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livingemkayde · 10 months

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ch i. chaser

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller

chapter one of chaser

warnings: 18+. minors please dni. smut. semi public (kissing) and if you count the bathroom inside a bar. unprotected p in v. dom!joel. a bit of an age gap that's implied but never touched on much (reader might be 22/23 ish and joel is maybe 35/40 in this). no use of y/n!

a/n: lil teeny teeny tiny one shot that i've been thinking about alot and needed to get down on paper! cant help myself when it comes to a cliffhanger ending. Hope you enjoy hehe <;3 (not related to my dbf!joel mini series at all! but working on the fourth part soon 😀)

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

Getting fucked against the door of a bar bathroom was not on your plans for the night — but your panties were ruined at his first glance. “Fuck, knew you'd be perfect,” he says into your ear, grabbing at your ass. You hear him pump himself a few times before rubbing the tip of his cock through your weeping folds. “Gonna ruin you,” he moans when his tip catches your entrance...

"Cheers!”

You throw your glass towards your friend, Olivia, sitting across from you in some dingy bar in downtown Austin, Texas.

"Cheers," you say back to her — kinda half heartedly — you don't know if it's something you should be cheersing about.

"C’mon — live a little?" She pleads with you.

"I know, I know. I'm just — I don't know — nervous?”

"It's normal to be nervous. I think it'll be something good for you though," she says while peering around the bar.

You down the shot. It's the first of many. Even though you know you have your interview first thing tomorrow morning.

"There she is!" Your friend says enthusiastically, while you grimace at the bite the vodka leaves in your throat.

"I need a chaser — fuck," you manage to get out before coughing and leaving your stool and her behind.

Babysitting.

Well, the ad really said nannying, but, you're a glorified babysitter.

Fresh from college with an English degree under your belt and you're — babysitting.

Not really what you had in mind for your post grad life, but you needed the money, desperately. And at least this way, you didn't have to work 12 hour shifts for minimum wage. And you could hang out with a cute kid for a couple hours.

You were nervous, but after looking for a job for so long, and finally getting a call back, you needed this.

And it was your friend, Olivia, who dragged you out to a bar to celebrate your interview — not even job.

You approach the bar, leaning against it to whisper into the bartender’s ear that you needed a chaser, your hands finding the wood while you dig your nails in there.

You thank the bartender graciously, bringing the cup to your lips while turning around simultaneously.

When you move to walk back towards Olivia, you bump into something — no — someone.

"Sorry, darlin’,” a deep voice draws your eyes from your chaser sloshing around a bit in your hand to dark eyes looming over you.

You look up and see a handsome man — maybe a bit on the older side — but you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think he was hot. But this is not the time for anything. Not with a very, very important interview looming right around the corner.

You try to brush it off and move back towards Olivia.

“‘S alright,” you mumble out when your eyes meet his, he stands a good head over you, his Carhartt jacket fits snug around his biceps – he just looks…good.

You give him a small smile goodbye, but he catches your hand.

“Can I get you ‘nother?" He asks, his eyes twinkling under the soft string lights attached to the ceiling of the bar.

Maybe you're so entranced by his broad stature, or his dark drawl, or the glint in his eyes, but you don’t really register what he's asking.

"What?" You reply back dumbly.

He chuckles a bit, the warm sound of it overtaking your breath.

He gestures down to your hand where your chaser stands half spilled.

“Your drink,” he says with a smirk on his face.

He waves down the bartender and asks him to give you another.

When it comes, he takes the cup out of your hand and replaces it with a fresh one. When his fingers brush, yours, your heart skips a beat.

"There," he says finally — while his other hand squeezes your forearm. The skin under his fingertips burn.

You don't know what's gotten into you, maybe it's the shot already rooting itself in your system, or the thought that this could be your last night of fun — but you look at him through your lashes and ask — tentatively —

“What did you say your name was?”

Hook.

“I didn’t, sweetheart,” he looks at you, his arm stretches out to brace his hand against the bar — caging you in.

“Oh — sorry. Thought you might've…never mind,” you reply sheepishly, showing him a smile.

“You wanna know my name?”

“Only if I get to ask you two questions,” you play with the cup, leaning closer to him, “and I'm not sure you're ready for that.”

Line.

“Think I might be,” he leans in, whispering to your ear over the roar of the crowd. “Gimme your worst.”

Sinker.

You raise your glass in his direction, prompting him to give you his name.

“Joel.”

You don't know why that name sounds extremely familiar. But you chalk it up to being slightly drunk and his musky scent filling your nostrils makes the tell tale stickiness between your legs blossom.

“Joel,” you test on your tongue. Something about this guy is intriguing to you. Maybe it was all a game at first but when his eyes flick between your eyes and your lips — you aren't sure if it's a game anymore.

“Nice to meet you,” you say. He flashes you a gruff smirk.

“You buy all the girls you ‘bump into’ at bars drinks?”

Joel’s closer — if possible. He smells woodsy and he can't keep his damn eyes off your lips.

“Nah,” he smiles, looking back into your eyes, “Just the pretty ones.”

You shouldn't blush as hard as you do.

Somewhere between all the looks and flirting your hand finds his chest, resting above his heart.

“You think I'm pretty?” you reply with a teasing look.

“Don’t get cocky now,” he bites back.

Honestly, whatever you were thinking about before Joel was thrown out the door at the sound of his rich drawl. Now all you can think is him — the whiskey on his breath, his hands finding your waist, and him leaning down — closer.

You look down to his lips — surrounded with gruff facial hair that you really want to run your fingers through. You don’t care about anyone else at the bar. You don’t even remember you came here with Olivia. Not when he stalks forward, leaning in so you whisper into his ear —

“Kiss me?” in a hushed tone only he can hear.

He leans back a bit to stare at your face, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips.

“You only had two questions.”

Caught a fucking live one.

“Kiss me,” you rephrase — a declaration, a statement, or even a demand — not a question.

“There you go,” he growls before ducking his head down to kiss you. It's a little rough — his movements. But he's gentle with his lips. Joel grabs your face with one hand, the other finding purchase on your hip while squeezing hard.

You moan into the kiss which has you blushing. You didn't mean to sound so desperate for a man you just met. You get even louder when his thigh slots itself between yours — your skirt hikes up a bit, his jeans rutting against your core.

You feel him smirk against your lips at that.

“Joel—” you whimper when he ducks his head to place heavy kisses on your neck.

“Bathroom,” he groans before giving you a quick peck and stepping away from you with a darker look in his eyes. Your thighs clench in anticipation.

You let him saunter through the crowd towards the restrooms.

Fuck, what is happening? You're not even that drunk. He just tastes intoxicating and a bit sweet to your surprise and you want more. You know what will happen if you follow him in there, and there's really no hesitation as you down another shot, chug your chaser and disappear into the crowd.

You knock on the door to the bathroom and it opens almost immediately.

Joel pulls you inside, pressing you up against the door until it closes. He's on you immediately — pulling down the straps of your top, exposing skin, hiking up your skirt to reveal panties.

He groans when his fingers feel the wetness through cotton. You moan into his mouth.

“Been watchin’ you all night,” he whispers into your ear, you snake your hand down at his words, feeling him through denim — your fingers threaten to tug at his zipper, “Pretty girl…”

“Fuck — please —” you whine at the feeling of his length but he cuts you off.

“Say my name,” he says — already tugging down the zipper on his jeans, freeing himself, and pushing your panties to the side with his other hand.

“Joel — jesus —”

He flips your body with strong hands on your hips.

You bet you look fucked out. Your shirt, halfway pulled off your body, with an open mouth and eyes dusted with lust as you moan out a name you just met ten minutes ago.

Joel presses you against the door, your hands find purchase in the wood, clawing at the flat plank.

Getting fucked against the door of a bar bathroom was not on your plans for the night — but your panties were ruined at his first glance.

“Fuck, knew you'd be perfect,” he says into your ear, grabbing at your ass. You hear him pump himself a few times before rubbing the tip of his cock through your weeping folds.

“Gonna ruin you,” he moans when his tip catches your entrance but he pauses there.

“Please, Joel —” you whine and he sinks in more. The stretch leaves you speechless, you whine incoherent nonsense to him. He groans and fights the urge to dive in.

“Beg me,” he mumbles.

“What?” You can't really hear much over the ringing in your ears.

“You want it? Beg,” he demands through gritted teeth.

That's new.

But you aren't complaining by any means.

“P-please I—” You're flushed now.

“You what?” He inches out this time, you moan at the loss.

“I n-need you — god — please, Joel.”

“Fuck. You want it like this? Up against the door? Where anyone can hear you?” He slides back in, almost enough.

“Yes — yes, please. God, please,” you beg, balling your fists and biting your lip.

He complies, surprisingly, sinking into you without hesitation while mumbling a small needy under his breath. You almost scream at the feeling and he has to cover your mouth with his hand in response.

The stretch is almost too much. But somehow it feels nice to be pressed against the door — the pressure getting to an all time high. You could be screaming — saying anything and you wouldn't be able to tell. Everything seems fuzzy around his girth when he starts pumping in and out of you.

With each slam of his hips you get pushed further into the door, your cheek resting against the wood while his hand wraps around yours, pinning you down.

“Fuck — so fuckin’ tight,” he groans into your skin.

You aren’t gonna last long — you make that much known — whimpering to him over your shoulder.

“Joel — I’m-I’m not gonna —”

“I know baby, I know.”

He cages you in — chasing after his own orgasm.

“Doin’ so good for me,” he groans, “Made for me.”

That sends you over the edge. You get impossibly tight around him and he clamps down on your mouth when you cry out in bliss. He doesn’t let up. Even when you relax around him — spent.

“Jesus,” his hips stutter as he moans into the back of your head with an open mouth.

“Inside — please,” you whimper through your overstimulation.

You moan at the feeling of his hips punching faster even though he’s dead silent, chasing his high.

You think he might pull out and you really want him to stay in.

“‘M on the pill — Joel,” you moan but he pushes you harder into the door, squeezing your hand tight when he comes inside you.

You can feel the hot stickiness of it roll through you — coating your walls. He only lets out a few grunts and moans — mostly stoic behind you.

When Joel pulls out, he spins you around and kisses you. You aren’t sure how you don’t slump to the floor. But a buzzing from your phone knocks you both out of it.

Olivia.

You answer quickly.

Hello?? Where the hell are you?

“Sorry Liv! I got caught up in the bathroom. Give me a second,” you give him a knowing look but he waves you off, fixing your shirt and pulling down your skirt.

When you hang up, he kisses you again.

“I gotta go,” you mumble to him reluctantly. He’s still running his hands along your body — his lips ghosting your shoulder.

“Friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I see you again?” he says.

You almost let the unconscious no, sorry slip from your lips but you think about it. You really do — and you want to see him again too.

“Yeah,” you echo, giving him a small smile before handing him your phone to put his contact in.

Joel shoves it back into your hand after typing it in. He opens the door, motioning for you to step out first.

Hm. You note.

Gentleman.

“Thanks,” you mumble. You’re about to leave, but he catches your arm, spinning you around before landing a soft kiss on your lips one last time.

“See you soon,” he whispers.

Miller.

The name stares back at you — etched into the mailbox.

You rub your hands on your pants to rid them of the sweat. You have no idea why you’re so nervous. You didn’t get good sleep last night, the hangover creeping into your early morning, making you run a bit late.

But fuck it.

You needed this job.

And people like you. Right?

You hope that much as you make your way to the front door. You also hope this family will be nice — and you pray to god you get the fucking job.

You knock tentatively and hear a small voice mixed with a gruff one, coming to the door.

You do see Joel soon. Way too fucking soon.

Because he stares back at you when the door swings open, accompanied by a young girl.

He’s speechless.

You both are.

ch ii. wild things

1K notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 5 months

Text

Like Betta Fish Do Part 28

wc: 3020, masterpost

“I get why you insisted on picking me up,” she said as she watched the black sedan part the sea of reporters outside of Wayne Manor. Her hand made a half aborted motion, like she wanted to fidget with with her hair despite the red being cropped close to her scalp in a pixie cut.

The haircut would be a new thing, or new enough that in stress old habits were still there. Perhaps something she did when moving into her doctorate. A new hair cut to go with a new stage of life. She went for an extreme though, maybe trying to shed a metaphorical weight or maybe a bob would have been too much like her mother’s hair. Maybe both.

Dick gave his head a little shake and tried to stuff the parts of himself that couldn’t help be analyze someone away.

It was worse with the stress of it all.

“I know, right? They’ve been crazy,” Dick said with a laugh.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Dick blinked. “Do what?”

“Pretend everything is okay. You don’t have to do what with me. After all, we’re both big siblings, aren’t we?” Her own, wry smile didn’t reach her aquamarine eyes.

Dick wanted to protest and for a moment he almost did. Then Dick just sighed and let himself slump into his seat. “That obvious?”

“No, I just know what it’s like,” Jazz said.

“I shouldn’t be putting this on you though, not with what happened to Danny—”

She held up manicured hand. “Don’t. Suffering isn’t a competition. Besides, I got to learn this happened knowing that Danny was already safe and being taken care of. I didn’t have to think he was dead like you all did. I also didn’t have to learn about all the rest of it. It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Knowing my little brother is still dead?” Dick gave a bitter bark of a laugh. “Yeah, it’s hard.”

“Half dead,” Jazz said with a smile that was all too understanding. “That half part is important to them. They’re half dead. They’re half alive. They aren’t the little brothers we had before and that’s hard. It’s okay for that to be hard.”

Dick rubbed at his face. “It shouldn’t change anything.”

“But it does.”

“It does.”

“That’s alright,” Jazz soothed. “It’s a big fact, of course it’s going to change things. As long as he’s still your little brother and you love him then the rest won’t matter so much, not with some time.”

The car came to a stop in the garage. Dick let himself take a deep breath as the door rolled closed. It was always about needing time, but at least they still had it.

“Well, Miss Nightingale, shall we go inside?”

“Thank you, Mister Grayson,” she said and took his offered hand to get out of the car. “And thank you again for the ride, Alfred. Picking me up from WE was the right move.”

“And you needn’t worry about your car, it will be safe in the parking garage,” Alfred assured her.

She covered an amused snort with her hand. “You saw my car, no one is going to try and steal that old thing.”

Alfred held the door to the house open. “Perhaps slightly more worried about the press hoping to find something.”

“Would they really break into my car?”

“They would,” Tim said from where he was standing inside the door, typing away on a tablet. “Gotham’s lost prince shows up at a gala with his mystery boyfriend and then proceeds to press the kill button for said boyfriend? The press is going insane for it. If it was just Gotham’s press it would be one thing, but it’s broken containment and fast. Have you said anything to any reporters? Even any non statements? Is there anything that the might dig up on you, other than your parents, that we need to know about?”

“Jazz, this is Tim. We’re sorry about him,” Dick said with a strained smile. It only got worse when he took in Tim and the heavy bags under Tim’s eyes. “Tim, when was the last time you slept?”

Tim waved the question away. “I had a power nap after breakfast.”

“What Master Timothy means is that he fell asleep at the table mid-meal,” Alfred chastised as he continue into the manor proper.

“Still counts,” Tim muttered. Finally he looked up from his tablet to blink listlessly at them. “Well?”

“Tim,” Dick chastised.

“No, it’s fine,” Jazz said with a patient smile of someone used to behavior like this. “It really is… everywhere. I haven’t said anything to any press other than ‘no statement’ and I can’t think of anything. Well, I mean, I have a girlfriend but if they have an issue with her they already have Danny and Jason to rage over. How is Danny handling it all?”

“Tim has blocked all social media from the manor. You need a password to get through it and I don’t think they’ve been bored enough to try and crack it yet,” Dick said.

Jazz looked thoughtful. “That’s probably best. I’m alright with you asking more questions, but can I see Danny first, please?”

Tim blinked as if startled by the thought. “Yes, right, of course. They’re probably still in the library, that’s where I saw them last.”

“That was yesterday,” Dick pointed out.

“Oh, well,” Tim tilted his head but didn’t stop talking. “I bet I’m still right.”

Dick just sighed and exchanged a look with Jazz. Little brothers.

