrambled to get it.

He was slow to sit up and show you his hands.

You extended his staff and kicked your lost batons away where they slid somewhere into the bedroom.

“To an exceedingly beneficial partnership.” He grinned.

“I’ll listen and nothing more.” You waited for the turn coat and got to your feet.

His hands stayed where you could see them. “A change of scenery?”

You adjusted your posture for a question.

The far finger on one of his hands came to his thumb.

You held his staff ready to whack him.

He turned his hand over and snapped.

The lights went out.

Backing up where it was suddenly pitch black, you heard several pieces of furniture move until the lights came back on to a far lesser degree. It took a few adjusting blinks, but you found the sofa and coffee table had been pushed flush to the wall with the door. In its place sat a lovely round table, set ready for a romantic dinner. Around the room were now candles, all lit for a flickering honey amber glow.

“Wha-?” The bo loosened in your grip.

“I take my partnerships quite seriously.” Donnie stood ready in the kitchen.

“You…” At a loss, you walked over to the table. “You… uh… could have… poisoned it?”

“How does that benefit me?” He gestured for you to sit. “It would not reveal the information I seek.”

You collapsed the staff and sat down in the chair across from him. “From fighting to wine and dining?”

“I play to my advantage.”

“No scruples.” You looked over your place setting and the cutely folded napkin in the center of your plate.

“Some may say.” He turned and you noticed a large strange contraption on the counter. It just barely fit under the upper cabinets and had the look of a mini fridge. Grabbing a metal handle, it had an unlatching mechanism and it clicked to open. A puff of steamy air poured out and he reached in to remove two plates. A gourmet looking meal, he walked them over and exuded power.

You felt like you had already lost as you pulled your napkin into your lap.

He set your plate down without clinking the china and passed you a coy look.

You returned it with an unsure one and he simply smiled as he placed his own plate down. Smoothly taking his seat and flicking his napkin for placement over his legs, he scooped up a knife and fork to address you. “I see talent in you.”

“Should I be flattered?” Your mouth watered as the smell wafted up.

“Up to you. I would be.”

“Such an ego.” You cut into a steak medallion and marveled how your knife slid through it like butter.

“When one can back it up?” He took his first bite and watched you while he chewed.

“What do I get out of it?” You smeared into a sauce and when you put it in your lips you had to break character to swoon.

He did the same to savor your reaction.

Clearing your throat, a little embarrassed, you tried the sides next. “Well?”

“Besides my tutelage?”

“Yes.” Turning your head from the bite, a happy little moan leaked from you.

You heard a little rhythmic thump and he was forced to readjust his posture.

Your heart somersaulted.

You could see a faint dusting to his cheeks. “You’d have my everything to command. My empire shared.”

“All for some gauntlet?”

“All for being the first to deceive me.”

There was something about his face.

That phrase was both in character and not.

The weight of truth shifting the scales, you had to openly gape.

That couldn’t be possible, could it?

No, he had scars to prove otherwise.

“Donnie-”

“Flukes.”

He read your mind and felt yourself sharply inhale.

“Not praying on naivety, jumping on a moment of weakness, or making a move while I was already down.”

You had to rest your fork and knife on the edge of your plate.

“You named your intent and executed. I am at your mercy. You are the first and only.”

Vision shifting, you returned to your plate and took a few bites in rapid succession to stave off your closing throat.

Across from you, you could feel his smile as he continued to dine the same.

You made it about halfway through before you went for a drink to find there wasn’t one.

He scrambled up and into the kitchen where he quickly returned with two full glasses.

Your smile felt like it took up your whole face.

You loved him.

Taking in the space along with a sip, you returned to him with the intention of giving your answer.

“I must have you.” He interjected before you could.

“You’ll over do it.”

“Impossible.” He dabbed his mouth before rounding the table.

He knelt in front of you and your entire body constricted.

He’d already said he wouldn’t confess his love under this guise so you hoped that extended to a proposal.

“What are you doing?” You held onto the pieces of your voice.

“There will always be more.” He held out his hand and you slipped yours into it. “My affections for you have no limit. They will continue to grow as long as you give them even the slightest attention. I’m bewitched and at your mercy.”

“which you didn’t call it earlier.” You almost felt bad interrupting his speech.

His grin said he didn’t mind. “Show my devotion under duress? When I can present of my own volition?” He brought your hand forward for a chaste kiss.

You melted. “You’re showing me your whole heart. Don’t you want to leave something to the imagination?”

“No. I only want you.”