Jazz crouched down in front of the couch and reached out to run her fingers through Danny’s hair.

“Danny.”

“Nn.”

The corner of her mouth ticked up. “Danny.”

“’ive m’er min, Jazz,” he mumbled sleepily.

“If you don’t get up, I’m calling Cujo.”

“I’m up, I’m up!” Danny explained and jolted awake before he was left just blinking confessedly at the room. When the rest of it snapped together for him he smiled brightly. “Jazz!”

“Danny!”

“Your hair looks even better in person!” Danny said, reaching out to ruffle the short locks.

“I don’t care if you’re on your deathbed Danny, I will bite you.”

Danny sighed dramatically as he sat up properly. “I never get to die on a bed. At least this time I was sitting.”

Jazz leaned forward and wrapped Danny up into a crushing looking hug. “Oh Danny, what am I going to do with you?”

“Still don’t have an answer for you there, Jazz,” Danny said. He was practically curled around Jazz and stayed that way as she shifted to sit with him on the couch.

She looked up at Jason who was still standing awkwardly by the couch where he had greeted her. “You can sit. I don’t bite.”

Jason snorted. “You just threatened to bite Danny. I don’t believe you.”

“Her bites aren’t bad,” Danny said with a yawn. “But her aim is horrible. And don’t let her have a baseball bat. She’s lethal with one of those.”

The almost fanged way that Jazz smile made that easy to believe.

“I approve of you, Nightingale,” Damian said with a decisive nod from the armchair he was occupying.

“What are you going to do now that there are two Nightingales?” Tim asked, far too innocently.

Damian scowled, his whole face scrunched up before he gave a sharp shrug. “I am confident that the Nightingales are intelligent enough to know which one I am referring to.”

Jason shook his head at the easy way the brat seemed to accept Jazz and settled on the far side of the couch from her, leaving Dick and Tim to take the two seater.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, Jazz,” Danny said, though his words were at odds with how thoroughly he had relaxed into her side.

Jazz rolled her eyes. “You were electrocute Danny, again. Of course I was going to come see you. Even if classes were in session, you’re more important than them.”

“Hum, fine,” Danny said with a huff of air. Somehow he settled in even further to his sister’s side. “Sam, Val, and Tucker send their love. With all the crazy press I told them to stay away so not to get caught up in this.”

“It is something for sure,” Jazz agreed. “How are you doing?”

“I’m tired and tired of being tired, it sucks. Oh, I’ve got more Lichtenberg scars!” Danny stuck his legs up in the air. His fuzzy, Nightwing patterned pants slid down his legs enough to show the scarring that wrapped around his ankles. The marks were still raised and red. Jason caught the legs as they dropped and settled them into his lap. He couldn’t help but run his thumb over the mark as soft reassurance that Danny was there and alive despite it all. “Not sure if these will stick around since they’re not ghostly.”

“You need to stop collecting them. No more getting electrocuted, big sister’s order.”

“Second that on boyfriend’s orders,” Jason said.

“Thirding that from the in-laws,” Dick said. In-laws? “Aw look at that, Jaybird is blushing.”

Jason pulled a throw pillow out from behind him and lobbed it at Dick. “Shut it.”

Dick easily caught the pillow with a laugh. “Jason and Danny, kissing in a tree—”

“Grayson, try to not be an embarrassment,” Damian said with a sigh.

“What? Jason and Danny could totally kiss in a tree. Danny can fly! I mean, not that we’ve seen it yet but he says he can,” Dick said.

“Oh he can. Nothing like walking into your little brother’s room to find him sitting on the ceiling,” Jazz said. “It was an interesting childhood.”

“It makes hanging things easy too,” Jason teased.

Danny sighed dramatically. “I knew you were just into me to be your glorified ladder.”

“That’s just because he wants to climb you,” Tim muttered absently.

Jason held up his hands for Dick to throw the pillow back to him and then lobbed it at Tim. It smacked Tim square in the face, making his little brother’s shoulders slump as it landed on his tablet.

“Really?”

“Don’t be crude,” Jason said.

Tim glared at Jason from under his bangs. The kid’s hair was getting long again. “Oh that’s rich coming from the Red Hood.”

“Red Hood?” Jazz’s voice cracked slightly.

Jason buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“Oh, shit, did she now know? I thought she knew!”

The whole couch shifted as Danny pulled himself up by Jason’s shirt so that he could cuddle him. “It’s okay, I love my hero.”

“Vigilante,” Jason mumbled.

“Daniel John Nightingale!” Jazz screeched. “Tell me you’re not doing vigilante stuff again!”

“Ooooooh full named!” Dick heckled.

“I am not doing vigilante stuff again,” Danny said.

“He’s really not,” Jason promised as he shifted Danny around to be more comfortable. “That’s just family business. I wouldn’t ask him to get involved.”

“Family…,” Jazz said. Jason watched her eyes dart from Danny to Jason to the rest of them. “Ancients you’re all, what would you call it? Various Batmen?”

“Usually we just go with Bats,” Tim said with a little shrug. “Especially since we’re not all, or only, men.”

“Okay, Bats,” Jazz said with a sigh. “Really, Danny?”

Danny shrugged, completely unrepentant by the way he smiled. “I didn’t know! I didn’t even know Jason was a Wayne until just before we started dating. That one is maybe on me though, I’m bad with faces.”

“You always have been,” Jazz said. “Really though, no hero stuff?”

“None. I’m focused on school. Well, and Jason. Dates are very nice, but mostly I’m focused on school. You can’t blame me for enjoying dates too!” Danny said.

Jazz laughed and shook her head. “No, I can’t. I’m glad you’re enjoying dates. Just try to stay out of the business, okay? I want you to be able to just enjoy your life. You have enough obligations waiting for you when you’re dead.”

“Do we have to work when we’re dead?” Tim asked desperately. “Please tell me we don’t have to work when we’re dead. That’s when I was planning to sleep.”

“No, Tim,” Jazz said gently. “Most people don’t work when they’re dead. Danny’s just an idiot—”

“Hey!”

“—who became the Ghost King without realizing what he was doing. His forever job starts when he dies.”

“Wait wait wait,” Dick spread his hands. “Danny is royalty?”

“Mhum.”

“Oh my god,” Dick said with a gleeful smile that Jason didn’t trust one bit. “Does that make Jason a prince? Queen? Does it feel like you’re in one of your regency books, Jay? What’s it like.”

Jason groaned and buried his face into Danny’s hair. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Dick cooed.

“Oh good, Jason can work then,” Tim said. “I just want to sleep.”

“You can sleep now,” Jason pointed out. “No one is stopping you. Hell, Alfred would encourage it.”

“Can’t,” Tim said. “I’ve got to get this PR stuff done. Is this a diplomatic issue now too?”

“What can I answer to help?” Jazz asked in such a patently big sibling way that Jason glanced up to exchange a look with Dick. Having one more person after Tim to rest couldn’t hurt.

Tim pursed his lips. “We’ve already done the usual asking for respect during this difficult time. Babs and I have been working on making sure the part of the video where Danny asked Jason to press the button is in circulation and in the right hands. There have been some pointed emails sent. Bruce is going to go on tomorrow and give a brief statement— which we need some answers for. We’ve got Clark coming to interview in a few days to do a proper story. Luckily Vickie Val has made it easy for us to go out of Gotham for that story with how she’s been behaving.

“They’ve found out about your parents, of course, but we were able to respond instantly with your name change and, in all essence what was nearly emancipation with how quickly you did it and moved out. There are some character stories from old classmates though calling you odd but also defense from current ones that we’ve been pushing further up in the SEO. Between those details and his survival, it’s no wonder that the question of Danny being a meta is circling That’s the main thing we need to know how to address and if we want to play into it.”

Jason had to take a moment to respond to all that. He’d been so focused on helping Danny heal and stay happy that he hadn’t even thought half of that through. He knew the press were out there, of course they were, but… “You’ve really worked this out, haven’t you?”

Tim just blinked owlishly at him. “Of course I have. It’s what I do. I know you didn't like me looking into Danny when we first found out about you dating him, but… this is why I do those things. Not just to protect the family from other people, but to protect the people who get close to us. I can help direct the conversation because I know ahead of time that things like the Fentons will come up."

“Thank you Tim, really.”

“Um… you’re welcome,” Tim said before he looked back down at his tablet. “We do need to decide if we go the meta route at all. Would that cause issues with the Fentons? Do they also hate metas?”

“No,” Jazz said. “Well, they would basically look at superheroes to make sure they weren’t ghosts in disguise or possessed, but other than that they didn’t really mention metas. It was actually pretty much a non topic in our town with everything else.”

“But we’d have to be careful with what we say I can do or… well, they’ll clock me as a ghost. I’ve never wanted to find out what would happen then.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to go to a hospital?” Dick asked in that carefully gentle tone of his.

Danny shrugged. “That but more old fears. There used to be a group called the GIW that were government funded ghost hunters that had legal clearance, basically, to experiment and exterminate any ecto-entities. I really don’t want to be dissected like some classroom frog.”

“Vivisected,” Jazz corrected in such an absent way that it spoke of old arguments.

Jason clutched Danny closer to him.

“It’s okay. They never really were very above the board, it turned out, and when the power changed hands they lost their funding and just sort of disappeared.”

“But it doesn’t mean there fear did,” Dick summed up.

“We will look into them,” Damian said, standing. “To be certain that they are gone and no longer a threat to you or Todd. Drake, you will not be needed on this while you are in this sleep deprived state. I will seek Gordon’s help instead.”

“Hey! I can still—”

“Finish up asking us questions,” Jazz interrupted smoothly. “It wouldn’t be hard to spin Danny as a mild meta from the results of a lab accident.”

“Maybe even give a half truth,” Jason said. “He was electrocuted around some chemicals and he ended up with a mild resistance to it.”

“That could work,” Tim said, tapping away on his tablet. “Generally useless in day to day life other than cutting down on annoyances when wiring something but just enough to survive this sort of trap. Have Bruce throw in a joke about how Danny produces a lot of static electricity or something to lighten the mood.”

“And it would make it seem like Danny has a resistance, not a weakness, in case anyone tries something again,” Jason added.

“That would be nice. Being tased really, really sucks,” Danny whined.

Jason pressed a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I know, fish.”

“Yes, alright, Bruce will need to put it in his own Brucie wording but I think this will work,” Tim said with a little nod. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

---

AN: Rereading through this, this might just be the whole chapter. Maybe I'll make the interview it's own chapter to cut down on the shock of going to that style of pov and piece. And then the final* chapter? Thoughts thoughts...

Anyways, words are hard, brain is tired, here is Jazz!

You can subscribe to the masterpost here.

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

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scarlethexelove · 9 days

Note

Hii, can you write Jock! Intersex!Carol x virgin (and innocent about sex) reader where they are dating but reader is stressed to do it with Carol because of Carol's past reputation on campus, so the reader thinks that she will be directly rought but when Carol starts touching reader to initiate sex, reader told Carol that she's virgin, and Carol becomes soft and take her time with the reader to not hurt her too much, even if the reader will feel pain during the first penetration (including Carol who doesn't want to wear condoms so reader asks her why and Carol says that she hates it and that condoms kill the feeling of the walls, unprotected sex, breeding, Carol calls reader babygirl/princess )

I'm Ready

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 2752

Warnings: Intersex!Carol, Smut, P in V, Virgin!Reader, Fingering, Oral, Breeding, Soft!Carol, Little bit of degradation, Little bit of a Daddy kink (Said once)

A/n: I'm so sorry I didn't add much of the Jock part but it is mentioned a little. My brain is mush and I'm having a hard time thinking of what warnings there are. Please if I forgot something really important let me know. Hope you like it and sorry it has taken me a bit to get to this. I have been so busy and then got sick.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You turn to walk backwards behind in front of your best friend Wanda. “I think I’m ready.” You tell Wanda her face is puzzled at your words. “Ready for what?” She asks you. You slightly blush at the thought. “I want to have sex with Carol.” You say just above a whisper. “You want to have sex!” Wanda says loudly. “Wanda.” You whine with how loud she was. You look around to see people looking at you making you look down in shame. “I’m sorry Y/n/n. I was just shocked. Are you sure?” She says softly and you nod. Both of you stop walking to talk. “I’m ready. I want it to be with Carol… I think I love her.” You say shyly.

Wanda can’t help but slap your shoulder excited. “You love her? Oh my god. I’m so excited for you.” Her words make you smile. “Thanks Wanda.” You hug her before pulling back, keeping your arms around her. “You know I will admit that I was hesitant on you dating Carol because of her reputation but I have seen the change in her and in you.” Wanda smiles, hugging you again.

“You can invite Natty over tonight. I’ll be at Carol’s tonight.” You wink at Wanda. She shoves you as she starts to walk away. “Just don’t have sex in my bed.” You laughed and Wanda winked which caused both of you to burst out laughing.

You find yourself sitting on Carol’s couch cuddled into her side as you two watch a movie. You keep sneaking glances at Carol which doesn’t go unnoticed by her. She can’t help but smirk. The next time your head turns to look at her she is already looking right at you. Taking your breath away as the light from the tv illuminates her face. “Do I have something on my face baby girl?” She smirks knowingly at you. “N-no.” You mumbler looking down. Your nerves are eating away at you. A finger slips under your chin, bringing you to look back up into her brown eyes. She leans in kissing you soft and slow.

It takes no time as the kiss deepens and you both become more desperate for each other. You shift your body over into Carol’s lap as her hands grip your hips and your arms wrap around her neck. Her tongue exploring your mouth and a small moan being swallowed by Carol. You can feel her length hardening under you pressing up against your core. When your lungs start to burn you both pull away. Carol starts to kiss down your neck. You’re panting above her as her fingers dig into your hips, grinding up into you. “C-Carol.” You try to get her attention. She keeps kissing and leaving dark reddish purple marks on your neck. “Carol, w-wait.” You mumble out again, but all she does is hum against your neck. “Stop.” You finally manage to say. Carol immediately pulls back looking at you concerned.

“Is everything ok princess?” Carol asks you concerned, her hands cupping your cheeks as she looks at you. “I-I’ve never.” You mumble. “You’ve never what?” Carol questions not quite following along. “I’m a virgin.” You whisper looking down ashamed. It’s silent for a moment. “Y/n/n.” Carol says softly, but you don’t respond. “Princess please look at me.” Your eyes finally drifting back up to your girlfriend's face. Her smile is soft as she looks at you. “Do you want to stop?” She asks you which has you shaking your head. “I want to do this.” She smiles at you. “Are you sure?” Carol questions again not wanting to push you. “Yes.” You nod your head.

Carol picks you up which causes you to squeak, wrapping your legs around her waist and your arms tightly around her neck. She carries you to her bedroom and gently lays you down on the bed. For someone so experienced and larger than you you expect her to be a bit more rough and uncaring. But she is a total contrast to every word you have ever heard about Carol from other girls' mouths. Always the big jock on campus who could pull any girl she wanted. She is a badass on and off the court. But you have seen a different side than the rumors. Carol is sweet and caring, she has never pressured you for anything. You’ve been together for 3 months now and she hasn’t once asked for sex when you know with others that is all she wanted.

Carol leans back on her calves as she looks down at you sprawled out on her bed. She pulls her shirt over her head leaving her just her sports bra on. She reveals her beautiful sculpted abs and toned arms. You’re pretty sure you're drooling just looking at her. She gives you a wink which makes you blush before she is shuffling her basketball shorts off. Her toned thighs are only covered now by the boxers she is wearing, her large bulge confined by the fabric.

Carol leans down kissing you softly just hovering over you. “If at any time you want to stop, just tell me okay?” You nod your head in understanding. “Baby girl, I need your words.” Carol smiles reassuringly at you. “Yes I understand.” She smiles, pecking your lips. Carol’s hands move to the hem of your shirt and stop looking at you for permission. You nod with a small yes. You sit up helping her with taking your shirt off. Soon your bra follows being thrown somewhere in the room to be found later. You help Carol to finish stripping your clothes leaving you completely naked. You try to cover your body but Carol pulls your hands away. “You’re so beautiful princess, don't hide from me.”

You pull Carol down kissing her which she gladly accepts. She pulls away starting to kiss down your neck nipping and sucking as she travels down. Your breathing picks up the further she kisses down your body. Soft kisses trailing down your stomach down to your thighs. Settling herself there as she looks up at you with a lustful look in her eyes. Your breath hitching as you look at her nestled between your thighs.

A breath of hot air hits your wet folds as Carol releases a breath sending a shiver up your spine. Your naked body in front of her for the taking. The desire to take and claim you running through her mind. But she holds back only caring for your comfort. Your first time should be special and she wanted to make it the best. She knows she loves you but it does scare her because she has never felt like this for anyone. She only sleeps around and not falls in love but you caught her heart and she wanted nothing but the best for you.

Carol licks a strip through your folds moaning at your taste. You gasp at the new feeling, so different but so good. She circles her tongue around your clit before wrapping her lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves. She sucks harshly which causes you to moan, your hand flying to her hair and lacing your fingers through her hair. You can feel her smirk against you as she continues to work over your clit.

Breathy moans escaping your lips as Carol continues to lick and suck. One of her hands trailing up your body as she cups your breast and tweaks your nipple. Her other hand moving between your legs. Your wetness coating her finger as she teases your entrance. She slowly probes her finger at your entrance before slowly pushing one in. Your gasping as your grip on her hair tightens. She slowly pumps it in and out. Working on stretching you out to take her cock, not wanting to hurt you. She slowly adds a second finger, the stretch foreign with very little sting. “Mmm.” A tight grip on her hair as she lets you get used to the feeling.

You have never felt like this before the pleasure building in your lower stomach as Carol brings you closer to the edge. Her tongue working your bundle of nerves and her fingers thrusting in and out of you, her fingers curling up and pressing into the sensitive spot inside of you. Your moans filling the room as Carol laps at your cunt. “Please.” You whimper as you feel so close to the edge. “I-I think I need to. Mmm fuck.” Your walls clamp down on Carol's fingers as she lightly scissors them inside of you. “A-Ahhh.” The extra stretch is slightly painful but still building you towards your high. “Cum baby girl.” Carol moans against your core, sending you over the edge. Your back arching as your thighs clamp around her head and your fingers tighten their grip. The sting in her scalp caused her to moan. Your cum coating her lower face as she laps at your folds.

Carol works you through your high her tongue lapping at all the cum you could give her. As she slows down you come back to your senses, your chest heaving. “You did so good princess.” Carol smiles as she pulls back. Your juices coating the lower half of her face which has you blushing. You cover your face with your hands. You feel the bed shift before your hands are pulled from your face. She smiles, leaning down and kissing you roughly. You moan into her mouth when you taste yourself on her lips. This kiss is much more desperate, almost needy. You can feel her hardened length still in their confines pressing against your core.

A whine escapes your lips the longer you feel Carol’s length pressed against you. “Please.” You mumble against her lips. She pulls back looking you in the eye as she hovers over your body. She smiles at you leaning back as she pulls her sports bra and boxers off her cock springing free as she kicks them off her feet. You lick your lips when you see her cock springs free. She leans back over you and kisses you gently leaning her head against yours. “Baby girl it’s going to hurt at first but it will feel good eventually. If it becomes too much, tell me and we will stop.” She tells you gently her length rubbing through your drenched folds. “I’m ready.” You nod.

Carol lines her length up with your entrance, the head catching lightly as she coats it in your juices. “Carol, what about a condom?” You question as she slowly pushes the head in. You grunt and hold onto her shoulders the sting and fullness just from that little bit already overwhelming. She shakes her head. “It takes away from the feeling. I hate them.” She pushes in more. “F-fuck you feel so good.” You dig your nails into the skin of her shoulders the more she pushes in. “I’ll pull out, I promise princess.” Carol says which has you nodding a tear slipping down your cheek from the painful stretch.

You can feel the head of Carol’s cock on every ridge of your walls. Her cock slowly fills you full until she has sheathed herself inside of you. As a few tears fall she wipes them gently from your cheeks and kisses you softly, waiting for you to give her the go ahead to move. Your stretched walls feeling every vein and ridge of her cock. The pain slowly dissipates to something more manageable. You wrap your legs around Carol’s hips and grind lightly gasping at the feeling. Carol smirks slowly pulling back before lightly thrusting back in. She keeps a slow pace, her walls still stretching around her cock.

Small moans fall from your lips as your walls get used to the feeling of being stretched. Carol snaps her hips a little too hard when she thrust which has you whimpering. “Sorry baby girl, so sorry.” She moans. “You just feel so good. So fucking tight.” All you can manage is a nod, words hard to form. Carol slowly builds her thrust up to a nice steady pace. The pain melts into pleasure.

“Fuck so good for me. This pussy was made for me princess. Wraps around me so perfectly.” Carol grunts the gentle slapping of her hips against yours. Your hips bucking on their own accord the new found pleasure intoxicating to you. “S-so good.” Carol’s head pressed against yours as she continued thrusting. Her eyes fixed on yours watching your face morphing into one of pleasure. Your hands slipping to her back and digging your nails in. She moans at the sting as her hips speed up more. There is still pain mixed with pleasure as she pounds into you. A new feeling you never want to stop.

Both of your orgasms are building. Carol angles her hips to where the head of her cock brushes against that spot deep inside of you, having you moaning loudly, closing your eyes and dragging your nails down her back. “O-ohhhh.” Your back arching closer as you feel Carol’s chest against yours. Your hurtling towards your second orgasm as your walls flutter around Carol’s length. “Fuck princess your squeezing me so good.” Carol pants above you, her cock twitching as she gets close.

“I’m going to fill this pussy so good. Fucking fill you so full of my seed. Maybe just get your pregnant so you're mine forever.” Carol grunts with every thrust. Your mind turns to mush as you nod along to the words falling from her lips. “Please Daddy.” Your nails are digging deeper into her back, drawing some blood. Not even noticing the words that slip from your mouth. Carol smirks her hips rutting into yours.

Carol’s hand slips between your bodies reaching your clit and pressing her finger into the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your whimpers and moans echoing off the walls. With the added pressure on your clit you're so close. “Please s-so close.” You whine desperate to cum again. Carol is right there with you. “Cum with me princess.” Carol moans as she thrust a few more times before her hips stutter. Your walls squeezing her length so tight as you cum. Your nails scratching more at her back, your back arching impossibly closer to her. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your body trembles below her. Carol feeling you cum follows not that far behind you filling you full as her hips twitch.

You're both panting as you both come down from your high. Your eyes open to see Carol’s wide slightly panicked eyes. Your eyes widening when you realize why her eyes are so wide as you feel her cum dribbling out around her cock. “I-I’m so sorry Y/n. I got carried away a-and you felt so good.” Deep down she actually hoped that maybe you would get pregnant from this but knows that you might not be ready for that. You're quiet for a moment processing what just happened. “I-it’s okay. You didn’t mean to.” You try to reassure her still being panicked since you aren’t on any birth control.

Carol pulls out of you slowly as you wince feeling a bit sore. “Sorry princess.” Carol says seeing you wince in pain. She gets up quickly going to the bathroom and getting a washcloth to clean you both off. She comes back before gently cleaning you up before she wipes herself off. She throws the washcloth on the floor to clean up later before crawling into bed. You instantly move to curl up into her side, laying your head on her chest. She wraps her arms around you tightly.

The room is quiet for a few minutes before Carol breaks the silence. “I’m sorry.” She mumbles. You look up at her with your chin on her chest and a small smile on your face. “It’s okay. It felt really good actually.” You blush, hiding your face in her chest which makes her laugh. “I love you.” Carol chuckles until she realizes what she said. You lift your head to look up at her with a smile on your face. “I love you too Carol.” You lean up to kiss her, both of you smiling into the kiss. You pull back, settling back into her arms as you draw patterns on her chest. Both of you are happy to be in each other's arms and in love.

#carol danvers x you #carol danvers x y/n #carol danvers x reader #carol x reader #carol danvers smut #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader smut #carol danvers x fem!reader #carol danvers x female reader #new fic #fic request

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togrowoldinv · 8 months

Text

Assistant

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Natalie Rushman is the new assistant to hotshot attorney y/n.

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, fingering (N receiving), oral (R receiving), Wanda

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

“Good morning, Ms. y/l/n,” you hear a voice ring out from the threshold of your office.

Annoyed by the interruption, you sigh and look up to see who might be bothering you at this hour. You don’t expect to be met with a beautiful redheaded woman, but your curiosity is peaked.

“Who might you be?” you ask the woman.

She enters the office further before she speaks again. “I’m Natalie Rushman, your new assistant.”

You don’t recall interviewing any new assistant candidates, but then again, it’s probably something that your subordinate took care of for you. You didn’t have time for the task.

“Well, Natalie. I have a few rules,” you say with a smirk.

“I’m listening,” she fires back quickly. You think you are going to like her.

“First, you have to think ahead. If you are two steps ahead, you’re already a step behind,” you explain. “Second, I expect you to work when I work. The days and nights are long.”

“I’m up for the challenge,” Natalie replies.

“And finally, do not ask me about anything personal. We’re not here to be friends. We’re here to do a job. Understood?”

“Understood,” she says. There’s a look in her eyes that you can’t quite read, but you ignore it for now.

“Okay then. Welcome to the greatest law firm in the country. Get to work, Ms. Rushman.”

With that, she gets up and goes to her desk outside your door. She doesn’t ask any questions the entire day but seemingly knows exactly when to provide you with assistance.

It’s a month before you truly challenge her at her job. She hears you in your office having a heated conversation with your true rival.

“Wanda, drop the case. Or you won’t like what happens,” you say sternly. You’re standing behind your desk as the other woman challenges you from the other side.

“I’ll take my chances, sweetheart,” she says condescendingly. “See you in court!” Wanda shouts, flipping you off as she walks out of the office.

You notice Natalie watching from her desk.

“In here now,” you command her.

“Yes, Ms. y/l/n?”

You sit back in your chair and rack your brain for what you could actually ask for help with.

“I need everything we have on Wanda Maximoff,” you say.

“Absolutely. On what case?”

“Not a case. On the woman herself.”

“But-”

“This is what I meant by thinking ahead. I’m sorry, can you not do what I’m asking of you?” You are losing your patience. No one quite gets under your skin as Wanda does.

“Consider it done,” Natalie changes her stance at your tone.

She leaves your office to go put a team together to dig up dirt on Wanda, or at least you assume so. You get to work on your own.

By the time Natalie returns with a folder of information, you have already found out the worst details about Wanda.

“What?” you ask the woman as she sits across from you. She is looking you over a little too closely.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, please tell me,” you encourage her, but it is sarcastic in demand.

“Is this really a good idea? To go after her, I mean,” she says.

You stand up from your desk and pace to the drink cart in frustration.

“Why would it be a bad idea? Natalie, she is going after one of my most important clients. I cannot let them sign with her!”

“But why go after her and not her work?” she challenges you.

“I don’t pay you to ask me personal questions.” The sternness of your voice makes Natalie blink hard at you, but she isn’t quite finished.

“I’m sure it was really shitty what Wanda did to you, but you don’t mix business with pleasure, so your logic doesn’t follow,” Natalie explains.

“Just stop, Natalie. I don’t care what you think! Do your goddamn job and stay out of my business!” You slam your hand on your desk in the midst of your anger.

Natalie holds her hands up in surrender and leaves your office. You sit down with a sigh. You never felt bad about yelling at anyone before, but how she looked at you when you did was enough to make you ponder why you felt guilty now.

About thirty minutes later, a food delivery person approaches Natalie’s desk.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think we ordered anything,” she tells them.

You step out of your office to greet them at the same moment.

“I got us dinner,” you say. You tip the deliverer and gesture for Natalie to follow you into your office.

She sits across from you at the table you often use to work over case files. You get out the food and hand her a share.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” you begin. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It’s alright. I didn’t follow your rules,” Natalie says. You think she bats her eyes at you, but maybe it’s a figment of your imagination.

“So, tomorrow night is a party for all of the attorneys in the city. It’s a good networking event,” you say. “I need you to come with me so we can get some leads.”

“I’ll be there,” Natalie replies. “I can contact your designer. What kind of dress do you want?”

“Mm, I was kind of thinking of a suit. What do you think?”

“I think you’d look amazing in anything,” she says.

You oddly feel heat creep up your neck in reaction to her words.

“Tell them you need clothes too. A dress, a suit, whatever your choice is. It’s on me,” you tell her.

Natalie smirks at you and puts a reminder on her calendar to get those outfits. She leaves your office.

The next day starts normally. You get to work early, and Natalie is already there with a coffee for you. You work on your case against Wanda, and you do start to wonder if you should be going after her like this. What Natalie said about mixing business with pleasure is getting to you.

You’re interrupted at midday by your clothes for the evening arriving.

“Here you are, Ms. y/l/n,” Natalie says as she hangs your suit in the closet. It’s red velvet and maybe too extra, but you know Wanda will dress to impress. You want to stand out.

“What did you get?” You ask her.

“Oh, just a simple black dress,” Natalie answers.

“Great. Have the driver here at 7pm.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natalie says. She leaves your office again.

That night the driver is right on time. You walk down to the front of the building and Natalie stands next to the car. Your eyes can’t help but see the way her dress frames her hips and breasts. There’s no denying your attraction to her now.

“Good evening, Ms. y/l/n,” she greets you.

“Natalie,” you say. She doesn’t miss the way your eyes rake over her.

You get into the backseat, and she follows after you. She is fielding calls during the drive. Oddly, she doesn’t mention you once and you begin to wonder who she is talking to. The thoughts leave your mind as you arrive at the party.

When you walk in, the attention of the room falls on you. You greet Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and Carol Danvers. Three attorneys that work with Wanda. If anyone has dirt on the woman, it’s them. But you’re surprisingly cordial with the trio.

Natalie follows behind you as you settle into the party. You find a spot at the bar for a break from the socializing.

“You look stunning,” a voice suddenly comes from behind you. It’s Wanda.

“Fuck you,” you mumble, not even giving her the time of day.

“Hello,” she speaks to Natalie this time. “I’m Wanda.”

You can see Natalie shake her hand out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m Natalie, Ms. y/l/n’s assistant,” she says.

“Right. You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere?” Wanda asks.

That piques your attention. You turn around to watch the women interact.

“Just the other day at the office,” Natalie quips quickly. A little too quickly.

Wanda is going to say something more but Stark gathers everyone’s attention for a toast. Wanda walks towards the man, leaving you and Natalie at the bar.

“What was that about?” You ask her.

“I have no idea,” she answers. You wonder if she’s lying. If she is, then she’s damn good at it.

Once Tony finishes his speech, he hands off the microphone to Steve. His statement is quick, and full of wisdom like usual. Carol is next and she’s supposed to be last, but Wanda takes the microphone.

You feel Natalie move closer to you.

“As some of you know, I have just closed a huge client,” Wanda begins. Your pace quickens. How could she already be announcing this when nothing is set in stone? You thought for sure you had the client convinced to stay with you. “And I want to celebrate that tonight. Thanks to the rest of the Stark, Rogers, Danvers team for helping me achieve this goal. And thank you to y/n y/l/n for giving up this client.”

You’ve had enough and you charge towards Wanda. Natalie tries to hold you back, but it’s no use.

“What the fuck?” you yell at her. “The client hasn’t signed with you! And they won’t!”

“Oh, but they have,” Wanda says.

“Bullshit,” you reply.

“Bishop,” she calls for her assistant. The young girl hands her a document. “It’s right here.”

“This must be fake,” you counter.

“It’s real. Trust me.”

“Never again,” you say. It’s loaded with meaning. “You’re a fraud.”

You storm out of the ballroom. Natalie follows after you, her presence notable as you enter the bathroom.

“Leave me alone,” you tell her.

“Y/n,” Natalie says. She never addresses you by your first name. “Listen to me.”

You look up to meet her green eyes. She looks worried about you.

“Wanda needed to take that client,” Natalie says. Her words shock you.

“Why? Did you help her?” You get no response. “Natalie, did you fucking help her?”