“You’ve missed something.”

He dropped his sweet nothings to stare with genuine surprise. “What?”

“You already have me.”

He surged forward and caught you in a kiss. Draping your arms over his shoulders, you stoked the flames for a more tender press and he melted against you. Stealing as many as some unknown appropriateness allowed, he eventually retreated reluctantly. Parting with an extra peck to your knuckles, he held your hand as he crossed the table to return to his seat.

“I’ll need that to finish this amazing meal.”

“Sweet sorrow.” He mused, letting go.

You sent your lingering blush to your plate and took a few more bites.

“I may have jumped the gun.” He had a normal candor to his voice and you assumed the role play was over.

“Yeah?”

“I meant to do that with dessert.” He seemed a little irritated and bit his fork a little too hard.

“What else did you make?”

“Soufflé.”

“Shut up.”

“One vanilla, one chocolate.”

“Did they both turn out?”

“Hadn’t fallen last I checked.”

“I’ve never had a fresh one!”

“I hope to do it justice.”

Grinning, you hurried to finish your meal and he cleaned his plate. He then cleared the dishes for you and refreshed you with a glass of water which you sipped as he went to get the next course. “What is that thing?”

“This?” He set the plates down and gestured to the box. “A warmer to maintain the food.”

“The plates weren’t hot.”

“Smart technology.”

“Are the soufflés in there?”

“Yes, I have concerns about the scent transfer.” He readied for the hot air as he opened the door. “Hm.”

“How is it?”

“Haven’t fallen, but the smell…”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He whisked two large ramekins out and your eyes shot wide in excitement at the fluffy overflowing desserts.

Getting up on sheer instinct, you walked over to him and he set them down on the counter for you to inspect. “If I poke it will it collapse?”

“Best to do with a spoon.”

“Fine, fine.” You feigned throwing your hands up and headed back to the table. “Oh, yeah!”

He hummed a questioning response as he approached.

“You won, let me get your gauntlet.” You passed the table heading toward the door.

“The dessert…” He sounded sullen as you left him.

“What about it?” You grabbed the gauntlet off the astronaut and turned.

His limbs sank and you watched the soufflés tip in his grasp.

“Ah, Donnie!”

They hit the floor before you could reach him.

“What happened? Why?!”

“Do that again.”

“What?” You surveyed the damage, steering clear of stepping in the fallen dish.

“Again.”

Unaccustomed to that bitter heat, you shrank a little into yourself.

He didn’t relent so you returned to the astronaut and hovered.

“Place it.”

You set it down as it was, nerves shaking your fingers.

He stared hard at you until you had to break eye contact.

“Pick it up.”

You did so and were slow to walk it over with your eyes glued to the ground.

“This whole time…” He sounded a step away from rage.

Feeling worse than the dessert looked, you held out the gauntlet.

You felt the weight of it leave your hand.

It brought anxious words to your lips. “I-I never thought I was outsmarting you. I just thought… you hide things in plain sight. It’s a trope or something. I wasn’t trying to humiliate you. I didn’t think it was clever. I’m sor-”

Something brushed your arm.

Having not seen it, you looked up to find him standing beside you. He wasn't facing you and was instead staring down at the table with an unreadable expression. Feeling hopeless, you watched as he reached out and caught the table cloth. Wincing in preparation, he gathered up each edge slowly and methodically. Everything on the table tipped and fell including your water which splashed before he tied the whole thing up into a giant bundle.

“Donnie, please-!”

Grabbing the knot, he tossed the entire sack into the kitchen where the dishes shattered inside.

“Donatello!”

He addressed you and you froze under the scalding heat pouring off of him.

Knees feeling weak, he held out his hand and on pure instinct you slotted yours into it. With the faintest pull, he led you the step to the table where you got the sense he wanted you to sit. Turning within his grasp to do so, you hopped up at nearly the same time he dropped to his knees. His name on your lips again, you almost spoke it when his fingers slid behind your ankle as if you were a porcelain doll. Something infinitely precious, he brought your left foot up and set your boot on his thigh. He then began the exceedingly careful action of unlacing your boots and you could only watch him with growing interest.

With one final tug, he pulled the lace free and only then worked to remove your boot. A slow rock to release it from your foot, he was just as careful in setting the shoe aside. Hooking the top of your sock with an attentive digit, he rolled the fabric down until your foot was free.

Your nerves flared as he cradled your arch.

You hadn’t had a chance to shower after the whole work day or from the following workout. “D-Don, wait!”

Ignoring you, his face lowered and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your foot.

Sparks shot off at the delicate nature and he lifted only a few centimeters before placing another.

Your thighs pressed together and he continued his trek up until your pant leg stopped him. He then left you only to repeat the same process with your other foot. By the time he reached your hem a second time, you were love struck. Painting your utter being, you sent the adoration down to him where you saw it returned as he closed in. Coming up like you willed him to, he stopped short and a complaint died on your lips.

Fingers barely brushing your hips, he found your waistband and traced it toward the center. Not fully touching as if you’d shatter with the slightest pressure, he got the button undone and the sound of the zipper going down unraveled your mind. Hips trying to meet his hands, he left your fly down and moved to tuck his digits into your hem. Your arch helped and he used the space to shimmy the fabric down.

Slow and deliberate, he took your underwear down with the pair as he peeled the bottoms from you. Twitching with each inadvertent graze, it was the absence of lust that was your undoing. Pants pooling around your ankles, he removed the fabric one leg at a time before he neatly folded the clothes. Setting them aside as if they were precious garments, he gazed up at your legs as if he had never seen you uncovered before.

A creature unlike any other, his hands hovered, afraid to sully your perfection. Squirming to try to meet him, he avoided you with a near clinical nature until he ditched his research to feel you anew. Starting right where he’d left off on your right foot, he explored with his lips and snout as he tasted every inch of your flesh. Rounding the entirety of your calf before he would move upward, you were panting his name by the time he hit your knees. Nuzzling at the sound was the only indication he was aware of you. He worked your round thigh and avoided the area between your legs.

Shuddering as he mouthed up to the joint of your hip, he descended again and you almost wished you were a mermaid. Something with a singular lower body, you wanted him to continue forward instead of having to reset. A beached siren, you would sing him a sweet melody if only he would abandon his ship and offer himself up to you.

Moving through the same steps, this time when he reached your other hip socket, his hand extended in a testing brush of your cotton top. Tracing the gold boning in your corset, he skipped over your chest for drawstrings. Toying with the aglet, he removed himself from you and appeared to hover in your face. Sensing him like one would a hummingbird and fearing he’d disappear, you reached out.

He caught your hand and you waited with a weak whine in case he’d push it away, he instead pulled it close. Curling your digits to cup his cheek, he leaned his weight there while staring love into your eyes. Lips parting for a shaky breath, he gave a little nod before he turned to nose and kiss your palm. Needing more, but unable to extrapolate, you watched him put your hand back where you had been gripping the table’s edge for dear life.

He shifted focus with closed eyes as he reached behind you to undo the corset’s ties. The fabric soon loosened and he followed the hem around to the side. Lifting your arms, ready for him, he pulled up with the same rolling move to bunch the fabric as much as it would allow. Boning prevented much, but he got to your armpits before he adjusted his grip to flip the top off of you.

Feeling a sweep of relief that air-cooled skin granted, he was slow at receding as if it brought your being into focus. Wanting to scream that you were already his possession, his arms disappeared around your back again and you readied yourself for your bra to be removed. A silent pop, the fabric let go of its hold on you and he traced up feathered touches over your shoulder straps. Sliding them off one at a time, by the time the band unseated from below your breasts, you were gnawing on your now raw lip.

Thumbing over your chin to stop you, a mewl leaked out and his eyes watered at the sound. Wanting to soothe him or do anything other than hang on, you couldn’t wrench your fingers free as he knelt once again. Following up his predetermined path, he planted rows of kisses across your stomach. Yielding an immediate crop, you were on your back of your own volition and he only continued to sow.

Reverent to a fault, he filled the expanse of your torso without shifting to erogenous duty. Your breasts were simply more skin for him to trace. Etching your soul to paper for use in great academic discovery, he diverted course as he hit your collar and shifted to your left shoulder. Arm detaching from you for his own use, he curled his fingers under your wrist to lift further as he worked his way down. Feeling it in your very veins, you mourned what you did not know you needed. Something beyond you and of a higher existence, you could only tell for certain that it wasn’t sexual.

Infinitely more, the signals crossed in a way you couldn’t repair. Not made for his actions, you could only tell that what was between your legs felt inappropriate. Your leaking desire made a mockery of his work and you despised that it wasn’t within your power to stop. Wanting to be a pious vessel for him, your being quaked as he seared off each of your fingertips with a kiss.