“Trust me on this one.”

“You’ve given me no reason to. First, you tried to convince me to stop going after her, and now this. Are you working for her? You’re some kind of undercover agent, is that it?”

“I- okay y/n, I am going to be honest with you,” she says.

“About damn time.”

“I work for SHIELD and they assigned me to make sure that Wanda got that client. They have been wanting to go for her for years, but they needed an in. Your client, her client, is up to some shady shit,” Natasha explains.

“What’s your real name?” You ask. She didn’t expect that to be your first question.

“Natasha,” she says. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Well, Natasha I’m very angry with you,” you say. She nods. She understands. “But I guess I owe you one.”

“I wish we had met under different circumstances,” Natasha says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe then I could’ve made a move on you,” she admits.

You can’t help but smile at that. So, she was flirting all of this time.

“Can I ask if you handed the client over to Wanda?” You ask her. You know the answer. She seems like the kind of woman who knows how to complete a task.

“It was for your own good. And it’s a chance for you to see your ex-wife fall,” Natasha says.

You nod. Your history with Wanda wasn’t widely public, but Natasha found out while digging up dirt on the woman.

“I think you can make this up to me,” you say. Natasha quirks her eyebrow. “You said I would look good in a suit, so do you think I would look good with it off?”

Natasha comes closer to you. You’re pressed against the bathroom sink. Anyone could come in, but you don’t care. The woman reaches out and unbuttons your pants. She slides them down your legs, keeping eye contact the entire time.

“Wait,” you say before she kneels in front of you. She pauses her movements. “Is this a part of the mission?”

“No,” Natasha says. “This is me wanting to make things right with us.”

You gesture for her to continue. Natasha lowers onto her knees and gets right to work. You have no time to waste. And god, is she good at this. Nat licks through your fold and takes your clit into her mouth. She sucks while her fingers find their way into you.

Being here with such a beautiful woman having such risky sex makes it easy for you to come quickly.

“Fuck, Natasha!” You shout as you come hard against her.

She licks you clean and stands back up. She wears a sweet smile.

“That was even better than I imagined,” Nat says.

“Yeah.”

“You imagined it?”

“I imagined bending you over my desk and fucking you until you couldn’t walk,” you tell her. She grins and finally kisses you.

The kiss is filthy as her tongue mingles with yours. You take control and turn her to sit on the counter. Lifting up her dress, you pull her panties to the side and bring your fingers through her wetness.

“Great dress choice tonight, baby,” you tell her.

Nat moans at the feeling of your fingers sliding into her. She is more than ready for you.

“I picked it for you,” Natasha says. “I was hoping this might happen.”

“Mm, bad girl,” you say. Natasha’s body jerks at your words and the feeling of you being deep inside of her. “Did you want me to punish you for lying to me?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” Natasha says. Her voice is raspy.

“I don’t like to be lied to, Natalie,” you use her alias. It turns her on further.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Nat says.

“You better be,” your voice is cold as you continue to move inside her.

With a few more strokes, Nat comes apart. You keep your fingers moving as she has the best orgasm of her life.

“Fuck, Ms. y/l/n,” Natasha whimpers. “I’m sensitive.”

“One more,” you tell her. She bites her lip. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“One more,” she agrees.

You move your fingers quicker again. She is already close. When you lean in and kiss her lips, she is done for. All of the days she had imagined doing this with you had finally come to fruition.

“That’s a good girl, Nat,” you say.

You remove your fingers, and she puts them into her mouth. She licks them clean. The sight is downright pornographic.

“Are you sure you can’t stay on as my assistant?” You ask. “I’d love to fuck you like this on my desk every day.”

“How about I be your spy girlfriend?” Natasha asks. You knew she’d recover from her orgasms quickly and have a quippy reply to you.

“Deal,” you say.

Just then the door opens and Wanda walks in. She sees you and Natasha tangled together and your pants down around your ankles.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says, turning around and leaving.

You and Natasha can’t help but chuckle together. A wonderful spy girlfriend she will definitely make.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff smut

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capslocked · 1 year

Text

SEVEN

male reader x sana minatozaki

10k words

Sana Minatozaki can go fuck herself.

That’s your measured opinion. You don’t care where she is. Dead, six feet under, beyond the veil, wherever—so long as someone gives her a proper kick to the rear.

Eyes are up from their desks, turning onto you, horrified maybe. Then again, your fists are clenched and your elbows locked as you maintain a pace that begs to break into a run. If there’s a scowl on your face, you doubt its efficacy all at the rainwater in your shoes squeaking on the end of every step.

A promotion was how it had all been pitched to you: fated, bound, hands tied to this incorrigible bag of hot air. If the ship’s going down, set to fail, you’ll be right there with her, and you can feel the water pooling at your feet, figuratively speaking.

"So?" Sana commits to the question once you’ve got yourself halfway through the door to your office, dripping wet. It’s unconvincingly casual. "You wanted to see me?"

A tragedy; in fact, you want nothing less, but it’s in the job description, a necessary evil. The baker bakes. The cobbler cobbles. And the manager manages, supposedly—you’ve mostly just been tearing your hair out.

"Honest to god," you say, and you’ve never meant it more in your life, "I think I’m starting to understand it now. This whole revolving door of staff and management these past couple months."

Sana tilts her head onto this inquisitive angle, and a bundle of copper hair falls across her cheek before getting dragged back behind her ear. "Oh? And what all did you figure out?"

"That you’re a royal pain in the ass," you answer, untangling your arms from the soaked sleeves of your coat. "And a lot more trouble than you’re worth."

"Well." The word is accompanied by a ridiculous sigh and the sound of her tongue clicking against her teeth. "You don’t suppose that’s on you? No one promised you it’d be easy."

There’s a quiet pause, Sana slants her lips into a smirk, and that’s more or less how it always starts between you.

"No one promised anything," you grumble.

Of course, the writing was on the wall, probably in big, bold letters too, you don’t know—you weren’t too interested in reading it—there were more important things on your mind. Fame; wealth; success; bragging rights; you’ll only let yourself call it hubris once you’ve really stepped in it, finally found something you couldn’t talk your way out of, come up with reason to believe there would be no digging yourself out. But until then—

"By the way…" Sana’s voice trails as she leans into the arm of the sofa, cheek resting on her hand, and then she furrows a manicured brow. "Why are you, like, totally soaked?"

You’re lenient or something, so it’s a question of your own you’ll trade with her, undoubtedly a better deal than she deserved. "Okay, sure then—let’s get into it. What’s your guess? Why is it do you think I had to chase down some jagoff in the middle of a damn rainstorm?" You toss Sana’s phone from the soaked pocket of your pants onto the table, and she watches it bounce and flip until it rests screen-side down. "It’s unlocked I guess. So, why don’t you do me a favor and just help me get out in front of it all; what the fuck did you have on there?"

"Oh." Her voice fills with worry, head cocked anxiously. She seems completely taken aback, but like with most things, it’s all just a front, you’ve learned—and here, you couldn’t be more on the nose. She holds back a laugh, adding, "photos, videos—I mean, I don’t know, it could be anything. I’m a little disappointed you didn’t check yourself."

"Sana," you groan. It’d be foolish not to believe her; it really could be anything, but that’s beside the point. You find the edge of your desk with your thighs, lean back, and you’re shaking your head. "The next time some shameless opportunist stumbles upon your phone and that meticulous archive of bad decisions, maybe I ought to just let you deal with it."

She raises her eyebrows at you, mulling it over for a second like she was ever once invested in being useful. "That’s like, what the publicists are for aren’t they?"

Sana’s young, you remind yourself. It’s good practice. But she’s old enough to know better, what all she’s doing, how dangerous she can be. It’s not like her praises are hard to come by around the office: the beautiful Sana Minatozaki, an angel among us, she’s perfect! If you can hear them in passing through the glass windows of your office, so can she; they’re right on the money, mostly, but you’re also not so easily fooled—or rather, you aren’t anymore. See, you get in front of a girl like her, and she’s got these big, bright, beautiful eyes, a face that never fails to be the most charming in the room without boasting about itself, a body like that, legs like those—

"Look." You blink several times.

Caught yourself staring.

"I mean, sure—but I can’t imagine that’s going to be an easy one to spin."

She cocks an eyebrow in something like curiosity. "What’s not going to be?"

"The video Sana—the one where you’ve got your lips around some cock like it’s a cheap homemade porno."

"So then, you did take a look," she says, rising onto the pointed tips of a pair of black heels. It’s a sign, an omen, a premonition—the renewed smirk on her lips that speaks louder than that soft, measured voice of hers might ever dare. "Hard opportunity to pass up, huh?"

"For god’s sake—" Going with your gut, you cross your arms. And your voice searches frantic for a commanding tone. "If it isn’t my job to know how you’ve fucked up."

"And I so very much appreciate all your wonderful effort," she over-enunciates through each syllable of your name. That same exact pleasantry she’d wish to the staff and crew at the end of a photo shoot, a recording, some nonsense event or another—only now, it’s derisive, laced with this sarcastic edge that is anything but subtle.

"It isn’t funny, Sana."

"Do you see me laughing?"

You don’t. Though there’s still a lot to see admittedly, a lot to take in, most of it beyond damning. A long leg of hers ruffles and furls the bottom of her dress until she’s a step closer, two steps now actually. You can take your pick—start at the bottom up or from the top down, and the result is just about the same by the time you’ve gotten to her tiny waist: she’s gorgeous.

For a lot of reasons however, you’re not about to leer.

Her shoulders square to yours and you remind yourself she’s not very tall; even in those ridiculous heels, she comes up just shy of your nose. Between you and absolutely nobody else, you have considered it, let it fill an evening of fantasy or two—how she might bend and fold, how her small, tight body might be best put to use, the faces she’d make cumming on your cock, the sound of her straining voice when you really—

No, you’re absolutely not leering.

"I’m serious," you hear yourself say, and it’s shaky, struggling to come across resolute, hardly anything convincing. "Just keep on fucking around—I promise you; you’re on your own."

"Oh, is that so?" She smiles again, and you note how it deepens a dimple in each cheek. "And when it all comes crashing down—how should I ask that the director refer to you in their letter to the board: idiot or incompetent?"

Eyes glowing, she seems wholly uninterested in the stark departure from how she normally needles you—all that subtext and words unsaid. You simply raise an eyebrow. There’s a pause, and she raises one back.

"Ahem," you try to recover.

Sana leans into you, one hand on either side of your waist, palms flat on your desk. And there’s that thought running a muck in your head again: all those musings about power dynamics, authority, subordination, governance, whatever it is this mess is you’ve gotten yourself into. It’s comical. You’d never once had a problem with any of your previous assignments. Dahyun? Delightful. Tzuyu—a total saint. Nayeon might as well have managed herself. It’s unclear when or how, but the woman in front of you had puzzled out that she was capable of anything—destruction, demolition, devastation. You knew it; she knew it too; Sana could ruin you.

"Hmm?" she adds, smug and indignant.

"I’ve given it some thought," you start, letting a heavy sigh roll through your chest like that’s ever been some herald of a rousing speech. But there is a plan, or at least what you’d learned about in those binders and seminars on this kind of stuff. "Look, to be honest, you’re going to hate me for it—but we’re going to be moving to some sort of curfew; until all this gets sorted out."

"A curfew?" Her eyebrows twist, disappointed.

"Among other things," you say, and now you’re digging a heel into the dirt of this forsaken partnership. "No more clubs."

"No more clubs?"

"No boys, no bars, and for god’s sake Sana—no fucking filming yourself having sex."

"No boys?" she gawks like it’s the most egregious of what you’d asked, mouth dropping agape in this faux outrage.

"Just until we hit a groove; figure out what works; find our rhythm."

"Find our rhythm?"

"You can stop repeating me."

"You can stop repea—" She takes a beat to swallow down the rare slip-up, eyes looking for even a momentary weakness in yours. But you’re a professional; she comes up empty. Her brows relax and she tilts her head. "Reprimanding me."

Your voice, finally solidifying in its fitful composure, opens into a complaint, "it’s honestly a shock to me you know—how you’ve lasted this long. In this industry, like this."

You lean back, chest tightening, acutely aware that her eyes refuse to leave yours.

"They always say that." And she’s grinning, ear to ear, again. This time, you’re gazing—the shape of her lips, the pretty things swelling and curving into that fine little point beneath her nose. A finger lands on your chest and she’s determined to cross a boundary or two.

You swallow again at the dryness in your throat. "Really."

"You know what else they always say?"

"If you think I’m about to guess, you’d be—"

"Curfew," she mocks, voice hitting at an unrealistically low register. It’s rather heartless the way she rolls her eyes, deceiving the roundness in her cheeks, the ever-so-perfect waves in her hair, the intoxicating charm that is her image. "No boys, no bars, no—"

"So, you’re telling me," you interrupt, more than satisfied with the imitation, "that in six months, six different managers, six different calamities, I’m not the first person to suggest some structure? Color me shocked Sana."

"No. You’re not. But this is the part where you tell me: Sana, I’m a professional. And you’ve got your hands out like you don’t want it and you’re backing up into the desk, bumbling and stuttering like you’re not losing control." One more step into you, and it’s evil, wicked, sinful the way you’re noticing it all: the pretty little details in her eyes, her cheeks, her smile. "I always say the same thing; I’m a professional too ya know. And I just so happen to be in the business of making people want me."

The motion is inelegant given what you’re sure she’s capable of, the way her hand cups your crotch. It sounds silly when you say it like that, but that’s just kind of how it happens.

"Sana—"

"Wow. You’re like, so fucking wet down here." She laughs to herself, having now found some comedy in it all. "That’s usually what they say too."

There’s a smug glimmer in her eyes when she finds you, the semi-hardened jut at the rise of your pants, fingers happily mapping out your shape beneath all the damp fabric. It’s more than just a boundary, and this searing heat starts to lick at your jaw. You’d grab her wrists, wrestle her away, but you’re not confident how it might all go if you start touching her; pin one behind her back, bend her against the desk; hell, she’s probably not wearing anything under that—okay, now you’re leering.

You swallow hard at the absolute casualness about her light fingers, undoing the belt and button at the waist of your pants. "So now what?" you ask, as though you were incapable of putting two and two together, as if you hadn’t been privy to these kind of rumors for months. "You’re going to bargain your way out?"

"Bargain?" She scoffs, and even that’s a pretty noise—the sound of it running through your head where it twists into moans, squeals and whimpers. Her eyes light up, and you’re hopeless, coming undone. "Isn’t that charitable. Like you haven’t been dying to stick your cock in me for weeks."

"Sana." Your last chance at professionalism, at propriety; so, abysmally it’s just her name that falls out of your mouth. But that’s how it comes together—or perhaps it falls apart—your cautionary tale, The Story of Manager Number Seven you’ll call it. It’s ruinous, it’s disastrous, worst of all—it’s instinct.

"Don’t waste the effort." Her chin cocks up and you’re left staring down the barrel. "Besides, I’m just saying the quiet part out loud, aren’t I?"

You doubt you’ll be around to meet manager number eight, and you’re certain one will come to be—maybe they’ll even read your memoirs; you wish them luck. Because the truth is, and you hate to say it, she’s got you all figured out.

Right from the jump, Sana confirms all your suspicions: she’s incredibly selfish. Pulling, gnawing, grabbing at your lower lip until it starts to swell, she hops up onto your desk. Something critical snaps, a cable cut, and you’re following right along with her. Each and every sinful step surely on a path to damnation.

"Well?" she asks, expectant and landing kisses on your cheek.

A whole assortment of paperweights, papers, pens, things that have been little use to you, crash onto to the floor. "Anything I want?" you ask, repeating yourself, unable to tire of its answer. "What if I’m - well, for lack of a better word, a total freak? Deal still on the table?"

"Hah." Sana smirks again—it’s kind of her thing, you’ve come to realize, but now you feel it on your skin. Her fingers are working down the front of your damp shirt, and she answers with a bluntness that leaves you feeling if anything, a little insulted, "You’re not."

"And what then, I suppose you know everything there is to know about me?" You’ve got your hands on her waist when you realize she’s not wrong. You’re not. But the shape of her body, under your fingertips, from just above where her hips narrow, it is everything you imagined it might be: wholly divine and capable of anything. You’ll ruin it—it just might ruin you too.

"Trust me, there’s a type," she laughs, "you come in here every day…" The sleeves of your shirt fall around your shoulders, and her gaze makes this journey about you, a momentary glance, and her eyebrow lifts as if to say not bad or this will do. "Same suit, same shoes, same coffee, same frustrated look on your face—just trust me."

She’s got it pretty dead on, not that you really care; you’re just not that kind of guy. But the way she says it, with such confidence, that’s a challenge. Oh, it’s probably to your detriment; you’ve always been competitive—you’ll surprise her. "I guess we’ll see."

You bury a hand into her hair before she has the chance to get on with the next snarky thought or another, and her head is tilted back, lips parting for you. Your tongues meet, first in your mouth, then in hers. Humming gently, Sana’s voice fills your throat, and all that hangs in the balance is rushing through your thoughts again—go ahead, mark your calendar; today’s the day you’ve thrown your career away. Because when you push her legs apart, her dress finally all hiked up around her tiny waist, and you’ve got your finger against the lace fabric across her entrance—

"Fuck," she gasps into your mouth, at least you think she does. It’s a good guess considering those nails, manicured and polished into sharp points, sinking into your shoulders. Her hips push themselves into you, pressing more of that fabric into your touch. You follow it down, trace it with your finger, dragging the loose-fitting lace along the way, and her folds nearly wrap around you, begging.

Your lips smack, spit trailing off them when you pull yourself back. You’re both catching your breath and it’s your turn to be smug, "I think this is the part where I say, wow Sana, you’re so fucking wet down here."

"Just stick to the script, and I promise I’ll go easy on you," she says, voice cold and calculated, as if her lip doesn’t wince every time you swirl the pads of your fingers over her mound.

Day by day, brick by brick, Sana’s broken you down to this. And now the smell of her hair in your nose, the taste of her lips filling your mouth, the feeling of that tender skin spreading between your fingers—you’re beyond fucked, she’s necessity.

You’ve sunk to your knees, and apparently the feeling is mutual; her hands pushing down on your shoulders as you go, impatient, greedy even. You start from her calf, down the length of a thigh, considering how it might bruise and mar, the taut pale skin a fresh canvas for your work. It’s a mistake, or you’re moving too slow, some transgression or another—isn’t it always? There’s a stifled groan off her lips, and she’s got her legs wrapping over your shoulders, heels clacking when she digs them into your back, pulling you into her. But you’ve earned it—you’re usually the one making demands, and it’s your turn to ignore them.

"What’s all this, hmm?" Her fingers thread through your hair, pulling you away from the kisses, licks and nibbles you find all over the curve of her thigh, the places you’ve only buried and turned over in your thoughts for weeks. "You think you’re going to, like, make me fall in love with you or something? Get me so hot and bothered, I scream out, please, anything! I need you!" She gets her hand firm on your jaw, eyes smoldering something into yours like they’re stamping out a cigarette. "It’s actually kinda cute."

"Maybe. Then again, I’m not the one gushing through my underwear at the thought of getting fucked." Your fingers are hooking into her panties when you thoroughly catch the look on her face one last time—it’ll be worth remembering. You let yourself laugh through your words, "so I mean, I guess that’s up to you."

"Careful what you wish for." If she’s wagging a finger, you can’t see it, buried between Sana’s thighs. "Or I swear I’ll fuck all that attitude out of you."

"I’m kinda counting on it."

You’re talking about it like it’s casual, like this dereliction of duty has any other outcome than your ass on the curb or her name into scandalous obscurity. You catch it briefly, the eyebrow jumping and the haughty laugh out her nose; she really is pretty, even when she abandons that whole front, the delicate projection of sweet innocence and mild mischief. Who knows—maybe you prefer it now, all the more that the expression on her face is yours to pull apart.

Tightening her thighs on you, holding you firm, Sana cooperates only in so far as to help a pair of underwear roll down a leg and onto her ankle, and her pussy’s there, shimmering and glistening at you, an open invitation for your tongue—you’ll get around to it, but not until you’ve had your fill of everything else that’s been driving you nuts for weeks on end.

She swallows hard and snaps, "Why the hell are you teasing me?"

You’ve said it before, you’ll say it again, "boy Sana, you’re real mouthy today." A finger on her lips, brushing the surface of her aching entrance again, and she pulls a short tight breath past her teeth. "Aren’t you?"

"Then maybe you can stop fucking around and just get to—"

It doesn’t matter what she was going to say. It gets all caught and stuck in her throat on the way up so bad that you know it wasn’t important. The more pressing matter, your tongue against her clit, is about how the muscles in her stomach jerk and spasm about. That touch, it’s like it electrifies her. The lilting groan however—the one she fails to choke back—that’s from your finger you reckon, pushing its way inside her. You add another one for good measure. She can take it. She’ll take more.

"Shit," Sana mumbles, sucking on her lip, and then before a tiny punched-out breath punctuates the thought, she releases it, letting her mouth hang open when you find her swollen nub in yours, sucking and teasing without too much consideration. The shoe’s on the other foot: each brush of your fingers against her, where you’ve found her, and she shakes, hips jolting around you. Given that you’ve been laboring without any useful results to lead, direct, govern this girl for weeks, you’re chuckling out your nose that it’s now, like this, that she finally becomes anything close to compliant.

Whatever clutter’s still left on your desk rattles. Sana’s leaning back into it now, elbows propping up her small torso, and she steadies herself, failing against your tongue, your lips, especially your fingers. Her cheeks flood with this brilliant shade of pink, and she’s inching off the desk trying to force as much of herself into your mouth where you find her so wet you can feel her dripping down her chin. Even though you’ve never been the type, you can’t help yourself—licking around her quivering lips, around where she clearly needs you, you find yourself teasing, "What do you know Sana? I think I’ve lost my place in the script—you always cum this fast or…"

She shoots you a glare despite the blush staining her cheeks, but when her mouth opens to voice a complaint, you’ve got her mewling again—a cruel pace set into your fingers, creating this absolute mess between her thighs. Her palms slap the table, and she’s breathing in fits and starts, something akin to anticipation. She’s close and she knows it. In fact, you know it too, considering she’s so soaked her taste lingers long in your mouth when you stand yourself up, fingers still buried in her cunt.

"Ohhh… that’s it, right there, fucking hell," she whines, and the ends of her words are soaked in these rasping moans. "I can’t—fuck!"

"Sana," you start, and she’s dodging your eyes, ashamed at the twist on her face, the way her brows knit all at that squelching pleasure between her legs. It seems her pride may still have its limits.

"I’m gonna—" Her expression freezes, and that’s when you think you have her, but she keeps going. For a while. There’s only that loud, messy noise on your fingers in the shallow heat of her pussy until she decides she’s going to collapse into it all. Her eyes shut, and you watch as Sana realizes the bound of her voice to be no more than a hushed whisper, each utterance filling with these needy gasping breaths that rack her whole body, "I’m gonna - I’m gonna - I’m gonna - I’m gonna—"

Her hips buck and jump, dragging herself along the shape of your fingers and she swallows down a husked moan. And then another. Until finally, she’s crying out.

"Fu—ah! I’m cumming!" Sana manages, and only now you’re believing her, the words on the verge of tears. "I’m cumming - I’m cumming—"

Mouth agape, some silent curse or another, she locks up. It’s a whole look—you tuck it away somewhere, the score still horrifically in her favor, but at least you’re finally on the board. "There you go," you whisper, knowing your assurances make it all the more embarrassing, "That’s a good girl Sana; just keep cumming for me."

It’s the smoldering heat quivering on your fingers, the first words of praise out of your mouth in god knows how long, those office supplies still falling to the floor as you suspend her in anguished pleasure—it undoes her. You’ve never seen her like this. Your fingers gliding through the mess of her aching cunt, you have to see more.

"Fuck—" she huffs.

You can nearly see the bright red flush on her cheeks peek out through the hands she’d thrown up to cover her face.

"—you," she finishes, and it’s a little more on brand.

When you reach down to pull her hands away, to kiss her, there’s no resistance—she’s putty, malleable, whatever you need her to be. She squirms when you pull your fingers out from inside her, sloppy and messy with her own cum, but you’re more shocked at how easily she lets you put them in her mouth. That’s a development. And you’re not going to be shy to say it. It’s fucking hot.

"Sana…" your voice trails as she hums on your fingers, her tongue gently finding the space between them. Her cheeks still burning, the way she sucks and licks her taste off you has you stuck daydreaming how it will look, how it will feel when it’s your cock between her perfect lips.

A light knock lands on the door to your office. Twice. And when that second knock does arrive, it has your stomach jumping into your chest. It’s unfortunate, but you’ll have to keep imagining.

"One second!" you shout out, realizing now you’ve never once had the blinds drawn or the door locked. It’s not a great look; hopefully you’re overthinking it. You pull your shirt off the floor and prance toward the door.

Sana sits herself up, brings her dress back down around her thighs and plops herself right back down on the sofa where you found her. Steadying her breath and watching you quietly spread apart the blinds with your fingers, she wipes a lash from her eye, asking, "Who is it?"

"Dahyun." You rise on the toes of your shoes to get a better look. The black hair pulled back into a ponytail and those wide lenses sitting across the bridge of her nose more than clue you in. "I think."

"What does she want?"

"Hell if I know."

"Well, let her in."

The last button on your shirt comes together and you’re opening the door—slowly. "Yeah?"

"Hey. Sana here?" Dahyun asks as though there’s nothing out of the ordinary. She sticks her head into the opening further until she’s half in your office, half out. Innocently unaware of the scene she’d just interrupted, her lips snap to this toothy grin and it becomes a pitiful reminder of the countless days you toiled to get where you are—responsible, respected, time specifically not spent fucking Sana with your fingers.

"Oh hey hello," Sana nearly sings, and her voice is no where near rasped like it just was. It’s a little incredible honestly how she springs back, elastic. Still preening her hair back into something close enough to perfection, she asks, "What can I do for ya?"

Dahyun scans you head to toe, taking a full confident step into your office as you open the door further. She lifts a disapproving eyebrow. "Wow. You look awful by the way."

You let out this heavy, labored sigh. "Yeah, well, the rain, and the—"

"He’s had a rough go at today," says Sana, filling in the rest with only what’s prudent.

Dahyun looks at Sana, then back to you and smiles with half her mouth. "Well, maybe you need it too—Nayeon’s got a tab open at the place on the corner opposite the station. The one with the weird windows. Told me to tell you."

"Sounds fun." The words come out of both Sana’s mouth and yours in this strange tandem. It sounds suspicious because it is; you’ve never once been in accord on anything.

"Yeah. Well. See you there or something, I guess." The door closes behind Dahyun and it takes a moment for the sound of your heartbeat to leave your ears.

"You mind handing me those?" Sana points to your desk, and your stomach drops when you see them: her wadded underwear sitting right in the middle of it all. "I kinda need ‘em."

You’re blocking it all out in your head, assessing the damage before you find yourself willfully distracted. It’s a spectacle even in reverse, Sana’s legs stretching out as she rolls the black lace back up her thighs.

"Thanks," she says, standing up and tossing those long copper locks of hair behind her shoulders. It could be a few things that earned you that gratitude, so you’re answering for all of them, "Yeah, no problem."

You’ve got your jacket back on, pulling your office back together into something orderly when you decide you’re going to try and repair more than just the room. "Look. Sana."

Her head tilts and a curtain of hair spills over her shoulder. She’s waiting on your words.

"I don’t care what you do—just do me a favor. Try to behave yourself. For your sake. All of that just now," you say, and your tongue clicks while you stew in discomfort. "Look. That was a mistake—"

"Oh?" Her voice pitches, and you’re left staring. It’s not long before she realizes you haven’t much of anything else to add, amused at the half words and sounds forming on your lips.

"I’ll tell you what we’re going to do." Sana wedges herself between you and the door, hands tucked behind her back, and her chin cocks up again. "You’re going to go home. You’re going to shower, get some decent clothes, and you’ll be at that bar."

Your lips tighten and your eyes narrow, a glance at the small wet stain lingering on your office’s sofa. "For what Sana?"

She laughs, really just a lovely sound—you shouldn’t be dwelling on it. You shouldn’t have already dwelled on it, but you abandoned prudence some time ago. Holding your eyes with hers, she lets her lip go from between her teeth and in a few simple words, she reminds you that you’ve really stepped in it.

"Cause - we’re - not - done." Another smile, and the dusty browns and grays in her eyes are as deep as ever. "I better see you at seven."

So, you’re sitting, sipping on something strong because it’s more than what you need when you notice there’s this line dividing the table, staff on one side, the usual suspects on the other. And you’re in the booth as well, disappointed there wasn’t some sort of larger crowd—something you might slip away into.

There are a few changes in seating when someone gets up to get more drinks or use the restroom or something like that. And it’s at the bottom of a rum and coke when Sana’s found the spot next to you, ever so slightly hanging on your shoulder—just absent enough that she might blame the alcohol, lean into it, play it up; present enough that it’s all you can think about.

"Hey," she says, once softly into your ear, and it’s overflowing with more suggestion than might ever fit into a single syllable. It registers; something clicks; you’ll play. Your gaze shifts around the table and back to where the neckline of her dress dips before it finds her.

"Hey." You’ve got it casual. At that, she smiles.

You’ll say something, and it’s got her laughing. Sana’s eyes are bright, cheery, and even though the lights are dimmed, you swear you’ve seen nothing prettier. Her head is on your shoulder and she tucks the corner of her lip between her teeth when you make her laugh again. She listens well. She speaks even better—clever, sharp-tongued, sharp-witted—making it look effortless. It’s magnetic. Hell, you don’t even notice her reeling you in, capturing you, cursing you. Perhaps it’s like this, outside of all that about rules and protocol—where she’s poised, presentable and balancing herself on the razor’s edge of this perfect image everyone’s come to expect from her—who couldn’t fall for her if just a little?

"I bet you’re still thinking about it," she whispers when she’s sure no one else is listening. "How your cock will stretch me. How you’ll use me."

Catching yourself, it is just a little you fall; god knows you’ve fallen further. There’s plenty of reason to take a pause, a breather, resume your worry—but you’re fixed on the lines of her face, serene and perfectly uncomplicated in the dim light, her expression full of simple joy. Though you trust her as far as that smile stretches across her lips, you’re watching closely as they part again.

"Let me tell you what I think…" Her hands land in your lap, asking questions whose answers might only be found where your cock struggles beneath the fabric of your pants. You’re sure someone’s bound to notice how close she is, hanging, clinging, wrapping herself around you. It’s like she wants to be caught—but fate isn’t so kind; a disaster it is that no one does. The stroke of fortune only ignites the hushed breath landing in your ear, "why don’t we, like, go find somewhere quiet?"

She’s duplicitous, destructive, deadly—spins lies for the sheer thrill of it, you’ve decided—a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But you’re leaning into it too, you’re allowing it, you’re letting her—you’ll be damned if you aren’t just one of the herd.

It started when Sana dragged you by the wrist across the length of the bar and leaned into your ear. She first asked about someplace more private, then she suggested the ladies’ room, then you scoffed about what a terrible idea it was and then she said I promise I won’t be too loud and you felt your entire body shift.

It’s rare for you to make mistakes, to slip up like this—especially like this—but then there Sana is, her back against the door of one of the stalls, chin up, the swell of her lip caught cruelly between her teeth, and eyes shut tight as you push your fingers deeper inside her. It’s not like you, you repeat for the last time in your head, airing out the loose thought somewhere to dry when you notice the dull burn of something like adrenaline, the throbbing pulse in your tongue, your throat, the tips of your fingers—both those holding Sana tight at her waist, and the ones that keep coaxing these little whimpering hums out of her chest every time you curl them inside her. Your voice is coarse, and your tongue sticks to the rough of your mouth when you mutter her name; a betrayal apparently—those half-lidded eyes catch yours, and her lips slant like they know it just as well as you: you had plenty more mistakes to make.