Knowing that meant one more round, your head lolled as he returned to your chest. Making a V, he trended the other direction across your right shoulder and, in a swerve, your head bumped his. It knocked him out of his stupor where he briskly rubbed his cheek to yours. An animal-like contact, you returned with as much as you could before he deemed the interaction satisfactory and continued his work.

A puppet without strings, he sought your joints as he kissed across your other arm. Once carved and now painted, you moved for him. A master of none, he was reveled in you though he’d been the one to drain you of yourself. He animated through his lips and you only wanted for him to use you more. Feeling useless without him, he capped off the ends of your digits and appeared again, that roving elusive bird.

You thought you might fall over and he must have noticed because he grabbed your shoulders. Mentally thanking him, your head tipped forward and you felt him push. Odd as he had been more interested in operating around you, you resisted the move until you realized how you were being piloted. It was a turn and you felt doused in the fact that he hadn’t been able to reach your back.

“I can’t…” Your whine hit your ears.

You couldn’t move.

You’d plummet over the edge.

You’d leave this world.

You needed his anchor.

“You can.” He spoke warm beside your head.

Feeling a deep throb within your body, you couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken.

His voice now a foreign one, you shook your head and he let it fall to his shoulder.

“You can.” He repeated with a nuzzle.

A strung out noise pulled from you, you heeded his direction and he got you turned around. Edging you to curl forward and expose your spine to him, you imagined he would flay off chunks of your meat like a fish. Carving skills learned from years of training, he’d yield perfect filets and sear them off with only salt for flavor.

His lips hitting the base of your neck, you unintentionally cried out for the blade. None came and instead he kissed the worries away with each baked press. A toasted stone, it helped ground you and, as he filled out the expanse of you, some of your sanity returned. Tickling toward the center of your spine and downward, it caused muscle groups you’d long forgotten to contract. A writhing mess by the time he inched around your hips, he had to hold you down because you kept trying to rise off the table.

When he left you for a momentary reprieve, it felt like a breath. The first after near suffocation, it was a deep respite of illumination. Drinking in enlightenment, the rustling of fabric signified the change of being. Reality was being swapped and you were an autonomous being. As much of a fact that was, you also couldn't help your tether to Donnie. Newly born, his forging was of his responsibility.

With a show of hands, he returned, standing, and picked up at your hairline. Moving up to your crown, you rolled your neck back to give him access as he worked his fingers into where his lips could not. Soon staring at the ceiling with some sort of sight, something moist barely tapped the top edge of one of your butt cheeks and your eyes widened as you placed it as his cock.

He was not so innocent.

You were the same.

Keenly alive, you broke free from the last of your bindings and left him. He watched on, a painting of a mortal who’d tasted ambrosia and you the god doomed to fall. Your back turned to him, you got on legs that you knew would hold you. It was your body to command and the you who only moments ago thought otherwise felt like some curse you'd broken free from.

An immortal unfairly imprisoned, his existence shifted as you stood nude and powerful. He was no master and had instead come to possess you momentarily. He was an ear to coax and despite your allure, he'd been the one to free you of his own violation. Shifting your weight from hip to hip, your head lifted high as you finally turned to him.

Whatever expression you wore destroyed what was left of him.

Caught having touched what no mortal should, a pathetic chirp exited his body and you approached.

Falling like a tower, he was forced to kneel as you towered over him.

Save for his eyes glued to yours, his being screamed of his lowly station.

A smile picking up your lips, he chirped again, even more pitiful, as you finished your approach. Where he looked up at the object of his worship, you shifted your weight to your right foot. Lifting the left that he started all this with, you touched the tip of your big toe to his pectoral scutes. Spurned by your being, he crumpled backward as you exerted pressure.

Placing the full force of your foot to ensure he’d stay down, he squeaked his compliance and you removed the appendage to regard the whole of him. Laying on his carapace, he spread with full submission and his cock swayed to flag you down. Regarding the organ with the affection that one might give an old childhood toy, you traced the line of his plastron to his face. Gaze piteous for his transgressions, you walked the side of him before moving to place a foot on either side of his head.

It gave him an unencumbered view of your sex and you watched him regard what was above him like a rare bloom. One only fated to have its petals spread once a century, you adjusted your stance a final time before dropping down. Knowing this to be his only chance, he caught your thighs as you sat on his face.

Tipping the bowl back to drink your everything in, your knees hit the floor and you cried out as his tongue pressed into you. Scorching heat of your defiling fall, you were sent further forward. You imagined he gave up breathing in exchange for this moment and you were forced to slap a hand to the floor to keep from doing an outright somersault. Eating you out like his very life depended on it, your other hand buried into his mask, pulling on the fabric and you shoved down the top of his head to make sure he served your ethereal being as he should.