"It’s kinda fucked up, you know that?" Sana sputters as though you need the reminder. "Like we went weeks, and what, your biggest fear that I’d end up somewhere like this? getting fucked?"

"I mean, if you’d rather I’d leave," you suggest, pushing her hard enough into the stall that the whole assembly shakes and rattles, "maybe you could help me remember all that a little more—"

"Don’t." It comes out more severe than you’d expect from this girl creaming the lining of her underwear at your fingers gliding between her aching lips. You catch the look in her eye and it’s so badly betrayed by the shortness in her breath, the blush searing against her cheeks—you do the math; find it all adds up to need and lust and whatever else could’ve dragged you both into this stall.

"Yeah?" you ask, reveling once in these few opportunities you get to be the one looking smug and smirking at her. "And why not?"

Sana releases her fingers from around your cock, her hand sliding up from inside your pants and snapping at the front of your shirt. "Because you owe me."

Before you can say anything, she pulls you into her, lips hard against yours. It hadn’t been long since she’d kissed you in your office—those few hours now feeling like ages ago. And even though you noticed it, beyond the way she licks your lips, bites them, pulls you into her and sends these tiny quiet moans into your mouth, you couldn’t quite put it into words then.

See, you’ve kissed your fair share of girls who’d done nothing less than a good job, but never before had they given it their whole attention, their whole being. There was always something on their mind, some idle thought or distraction: what time the last train left the platform, what day of their cycle it was, doubting their own technique, too much tongue, not enough tongue, if it’s too forward to grab that hand on their breast by the wrist and shove it between their thighs—Sana is none of that. Even while the fingers you shove up her cunt are drawing out all these gasps and hiccups, and ignoring the fact that between her legs is precisely where she needs you, she’s on you with this intensity that never once seems to let you out of its focus.

But no, to be clear, she’s not perfect—the wide pad of your thumb on her clit more than reminds you both of that. Her lips smack as she pulls herself off you, those cute brows knit like she’s about to sneeze.

"Oh, fuck!" She throws her head back and it sends all this silky hair flying.

With a fistful of her dress, her ass, you pull her against you. Her cheeks are so red and her pussy so unbelievably wet that you’re blinking in awe, in admiration—Sana’s features twisting into this masterpiece, this look of pure delight. Her voice gets strangled into something more hoarse, something debauched, and she’s punching out these tiny nods as you fuck her with your fingers, circling your thumb around her clit.

"That feels so fucking good. I—please sir," says Sana, and she’s leaning in like she knows you. Maybe she really does. "Make me fucking cum on your fingers, please, sir. I need it."

You hear it; something short of understanding it. Tuck it away like it’s a clerical error or some trifling hiccup—fuck if that’s the Sana you know—but the way she’s got it repeating in your ear makes it click. It’s familiar, and fucked up, that musing again, except now it’s all turned on its head, about authority, about subordination: she needs your hand stern like she needs your cock hard—she gets off on it, you figure. It’s ridiculous and it’s so out of line and it’s so like nothing you’ve ever done and you can’t believe it’s in this restroom of all places and it’s so fucking hot and you’re living on borrowed time, leaning into it—

"Go ahead, beg for it Sana"—like, really leaning into it—"I need to hear you say it."

"I can’t - fucking believe - just don’t stop, okay? Please sir, right there - right there - right there…" Sana is whimpering and mewling through it all as you match and mirror that grind she makes against your fingers. Frustrated, fucked, she’s giving up on your pants, which to her credit, there was a bit more complication to a button and a zipper than simply hiking up her dress around her hips, but still, it’s fascinating to watch her come apart. Her arms fall limp and she’s finding a place to rest them over your shoulders, mumbling, murmuring, repeating, "Please sir, I’m so close…"

"Sana." You’ve got your lips against her ear and it all but kills her; she whimpers and whines as she sinks her weight onto you, the heat of her own name on your breath, the way you say it, pushing her so far onto that edge.

"Put it in - please, please, please, I need it," Sana’s bleating only compounds when you pull your fingers from her cunt, looking at you like you’ve committed something heinous—which isn’t entirely off. Her voice squeals and trails again when you drag your palm across her clit, up across her stomach, "I’ll do anything, just give me your cock, and I’ll do anything, anything, please sir, I promise - I promise."

Sana can’t even keep her own voice down, those needy moans splashing over all that tile around you and probably leaking out the door and into the hall. She’s in no position to bargain or plea, but as you pull her together enough in your hands, wrap the swell of her thigh around you and press your body against hers, she’s not the only one making promises she doesn’t intend to keep. "Don’t worry Sana. I’ll take good care of you." Your voice is drier than expected, but it’s more than up to the task. "I’ll put this cock in you - and I’ll be nice and gentle; I’ll let you cum, now just be good for me, and I promise I’ll fuck you right."

The sound of your zipper makes this echo—loud, uncompromising, unholy as if it were somehow the most debauched thing pouring out from where you and Sana had committed to turning the restroom into this whole menagerie of lustful noises. You pull her soaked panties to the side and her voice floods with desperation. "Please—"

Sana whines, shuddering when the tip of your cock parts the swelling lips around her wet, needy entrance. Search for it, find it, and you’re groaning too—there’s no more hesitation the moment you slip your cock inside her.

"I can’t - you’re so fucking - fuck!" Sana swallows down these flailing gasps of air like she’d been held underwater, struggling spectacularly to bite back this broken moan. The lithe frame in your arms is teetering on the single heel still on the ground, relying on you, your chest, and your hips to keep her pinned to the stall. You’re holding her fragile world together; draw your hips back; drive into her again; you’ll tear it all apart.

Your teeth are gritting and your jaw clenched because she is so unbelievably tight, even all creamed and wet for you—but still, your focus is honed on her voice, keen to her movements, tuned to the way she writhes in your arms. Beyond the small tears filling out in her deep brown eyes, the lines of her face wincing and quivering, her eyelashes fluttering as your hips slam up into hers again, you’re acutely aware of the machinery in her head, of something deep inside her thoughts hitching, changing tracks, going with it; because this wasn’t what she’d expected: this was so much more than she’d expected.

"That’s it," you say, jamming it into that moist breath you push out of your chest, "just feel how you’re stretching around me, Sana, you fucking need this. I promise - you’re going to cum on this cock - and I promise - you’ll do it again."

"F-fuck," Sana rasps through it, her new favorite word. Your fingers dig into her ass and she’s biting down hard on its harsh final consonants, hiccuping, stuttering in the spaces your hips force between her mewls and cries. She swallows down at her indecency, scrambling for composure. "It’s so - I need you please - please, I need you to fuck me! - just use me."

And so there you are, raising the stakes. Each thrust into the smoldering heat deep in her pussy finds you harsher, stronger, the pauses between your thrusts approaching nothing; far more than Sana can hope to recover. You gasp, shocked at how she manages to fit you, her tightness working against you just shy of allowing you to ruin her. "Sana," you start, and her own name becomes music to her ears, how it sounds deep and gravelly on your panting breath, "fuck yes, Sana, that’s a good girl - your pussy feels incredible."

It’s your voice, it’s the small affirmations, it’s the way your cock swells and stiffens when she swings her leg open, the angle, the depth, the pressure making her incoherent and cry out like the fucked mess she is—for weeks now she’d been your foil, the thorn pricking sharp into your side, and here you are, driving your cock deep into her aching cunt, nothing less than her salvation.

"I can’t," she whispers, face falling into your shoulder and her teeth biting into your neck, leaving marks like you both don’t have to be at the office tomorrow. "I can’t keep - you feel so good, you’re going to make me cum - you’re gonna make me fucking cum."

She’s slipping, falling apart in your arms, breaking at the seams. The delicate application of mascara around her eyes is ever-so-slightly starting to run, and you feel her leg begin to wobble and buckle under her weight as it sits helplessly on the sharp point of that single heel. You struggle to scoop her up, finding the soft curves of her thighs over your forearms.

"Do it Sana," you sputter from between gritted teeth, and your hips crash again into Sana’s body, held pitifully between you and the stall’s indifferent wooden frame. "Cum all over this cock - cum for me."

Sana’s so close to the edge, so wet, so needy, that even craning her neck and seizing your lips is some exaggerated and laborious effort. But it’s the only way she can channel all that raw pleasure, that emotion searing its way from her cunt and shooting up the length of her spine, so she gets there, even if you have to meet her halfway. Her voice hums and cracks inside yours, and you can count the last thoughts of her waning composure in her tongue, in those tears gently wetting your cheeks, at the heart beating wild in her chest, all in those legs wrapping desperately behind you, pulling you deeper into her, yearning to find how much of that lust dripping between her legs you can fill.

"I’m cumming, I’m so close to cumming," she moans into your mouth, and there’s no question that she is—the quivers her cunt makes around your cock every time you bury yourself inside her heat—the way she clenches onto the emptiness that torments her when you drag your hips away from her again.

A final inhibition, that what if, the final shred of concern that someone could walk into this impromptu love nest and undo her career—entirely obliterate yours—in so little as the flash of a camera—it vanishes, like a candle snuffed out, first in her head, and then in yours. You smash your hips into the backs of her reddening thighs again, thrusting deep between them and you’re left only thinking of Sana, of her husked voice in your ears, of her ass spilling out between your fingers, of the torrid heat of her cunt—how she invites you, pulls you in, how she begs to be ruined.

"Oh my god." You can hear the wet breath that she draws fast into her chest scrape against her upper teeth. "Oh. God."

When Sana cums, she holds nothing back. And she cums hard—muscles tense, her chest holds onto one final breath, and she digs her fingernails into the backs of your shoulders without even a shred of consideration for the poor skin beneath them. Those short staccato breaths that filled your mouth become long, gasping wails that sit just aside your ear as Sana holds tight around your body, hips shaking and bucking between you and the wood behind her.

"Fucking hell, Sana." And your head is cocked, gaze pointing into the ceiling. "You’re so wet and tight - you’re cumming like you’ve never been touched once - I can’t fucking believe it."

"Y-you-you-you," she stutters, and you’re listening to the bolts and screws holding the stall door together start to grumble and complain. They’re not built for this kind of treatment, not meant to be pounded and punished beyond their breakpoints. Sana on the other hand—she falters, threads coming loose and cracking and falling apart—it only makes her more subdued, more fuckable, more perfect.

"I’m—" You toss your hands beneath her, readjusting your grip, and your lips are resting on her ear. "I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to fucking use you."

She’s nodding into your shoulder, and it’s got her babbling and whimpering like she needs it even more than you. "Do it," she whispers, the first coherent thing out her mouth that wasn’t god, fuck or you in quite some time. "Do it, fill me up, please sir, cum inside my pussy—"

Knees locking and muscles burning, your fingers squeeze into her soft ass. They pull her to you, burying your cock deep into Sana’s cunt. "Fuck - Sana."

In that warmth, in the slopped mess of that fucked, used hole, you cum.

Sana coos when she feels that first rope of cum fill and pool inside her. She’s got her mouth gaping at the second and the third, and she keeps pleading like at this point you’ve got any choice in the matter, "Please sir - fuck all that cum into me - I need it - please."

Your eyes are shut tight, and your orgasm has you counting the stars in your eyelids, all of that tinnitus of blood rushing between your ears. Call it impropriety, unprofessional—you’re not arguing with any of that; it’s beyond logic; you’re just like the girl in your arms: ruined, fucked.

There’s all this mess between your hips, stains at the hem of Sana’s dress, and you’re still thrusting, slowed and deliberate now, and you’re reeling as you unload everything inside Sana. Your lips part, though nothing really comes out, just a long groan, and soon you’re laughing, returning back into reality—which at this point, it’s just the restroom, and it smells so badly of sex, beyond the harsh odor of cleaning agents. It’s bad, it’s that obvious.

One final shared groan—your voices trembling in unison on two wildly different sounds—fills the restroom when your cock slips out from between Sana’s wet, swollen lips.

"Jesus." Sana slides from your grip, lands on her feet, and barely finds her balance on her heels, knees bowed and wobbling as she straightens herself out. She wipes a few stray tears from her eyes and pulls her dress back down her thighs to somewhere slightly more modest, always a familiar challenge. "That was something."

You sink backward into the stall’s firm embrace, clearing your voice a few times. "Yeah," you start, and you realize you need more time to pant and huff your way back to anything presentable. "Okay. Five minutes. Walk out of here no sooner than five minutes after me."

"What?" Sana asks, and she crosses her legs, leaning back and sliding down the stall wall a few inches. "Are you that afraid someone’s gonna find out you just had your dick in me?"

"I mean, sure, it’s one fear." It’s all the dominos you have lined up after that, how they might fall. "Believe me, the last thing I need is Nayeon and Dahyun getting suspicious and—"

"They can kick rocks," says Sana, raking her fingers through her hair until it sits on her shoulders more or less how it was before you’d gotten your hands in it, all tossed and ruffled. "Besides they’d just be jealous they’ve never been fucked like that in their short, sorry lives."

You lean forward, smirking. "Oh? Fucked like what?"

"Don’t flatter yourself." She says it like it insults her, but the breathy laugh she holds back gives her away. "You’re the one who’s always saying, it’s unbecoming to gloat."

"Well, it isn’t my job to be becoming now is it?"

"Hey," she says, uninterested in the banter, taking a step through all the back and forth, and she leans into you, close enough to where you can see all those small, dangerous details again.

A few of the hints now inches in front of you become pretty recognizable: those few strands of hair stuck to the sweat on her brow, the smudges of mascara around her eyes, the way her knees buckle just a little when she shifts her weight—if anything, the rosy flush in her cheeks could be explained away with whatever she was sipping on minutes ago. But the mess leaking down her thighs? That was going need to some extra attention, and maybe a few tissues.

"This is the ladies’ room." Her head tilts, and you watch her hair fall on her cheek again. "You should totally, like, get out of here."

"Yeah. That’s what I was saying."

"Seriously." Her eyes light up and her teeth worry the corner of her lip. "I might just start touching you again if you don’t."

You figure all that guilt and anxiety was going to be there waiting for you in the morning. So for now, there’s this strange calm you find in the sound of tires hitting wet pavement and the smell of fresh rain on the wind. Though the evening crowd had started to thin, a few people are still out—couples mostly, holding hands, sharing umbrellas to satisfy some romantic hankering or another; you’re pretty sure it had stopped raining a while ago.

"You called two cars?" Sana asks, finger on her chin, "What’s the fun in that?"

"None, probably."

"Well that’s…" her voice trails off and her eyes narrow alongside this mild grin, "How are you supposed to walk me to my front door, you know, stand there with your hands behind your back, wait for a kiss, and then hang around missing all these queues that you should leave—until I finally decide to let you up for coffee even though it’s late and it’s a little too soon to be letting you stay the night and we’ve got work in the morning and—

"I’m sure you’ll manage." You snuff out the thought before it can brew any further in your mind—the power of restraint coming to you now apparently. Timely.

"Well it’s not like you live that far from me," says Sana, running her thumb over her lips and looking at how that fresh application of lipstick bleeds onto it. To her credit, she’d spent some time touching up after you pulled yourself off her tight, well-fucked body and before you watched her appear on the sidewalk outside the bar. Her lips pull back into a smile, and she clicks her tongue against her teeth. "It’s, like, eco-friendly or something."

"Uh-huh."

"It’s good for the Earth. You gotta be pro-Earth. I mean, everyone’s pro-Earth."

A train arrives in the station, metal brakes screeching on the tracks, and you ball up both hands into the pockets of your jacket. "Since when do you know where I live?"

"Well, to be honest," she starts like she’s about to set some record straight and wipes a strand of loose hair out of her face, "I don’t. But Dahyun walked home from your place one time. And I doubt you’d ever make her walk far. Let’s not mince words here—you really spoiled her."

"For starters, I never had to delete homemade porn off her phone." Your eyes are pointed to the sky while you try to remember if that checks out. And it does. "If I was lenient,"—which you were—"I dunno, maybe she earned it."

"Huh." Her eyes glisten, staring straight into yours. "I had no idea guys you guys were sleeping together—"

"Sana," you say, catching her eyes again. "We weren’t." It’s not a lie or anything, but the words are choking you on the way up like it were. "We aren’t." You clear your throat again. "We haven’t."