Nails bit your thighs as his snout nudged your clit. His tongue still buried, the appendage felt endless as he siphoned all he could. Your life force tied directly to his, your orgasm felt like it was coaxed by fate. Something needing to culminate to prove that both of you still existed in your current forms, the winding felt like a woven cloth. Made by the fates, the spool rotating for the world’s loom, you shouted.

His only signal, you ground down into him, snuffed out the last of his breath. Cumming only for your pleasure, you allowed your body to spasm and your voice carried the necessary tune. The design of which was orchestrated by him and you felt him still as he drank in the sound along with the last of your juices. Feeling weak and cut off from the god’s might, you slumped, arms no longer made to bear a load of mortality.

You were rising from your fall and it made no sense until you felt him readjust his hold. Dizzy and drunk off your own supply of chemicals, you slacked above him. Moving further, you were deposited onto the flat of his stomach and when his plastron pressed to your sex, you gave an overtaxed jolt. He chirped sweet nothings and aided in your come down until you were again clay for him to mold.

Formless, he searched for your shape, afraid to touch in case the wrong form be built. Reverted to your essential dogma, you needed to help your mate. Your hands rose on this instinct and you watched them as they moved to grab your own breasts. Rolling the fat sacks in your hands, they took what had to be the right shape so you left them. Trending downward, you squeezed bits of yourself, pinching skin and molding what had yet to find its place. Leading down your body and to the little pool you created over his stomach, a touch down into your sex cemented the last of you.

Ready to be fired, he was brimstone and his kiln sat at attention behind you. Lifting on clay limbs, they held your form up long enough to deliver it to the fires. There you dropped and felt yourself split in two as his cock plunged into your body. A snarl ripped from your partner and you felt weak as his Hephaestusian powers awoke. The volcano itself, he sought to overwhelm you. It was all too much and the words you formed made little sense. The foreign tongue couldn't reach you and you were trapped in the lava flow.

He hadn’t moved.

You had only been tossed in for your first fire in an attempt to set, bone dry.

Now paled and ready for the final cook, your hands appeared in your vision. Curious spread digits, they reached out until they found the ridge of his pectoral scutes. As soon you made contact, his own flew up to catch your wrists as if you'd mistakenly committed some great taboo. Afraid of what that might be, his face contorted as your body moved with his. His distress troubled you and you meant to soothe him. Reminding you of your connection, you clenched his cock and the twine paining him snapped.

A vibration revved so intense you saw the minor quiver of your fingers. Lifting one hand up to observe the phenomena, it disappeared up close and you frowned. Looking down to see the other hand still shaking, your brows scrunched as you tried to make sense of where the source was. Far stronger than your tech gauntlet, it seemed to stem from where you touched Donnie. Having seen him just injured, you felt like a bother for putting that jittery sensation onto him.

You'd have to let go to save him.

He still had your wrists cuffed so when you tried to retreat, he wouldn’t let you.

“Let go…” You protested.

He shook his head.

“What?” Your lips felt lame.

He pulled hard on your hands.

It tugged your digits up until your fingertips curled over the edge of his plastron. Skimming the skin above, you felt his chest oscillating at a higher frequency.

The vibration was coming from him.

Now searching for the exact source, you encircled his neck to find it there along with a guttural purr echoing from his throat. “I don’t understand…?”

“Churr.” He could barely get the word out as the sound swallowed up his voice.

“Churr.” You repeated the incantation and he gave a smile as the power turned up.

Hands now another connection point, this churr shook your very bone structure. The circuit completed, you again clamped down on his cock. He squeaked through the churr and you felt yourself descend. Not letting you traverse the depths alone, he encircled you as you finally began to ride him. A drag of your hips churned the water into a whirlpool that threatened to swallow you whole. Your partner, a devolution of chirps and churrs, disturbed the fluidity and kept you afloat until he forced you upright.

Folding overtop you, his knees kicked up as your backrest and you were buried into his chest. Feeling whole, your limbs wrapped around him as you rocked together. A pump to keep the water filling your vessel from sinking the ship, the back and forth exchange staved off the storm. Calypso christening your union, you felt like crying and the thought manifested tiny water droplets. Confused as your face wasn’t wet, you searched for the new leak and found it on Donnie's cheeks.

Brushing furiously to shoo the invaders away, you saw love as the source of the well. Forever bound, the overflow sought your ducts until you dripped with little commiserations. Closer than ever, he brought your foreheads together for further commingling. His churrs echoed in your ears and quieted all useless noise. It slowed time until neither of you rocked and resorted to the smallest grind.

Depths plugged satisfactorily, the micromovements were only meant to maintain the connection. Growing weaker by the second because you had all you needed, you kissed and it felt like something new. Whether it was the roleplay or his new ability, your lip lock enhanced and he waxed poetic; there was no upper limit to his love. Soaring on the thought, it was amongst a thousand shallow thrusts that you came.

Having had no warning of your orgasm, when it struck, you drowned in the many tears. Something silent beyond guppy gasps, your wrenching signaled his own. Mind lost to the white noise of his churr, your wringing forced him to join you. His breath, his vibrations, and his cum brought true silence as your existence had been fully excavated. With Donnie’s locked knees as the only thing keeping either of you upright, you slacked against one another. Toasty, you allowed yourself to sleep, just like that.

Waking was brought about by a jostle to your body. Wanting to doze for many more hours, you frustratingly found the room much darker than you’d left it. Many of the candles had burnt out while a few hung on, flickering with their last breath. Your head rolled to find a clock. You could almost see the one in the kitchen and, though it was upside down, you thought it read sometime after midnight based on the shape of the digits.

It meant you’d been like this for hours and it was Donnie who struggled to rise. Breaking the calcified seal of your hips brought an ache that cemented the time frame and you both groaned loudly to free yourselves. Uncoordinated and a mess, you fell away from one another. Weak and not wanting to lie on the floor a second more, you were the first to get on your hands and knees where his spent leaked down your legs.

Feeling like a filthy animal, you dropped your ass down and let his cum drip to the floor as you forced your bearings. They didn't come readily and you had to tap reserves. Summing all you could, you noticed a ramekin laying on its side. Reaching for it, its cool touch helped with your bearings and you turned it to find some kind of gooey mixture inside. There were spoons once, a far thought reminded you, but their absence meant you had to forage. With half open lids, you caught a nearby chair to get yourself upright.

Toting your prize along with your stumbling and trembling form, you made it to the kitchen and found blessed rest against a counter. Another chill that you despised for its wakefulness, you gathered enough strength to register you were close to the silverware drawer. Wondering about the mystery mixture, you took an embarrassing amount of time to draw a single spoon from the rest. Not to be deterred by one struggle, you rushed as soon as you had a utensil and plunged it into the dish. Getting a solid scoop of white fluff, you brought it to your lips for a burst of sweetness.

“Can… I have… one?” A raspy voice sounded beside you.

Looking with surprise, you found Donnie the source and wondered what had happened to have ruined his throat in such a way.

Unable to place it, you delved out another scoop and held it up to him.

He had to hold himself with one hand to the counter, but he leaned toward enough to take the bite and relished it without releasing the spoon from his teeth.

“That’s my soufflé.” Your own voice wasn't near as destroyed, but sounded thin upon listening.

Frowning around your utensil, he allowed you to pull it out only to ask something. “You… don’t… want… some of… this…one?” He shook another ramekin.

“Chocolate.” You remembered as pieces started to assemble.

He nodded and scooped a spoon for himself out from the drawer that had been left open. Trying his gathered treat first as you had, he made a bitter face. “Cold…”

“So’s this one.” You noted, leaning into him to await your bite.

He took a while getting a good amount onto his spoon before offering it to you.

Like him, you held it with your teeth before the flavor made you release. “It’s good.”

He got out a repulsed grunt before he was struck with what looked like a migraine.

“You okay?”

“That’s… your first…” He grouched.

A laugh shined brightly through the dark before you realized it was coming from you.

He returned it with a smoker’s enthusiasm and you got your strength up by feeding one soufflés. It got you both ambling, unwashed, toward bed. In the morning you knew you would hate the decision, but until then, the mattress felt incredible. Amongst soft sheets that only wanted to soothe achy bodies, you snuggled in and found Donnie hadn’t been as close behind you as you thought. Searching for him reluctantly, you watched him trail up with something in his hands. Not huge, but an odd shape, he set it down with enough force that you couldn't help but get a good look at it.

He took his miniaturized tech gauntlet and placed it, like a visor, on the astronaut's helmet.

The toy was undoubtedly cursed, but the little guy had shown a higher aptitude for this sort of guard duty. Ruminating on his line of work, you let sleep take you as your partner collapsed by your side.

You know my many merry holidays and thanks go out equally to my darling betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

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