"Man—you really need to relax." Sana lets herself enjoy this quiet laugh that you barely hear over the sound of passengers arriving and boarding."Like I dunno, hear me out: maybe we both get in the first car that shows up, and we take it to your place, and you throw me on the bed, maybe over the back of the sofa, I don’t care; wherever you think—"

"I’m going home in one car," you say, turning a cigarette lighter over in your hand. "And you in the other."

"We could have at least made out in the back of the cab."

With this disappointed look on her face, Sana folds her arms and finds a spot against the station’s bricks to lean into, a knee pushed forward and one foot against the wall. Her skirt rises and ruffles just enough for you to get yet another glimpse of the gentle curves of her thighs—not that you’re trying to look.

She lets her cheek fall into her shoulder, eyes pointed at you, and gets on with this judgmental tone. "You smoke?"

"Rarely." You’ve got your hand cupping the end of the flame as it flickers in the breeze, protecting those embers until they finally catch and glow red. You hide the lighter in your pocket, and your posture straightens out an extra inch or two when you add, "only if I have a good reason."

"Oh? Then tell me; what’s the occasion?" she asks, and she smiles at you like she knows you’re pretending not to notice how pretty she is. "Are we celebrating? That’s kinda cute—"

"Stressed. Anxious." You inhale deeply. Let this sharp plume of smoke out. Then you bend your neck side to side a few times. "That kind of thing."

Sana takes a hint. She places her hands behind her back, leaning and looking into the sky, where rain clouds had rolled and tumbled out to let you peer into this vastly black sky—no stars, no moon, just an unending dark blanket of night. Neither of you say much; it’s pillow talk without all the chatter perhaps, and it’s comforting in a sense, a warm silence that you can wrap yourself up in. When you turn your head toward Sana, she surprises you for the hundredth time, the expression on her face so innocent and soft—it’s hard not to let her fool you.

"This one’s all yours," you say, and you nod toward the cab pulling up on the curb, tapping ash from your cigarette onto the ground.

Sana’s got her hand on the door and one knee in the backseat of the taxi when her eyes find yours one last time. "You sure? Last chance."

"I’ll see you tomorrow," you say, watching Sana shake her head and let out this muted laugh. "Oh and Sana, let’s—how about we try and keep our jobs. Okay?"

She smiles. Even if just a little, you’re smiling too. "You got it sir."

#sana smut #twice smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #twice sana smut #sana minatozaki #twice sana #sana minatozaki smut

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hotaru-no-yume · 1 year

Text

loyalty to the raging tempest

CW: This contains spoilers from the new archon quest. Read at your own discretion.

"You can start a new life here if you want to."

The God of Wisdom's words echo in your mind as you watch your Lord's unmoving figure on the hospital bed. You saw his fall, from the proud and cruel harbinger to a lifeless puppet who had its heart taken away. With Scaramouche's defeat and the Fatui branding you a traitor for refusing to return with the Doctor, you had nowhere else to go… until the Dendro Archon offered you sanctuary in her region.

"Gravedigger… You will regret this." The Doctor spits with the promise of your death.

"I'm sure the matra would be willing to take you in. Creating a final resting place for the dead is also necessary." In contrast, the Dendro Archon's kindness promised protection.

She was right. Under her watchful gaze, no one will be able to lay a hand on you in Sumeru. You can leave everything behind; even the pitiful puppet in front of you. Truthfully, Scaramouche was an awful person. No one in the Fatui liked him and your colleagues would often give you pitying looks once you got summoned to his side. You've lost count of how many times you were punished for not following his orders perfectly.

But still, for some reason, you can't leave him alone. Perhaps it's because of the way he looked at you when you first met. The look of recognition, fury, and something else. You remember him looming over you, staring at your dirt-covered body - the result of digging tirelessly in the cold mornings of Snezhnaya, all in an effort to create a tomb for a soldier you hardly know. Once you lock eyes, you see a raging tempest and you wonder what he's seeing when he looks at you.

"Pitiful. What's with that look in your eyes? Are you merely a doll who knows nothing more than to roll around in the dirt? Perhaps I should call you a rat."

You nod, but that seemed to make him angrier. As insulting as his words are, you really don't know anything else. In a distant memory, you see the blurry faces of your mother and father, hear their whispers of your duties and how it is important to create a final resting place, you remember the old shovel they handed you before you dug your first grave and the sight of their backs as they left for a mission and never returned.

You feel his attack before you see it. Your vision glows and you parry the blade of electro he sends towards you. You get thrown back, and you feel the air get knocked out of your lungs as you slam into a tree.

"...Good. It seems you're not entirely hopeless."

You stand up on shaky legs, tensing as he steps closer and closer. He scoffs as you raise your weapon defensively. He probably thought fighting you was mere child's play.

"Work under me. I'm sure I can find some use for a little rat like you."

And he did find some use for you. Before you knew it, you became his right hand… or maybe "errand runner" was a better description for your job. "The Balladeer's Servant", others would whisper behind your back as they see you tailing the Harbinger's figure. You were at his beck and call and usually the one that bears the brunt of his anger (or as you like to call it in your head - his temper tantrums.) It was exhausting work; trying to keep up with his demands.

But sometimes, you would see the eye of the storm. He was calm in those times, his voice losing the sharp edge it always seemed to have - like a storm temporarily diminishing into a gentle, soothing rain.

"What are you looking at? …The cherry trees?"

He hums, tipping his hat up as he stares at the lush pink trees, not minding the rain of petals falling on him due to the strong gust of wind. You think that he looks very beautiful.

"I don't need anything. Just stay there and don't make a sound."

You watch him collapse in pain after enduring the Doctor's experiments. Regardless of his protests, you help him get settled on his bed. You silently question why he doesn't see himself as a human. After all, he feels pain and suffering, just like everyone else.

Your current situation reminded you of those quiet nights with only the candle light to keep you company. But instead of seeing your Lord's eyes open the next day, he's been asleep for more than two months. Just as you think he's never going to wake up, he stirs from his slumber one morning, jolting you awake.

"...My Lord?" You call, making his pretty eyes focus on you.

"You're still here?" He mutters in disbelief, like he expected you to be gone from his side.

"Why wouldn't I be? I pledged loyalty to you, didn't I?"

Your honest words stun him into silence. He narrows his eyes, looking for a lie, a hint of deception and desire for personal gain.

He finds none. Just an honest fool that he picked up from the dirt littered with flowers and concrete.

"Idiot."

"̵͉̐̈́S̷͍̜̓c̶̱͎̈ặ̸̪̕r̴͚͎̉̍ă̵̤m̴̻̃̀ö̴̤̣́̈́u̷͍̙̽c̷͓̘͠h̷͈̟̉̀ė̸̗"̷͚͍͒̚ ̶̲̈ǎ̸̲͋ń̶͖̥̐d̷͉̒ ̴̤͍͗̀"̸̬̳̈K̴̤̤͝ả̵̰̈͜b̶̦̱͝u̶͖͚͋ķ̷͆̀ì̵̦̙̓m̸͓̥̑ô̸̠̥͝ṉ̴̦̀͆o̶͖̘͑́"̵̟͂ ̸͖̆̀ͅw̷͕͆̊ǐ̶̺̮l̷̦͋̅l̴͔̹̈́ ̴̫͗̾ç̵̖͋́ẽ̶̯̺ả̸͎̒ş̴̪͒e̶̳̼̍ ̵͍̱̿t̸̬̍̀ọ̸̩̒̍ ̶̻̯̿̚e̷̤̎̚x̵̼͗ì̷͉͈s̴̯̈̈t̸̡̻́.̸̬̏

"Do you… do you remember him?"

A floating fairy that carried the scent of stars asked you as she gestured to the man in blue. Four pairs of eyes stare at you in anticipation as you gaze at the man with a frown. He crosses his arms as he waits for your answer. You weren't expecting this strange turn of events at all. Your life was finally becoming peaceful under the kindness of the Dendro Archon. She gave you a home and a place to work. You needed nothing more. And yet, you feel like things are about to go upside down again with the presence of this strange man.

"I'm sorry. I don't know him." You said. Their gazes turn uneasy and the man in blue's neutral expression breaks for a moment.

"...But I feel like I should." You added, stepping forward to get a closer look. Not expecting the close proximity, he flinches and moves back, as if electrocuted.

"How dare-!"

"What's your name?" You ask, not paying attention to the spark of anger and embarrassment that appeared in his eyes.

"...Give me one." He says with a sigh.

"Pardon?" Did this familiar stranger really ask you to name him?

"How fascinating…" The Dendro Archon mumbles, placing a hand on her chin as she regards you with curious eyes. "Their memories were definitely erased… but somehow, the connection you formed with them was so strong that it resisted the data deletion process. There is a saying that the heart and mind are two separate things. In this case, the mind may have forgotten, but the feeling is still there. It seems you've garnered someone's loyalty regardless of your lack of divinity."

"...I suppose that's enough." The man in blue looks away, tipping his hat over his eyes.

"Well? Have you thought of a name yet?" He addresses you and you find yourself at the center of attention once again. They were actually serious about naming him…

"How about…"

The man in blue closes his eyes. You think you see the corner of his lips twitch upwards into a small smile.

#scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #wanderer x reader #gn reader #spoilers for the archon quest #writings #genshin impact x reader #i think this was the first time i wrote something for genshin #my first genshin fic and its not even my love venti or husbando ayato #its for this little gremlin #who im starting to like

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harleehazbinfics · 2 months

Text

Home is where my heart is.

Chapter 6: Surprise! Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 1188 A/N: ehehehehe yeah of i had to put this in, he's our good lil duck boy. also also, if you want to be tagged for future updates you can dm me or reply under this 👉👈

I ran my fingers through the desk and lifted my eyes to the walls covered in décor and pictures. Lightly humming as I walked further into the room and stood next to the slumping figure fixated in his creation.

“Seems like you’ve been up all night again, your majesty. Something bothering you?” I asked raising my eyebrow as I continued to watch him tinker away.

“Well, the extermination this year finally ended and now, they wanted to have a meeting with me. How fun,” he replied sarcastically rolling his eyes all the while and making gestures.

I laughed, crossed my arms, and replied, “I suppose anyone wouldn’t be enthusiastic to meet the ex-partner of their spouse. Have you talked to Charlie about it? Seems like she needs that extra push, besides, that would mean that you wouldn’t have to see Adam’s face.”

Lucifer’s face immediately lights up at my advice but not a second later he frets, “But, how do I say it? What if I say the wrong thing and she hates me forever?!”

He shoots up from his seat from worry that I had to take his shoulders and ease him back down on the chair and patting them, “You worry too much~. Charlie loves her dad too much to do that anyway. Just say what you want to say and then wrap it up nicely.”

He nods taking a deep breath. He paces around the room thinking what to say first and took his phone out of his pocket. He hovered his hand on her number he dials it up and bites his nails as he tried to soothe himself. While I just silently stood still and waited for him to end his call.

“HI CHARLIEEE~”

I couldn’t help but cringe when he couldn’t control his tone but kept an encouraging smile on my face as he continued to talk to her.

“Listen, there’s going to be a meeting with the angels, and I wanted you to attend for me! I can’t go right now since I have… veryyy important things to do today.”

He looks over at me for approval while I gave him two thumbs up in satisfaction from his performance.

“No problem. Stay safe! Love you!”

He lets out a sigh of relief changing into his snake form making me giggle at his silliness. I plucked him off the ground and placed him on his desk.

“Well, that has to be one of your best performances yet,” I complimented him with a round of applause.

“Thank you, Miledy. I know things would’ve ended up badly if you weren’t here,” he sighs changing back to his normal form.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I mean you did all the talking, so give yourself a pat on the back for a good job, your highness,” I smiled dusting off his top hat and putting it on him.

He smiles sadly and says, “I thought I told you to call me Lucifer, Mel.”

I didn’t falter at his words and just squeezed his shoulder, “You know we can’t. Alastor just came back after 7 years, and I’d rather not have him dig his heels on the King of Hell who happens to be a good friend of mine. You know how crazy he gets,” I joked shrugging my shoulders.

He sighs and slumps his shoulders disappointed in himself, “You’re right. I’m sorry that ever crossed my mind.”

I bumped shoulders with him and just replied, “Hey, you took it better than those other idiots who got their heads so far up their asses that no means consent.”

“Hey, just call me when you need something, okay?” he said smiling at me.

“Sure. See you around, your highness,” I waved before diving through the floor and leisurely made my way to the hotel.

Poking my head out the ground and saw everyone all gathered by the TV, “Uhhhh.”

“Just in time! Come on!” Vaggie reaches for me and takes me out from the ground throwing me in Alastor’s arms, him placing me on his lap.

“Al? What’s happening?” I asked still in his arms and walks us into a room, probably doesn’t have any plans to put me down any time soon.

“I made a little deal with the princess’ little girlfriend. Now, we have to record a new commercial for her,” he answered walking us towards a vanity, placing me on the seat.

“Oh, they didn’t like what you made for them?” I teased laughing lightly.

“You know I’d rather eat a can of worms than be involved with that,” he says as he rolls his eyes, then squeezing my shoulders. “Now, then time to get you dressed up!”

He twirls his finger above my head and changes my outfit. I looked at the mirror and immediately noticed the dress I was wearing. It was the same loose blue dress that I wore at the bar when we first met.

“Aw, dear. I haven’t worn this dress in ages!” I exclaimed holding my necklace feeling sentimental.

He smiles at me, pleased with himself and responds merrily, “You look ravishing as always, sweetheart!”

He offers his hand for me to take and onto my feet. He dips his head and kiss the back of my hand, while I blush at his actions that he takes in as he takes a peek at my reactions. He gives me a laugh then places both of his hands on my cheeks to hold and cradle me in them while nuzzling his face to mine, making me feel warm and fuzzy inside from his wholesome display of affection.

“As much as I want to cuddle with you, darling. I think we should go help them film now,” I suggested softly with a giggle.

He rolls his eyes with a smile and begrudgingly parts from me, of course not before giving me a kiss.

The door bursts open and there Angel yells, “Let’s go sickos. Let’s get this show on the road.”

~Later~

While we waited for Charlie, Al and I sat on the sofa like we used to when we were expecting Abby and just talked to each other not minding the looks both Husk and Angel gave us.

“Before we recorded the advertisement,” he answers glancing down at me, “where have you been?”

“Just visited a friend. I get worried for him after exterminations happen,” I explained which was all true.

He hums and sees Charlie come in as well, “Well, I hope you had a fun time.”

“—Alastor pulled some strings and it’s about to air,” Vaggie spoke leading her girlfriend to the couch.

“And I pulled a few limbs too!” he ‘laughed’ while Charlie and I exchanged waves.

“Wait, the commercial? You guys made a new one?” she asks.

“Yeah! One of my better performances if I do say so myself,” Angel proudly states.

“That’s amazing,” Charlie starts before getting cut off by Angel.

“SHH! It’s starting!”

But before the ad could play it gets interrupted by a news flash causing a choir of complaints.

“Breaking news in hell today! We just received word from the heaven embassy that next extermination is happening sooner than ever before. That means where’s all royally fucked!”

The TV cuts to the countdown changing to 176 days.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin fanfic #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Vaya Con Dio

Dio Morrissey x f!reader

Dio thinks he's got her all figured out, but she's got a few tricks up her cashmere sleeve.

wordcount: 3K

story playlist (which I highly recommend listening to while reading)

warnings | 18+ *smacks fic like a car salesman* this bad boy can fit so much depravity in it. SMUT, kinda angst? pegging, duh

a/n | Dio Morrissey - if you don't know him, get to know him, law and order, babes, he's my new favorite freak ;)

.......................................

It’s too easy, really. He has it down to a science. The library on fifth is the best for this, being so close to the NYU campus. Smart girls, but not too smart, not smart enough to get into Columbia. And good girls, studying in the stacks on a Wednesday afternoon, pulling their little cashmere cardigans bought by daddy closer around their shoulders. Dio gets to kill two birds with one stone this way, brushing up on his important literature (he’s really into Scientology these days) and finding a pretty little thing to take home for his dinner.

Today is no different. He’s got his eyes set on a baby pink sweater set, and a cute little headband that matches, plush lips wrapped around the eraser of a pencil, brow furrowed in concentration over whatever she’s working on. Showtime.

He sits down in the seat next to hers, nothing more than a glance his way before she focuses back on her textbook. It’s a script by now, certified. He watches the clock, aimlessly flipping through a book, waiting the requisite five minutes before sitting back with a huff, slamming his book shut with a dull thud. That gets her attention, winged-eyeliner focused on him now.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s just– your aura– it's mesmerizing to me.” A little quirk of a lip-glossed smile is all he needs to know that he’s got her, leaning closer on his elbows to hear her response.

“Does that line work on other girls?” Kitty’s got claws. He can work with that.

“What? You don’t think I mean it? How you wound me, pretty girl. You see, I have a good feel for these things. I’m drawn to beauty, to pureness. I just couldn’t help myself when I saw you, I had to come talk to you.” Her eyes narrow at him as she lets out a breathy giggle, shaking her head lightly at his words. Got her. He slings his arm over the back of her chair, leaning in real close, letting his lips crook up like he’s got the most delicious secret to tell her.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go somewhere a little more, mm, cozy, so we can really talk? I’d like to get to know you better.” Her perfect french manicure twists around her pencil as she bites down on her lip, and he doesn’t even need to hear her speak to know what her answer is.

…

“This is me, home sweet home, or something like that.” He grins, all teeth, as she ducks under his arm and into his shitty little apartment. He doesn’t have much, just a futon and a pile of clothes, some books, a stove that works half the time. But he doesn’t care about possessions like all the sheep. Besides, chicks dig it, it adds to the whole effect.

Her heels click on the peeling linoleum floor, spinning in a slow circle as she takes in the space before her wide eyes finally settle back on him.

“Come get comfortable, baby. Let’s talk.” He coaxes her over to his futon, sitting down next her, his thigh pressing up against hers as he slings his arm over the back of the makeshift couch. Her eyes are focused on something behind him, and when he jerks his chin over his shoulder and sees that she’s looking at his bong propped next to the futon, he grins.

“You want a hit, pretty girl? I’m happy to share.” He’s already reaching for it along with his lighter as she answers him.

“Oh, um, sure. Actually I was looking at what’s laying next to that, but I’ll take a hit.” When he realizes what she’s referring to, the dark purple strap-on that’s haphazardly laying on the ground, he can’t help but chuckle.

“You ever seen one of those before, baby?” He revels in her wide eyes as he turns back to her, fiddling with his lighter to fix up the bong for them.

“Do you use it a lot?”

“I enjoy partaking, yeah. Why? You looking to try it out?” Not really expecting an answer from her, he takes the first hit from the bong, his eyes not leaving hers as he lets a slow slip of smoke out of his mouth.

“Here, pretty girl, let me show you how to–” before he can even finish, she’s taking the bong and lighter out of his hands, hitting it with the deft precision of someone who has done this many times before. She blows the smoke out with a smirk, the haze directed right at his face. He hates to admit it, but it throws him off his game, just a little, though he’s quick to compose himself with a smirk of his own.

“Well, well, aren’t you just full of surprises? You do a lot of this in coll–” She’s surprising him again, setting the bong on the floor before straddling his thighs, her little mini-skirt bunching up at her hips. Her hand cups his cheek, a soft touch that he can’t help but lean into, his own hands resting on her thighs. But as she slips her fingers back into his hair, her light touch turns hard all at once, nails grazing his scalp as she tugs his head back, pressing a kiss to his bobbing throat.

“You know, baby, I’m not really interested in doing any more talking.” This is a first for him, and it’s not that he minds exactly, but he did have a whole routine ready for her, and she just stepped all over it with her pretty pink kitten heels. But he doesn’t have much time to get pissy about it, not when she’s tugging him by his hair into a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and sticky-sweet lip gloss.

…

It’s too easy, really. She has it down to a science. Boys like this, who think they have the whole world figured out and wrapped around their black nail-polished fingers, are her favorite. She knows how unassuming she looks, and she knows what they think of her. Innocence lost, an easy target, something sugary sweet to sink their teeth into. She revels in proving them wrong.

“Dio– that’s not your real name, is it, baby? Why don’t you be a good boy and tell me your real name?” She tugs him back by the hair at the nape of his neck, his eyes wide and dark as he looks at her, mouth agape and spit-slick, remnants of her lip gloss smeared glittery on his lips. His Adam's apple bobs, fingers flexing where his hands are curled on her hips. She’s got him surprised, guard down, mind swimming in her shocking sour-sweetness. She’s got him right where she wants him.

“It’s– it’s Shane. My name is Shane.” Not so tough now, are you? She grins, leaning in and letting her lips just graze over his, tongue flickering out over his top lip.

“Shane, you wanna have some fun together?”

“Mmhmm, yeah, I– yes.” She has to giggle at his frantic answer, the jerky nod of his head, and she pulls him in for another hard kiss, licking into his mouth as she grinds her hips down on his already prominent bulge. She pulls away just as fast though, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth before letting it snap back in place, getting up off his lap to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips.

“Why don’t you take your clothes off for me, pretty boy?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice, shrugging out of his leather duster jacket, standing up in just his black wife beater and chains, making quick work of his belt, toeing off his boots and shucking off his pants, all the while keeping his eyes glued to her, lips parted and dazed.

“You can leave the hardware on, baby, silver suits you.” He gets what she means, nodding and tugging his tank top over his head but leaving his chains, a nervous little smile quirking his mouth as she steps forward and shoves him back down onto the futon.

When she straddles his hips again, there’s a whole lot less fabric separating her throbbing core and his obvious hardness, grinding the damp cotton of her panties down over the bulge in his boxers. He lets out a low groan when she swirls her hips, the sound getting stuck in his throat when she licks a hot stripe up the strong slope of his neck.

“Fuck, you’re– you’re unreal.”

“Oh, Shaney, I assure you I’m very real.” They’re so predictable, you’d think she’d be bored of this particular flavor by now. But she can’t help herself, there’s just something too good, too delicious, about putting a guy like this in his place. She pulls him into another kiss, yanking him in by his chains as she coaxes him to lay out on the futon. When his hands start to tug at her sweater, however, she’s quick to pull away.

“Ah-ah, what do you want, baby? Use your words for me.” He’s breathless, hazy, looking up at her through pretty lashes and a furrowed brow.

“I– can you take that off?”

“I mean, I can–” he doesn’t like that one bit, practically growling in frustration as his hands squeeze at her hips.

“Would you take it off, fucking– please?” She stifles her giggle, rubbing her palms on his chest before shrugging off her cardigan and peeling off her tank top. It’s an awkward shuffle, but he’s happy to help her as she shimmies her panties down from under her skirt, holding her steady as she lifts one knee and then the other to flick them away.

“There, that’s better, huh, baby?” He’s trying to get the upper hand again, only answering her with a grunt as he guides her back down with a hand on the nape of her neck, tongue dipping and flickering into her mouth. But she doesn’t let him have control for long, pressing her hips down hard, her dripping cunt grinding over his boxer-covered length. He goes just slack enough at the sensation, sighing into her mouth, that she can start crawling up his torso, his dopey eyes flickering with recognition of what she wants.

“Oh, fuck yes.” As her thighs frame his face, she swings her legs around before he can pull her down to his mouth, her hands splaying out over his taut stomach as she now faces his legs.

“This ok for you, Shane?” The only answer she gets is a low rumbled mmhmm before he pulls her hips down, licking a flat stripe through her folds that catches her by surprise. She hadn’t exactly been expecting him to be good at it, but he is, he really fucking is. That perfectly arched nose of his is notching at her entrance as he slurps at her clit, and she can’t help the gasp she lets out when his teeth graze that spot, lurching forward until her hands are on the tops of his thighs. She noses at his cock through his boxers, pressing heated little kisses along his length before tugging the fabric down and oh, he’s pretty everywhere. Flushed pink, thick enough to set spit pooling in her mouth, a cute little curve to him that she traces with the pads of her fingers, his groans thrumming through her cunt.

When she does take him into her mouth, the moan he lets out into her core makes her dizzy, coaxing her to take more and more of him until there’s a stretching ache in her jaw. He seems just as encouraged, pulling her hips down harder, his palms kneading and groping at her ass as he alternates between licking into her and dragging his tongue over her clit. The only sounds are their equally salacious mouths, spit-slick gasps and moans that are sending her over the edge before she can even clock it, her cunt spasming around nothing as he licks her through it. While her hips jerk in his hold, trying to get away from the sensitivity, he only firms up his fingers on her ass, continuing to lap at her through the aftershocks as she can only meekly kitten lick his throbbing cock. But then her eyes focus on something laying next to the futon, something dark purple, and she nearly kicks him in the head, wriggling out of his grip and turning around to look at him.

“Wait, I wanna do something else with you, Shaney.” He’s an obscene vision looking up at her, lips swollen and glistening with her, chest heaving, pupils blown wide as he nods jerkily. She grins, reaching behind them to pick up the strap-on.

“Where do you keep your lube, baby?”

It isn’t much longer after asking that question that she stands before him, adjusting the straps of the harness around her hips as he clutches the bottle of lube in his hands, knuckles white as he watches her.

“You–you’ve done this before?” She smirks at him, stepping forward and tilting his chin up with her fingers, pouting her lips as she tilts her head at him.

“What? Is it so hard to believe that I know how to have fun too? Don’t worry, Shaney, I’m gonna take such good care of you. Now why don’t you be a good boy and get my dick ready for you.”

“Fuck, that’s hot–” He seems to be saying it absentmindedly, murmuring it to himself as he uncaps the bottle of lube, squirting some into his hand before slicking it up and down her plastic length. It’s such a power trip, standing over him as he strokes her fake dick, dark eyes looking up at her all the while.

“That’s good, baby, thank you. You wanna get on your hands and knees for me?” He moves in a flash, and she has to admit, she likes a man so responsive to orders. She kneels behind him, bringing a palm to his low back as she squirts a little more lube over his hole, giggling at the huff he lets out at the sensation. She notches the tip of her plastic dick at his hole, leaning over him so she can whisper in his ear as she presses her hips forward.

“There you go, baby. Gotta relax for me, huh? Gonna take care of you, just need you to open up for me. There it is. Feels good, yeah?” He whimpers, the poor boy, fingers gripping at the sheet covering the futon as she stills inside him, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Tell me when I can mo–” “Fuck me, please– I– you– just, fuck me.” She smiles into his shoulder blades, pressing a kiss there as she arcs her hips back, a sweet and slow drag that makes him groan.

“Aw, you like it slow, don’t you, baby?”

“Uh-huh, sl-slow is good– fuck, you’re good at this.” His breathless praise makes her laugh as she leans back to really work him, keeping her slow, circuitous pace as she reaches around to stroke his dick. As a matter of fact, she has done this before, many times, and she is good at it, savoring the grunted curses he lets out, his hips pressing back against hers with each thrust.

“You gonna come for me, Shane? Gonna give me what I want?”

“Yeah, yes– shit, just keep– keep doing that– oh my god.” She snaps her hips a little harder, a little quicker, dragging her nails down his spine before holding his waist steady to thrust into him with a little more intention than the lazy strokes she had started out with. Keeping one hand anchored on his hip, she leans forward, bringing her other palm to his throat, a suggestion of pressure, her french-tipped nails curling ever so slightly.

“Being so good for me, baby. Want you to come for me, just like this. Can you do that for me? Be a good boy and come for me.” He lets out a whine that sort of sounds like an mmhmm, and she can just catch a glimpse over his shoulder of his scrunched-shut eyes and slack jaw.

It’s not long after that he comes with a string of punched-out curses, collapsing onto his forearms as she presses her hips against his with one final stroke. He whimpers when she pulls out, his legs splaying out as he slumps down into a puddle of his own come, resting his cheek on his forearm as he catches his breath. She’s quick to get up, slipping the harness down off her legs and stepping out of it as she walks over to his “kitchen,” filling up the one chipped glass he has at the sink and bringing it back over to him.

“Did so good for me, Shane. Here, have some water, baby.” He presses up on his elbows, eyes still scrunched shut as she coaxes a few sips out of him before setting the glass down next to the futon. He slumps back down, cheek squished against his forearm, his eyes barely opening to watch her get dressed.

“Are you a succubus?” She glances over at him, smirking at his cute, pale ass on full display.

“You wish, baby.” She slips her cardigan on with a satisfied sigh, stepping into her heels and grabbing her purse as well.

“Are you– you’re just gonna leave now?” He squints up at her, still laying on his stomach, his head propped up in one hand. She hums at his question, taking a quick glance at her watch, really more for effect than anything else.

“Mmhmm, I have dinner plans. But this was fun, yeah?” His face is completely slack, lips parted in clear confusion, though she doesn’t give him much of a chance to respond, clicking her tongue and breezing over to the door.

“Wait, I don't even know your name.”

“You don’t need to. Bye, Shane, thanks for the good time.”

.......................................

taglist (come get y'alls juice): @wannab-urs @beskarandblasters @cutesyscreenname @pr0ximamidnight @swiftispunk @gab-thelamb-onthemoon @thereaperisabitch @running-writing @leeeesahhh @toxic-seduction @str84pedro @mydailyhyperfixations

#dio morrissey #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fanfiction #dio morrissey fanfiction #i'm making my own damn tags baby yeehaw #dio morrissey smut #dio morrissey angst

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specialagentlokitty · 28 days

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Rosita x Teen!reader - I’ll be here

Hi, I saw you’ve written for mental health, can I please request a walking dead story where Rosita finds a young teen who struggles with suicidal thoughts, and brings them back to camp and is like a supportive elder sister like figure to them - just keeping an eye on them? - Anon💜

TW: mentions of suicidal thoughts

Sitting on the side of the road, you were throwing stones across the road, hitting the Walker in the face each time.

It was trapped, but it was trying its hardest to get to you, and you just sat there throwing stones at it in order to try and pass some time.

You didn’t have anywhere important to be, nowhere to go, so it didn’t really make much of a difference to your daily life.

You didn’t care about anything at this point.

Standing up, you walked over to the creature and crouched not far in front of it, watching as it tried to reach out and grab you.

You slowly reached your arm out, moving it towards the walkers mouth, staring directly at it.

Before you could achieve what you wanted to, you were yanked back and thrown to the floor, and you laid there staring up at the woman who was stood over you.

“What the fuck are you thinking?!” She snapped.

You slowly sat up, looking at the Walker which she had killed, then turned back to her.

“I needed that.”

“Have you been living under a rock or something? It’ll kill you.”

“I know.”

“Than that the fuck were you doing?”

You stood up, putting your hands into your pockets.

“Whatever, I’m not going to be around to save you next time.”

With that, she turned around and started to walk in the direction she was going.

“I never asked to be saved in the first place.”

This made her stop, and she turned around again, you were walking over to the dead Walker, and she jogged over, standing in front of you.

You stopped, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Leave it alone.”

“That’s the whole point I’m here.”

Her annoyed demeanour dropped slightly, and she furrowed her brows.

“You want to die?”

You slowly nodded your head.

“Why?”

You shrugged a little bit, and she sighed.

“What’s your name? I’m Rosita.”

“(Y/N).”

“Where’s your group? Do you have a group?”

You shook your head, and Rosita gestured with her head down the road.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

You sighed, nodding your head as you followed her.

You had spent enough time out there to know when it was safe to follow somebody or not, and she didn’t see as an immediate threat to you.

You had nothing that could have interested her, you had no food, no weapons, no spare clothing or blankets or medicine.

You were hoping maybe if you humoured her on this she would leave you alone, and finally you could carry on doing what you were doing.

“How long have you been on your own?” Rosita asked.

“I don’t know.”

She nodded her head.

“Have you ever killed any walkers?” She asked.

You nodded your head.

“Have you killed any people?”

You shook your head.

“Why?”

“Why would I? You’re the first person I’ve seen for a while anyways.”

“Really?”

Rosita looked at you, and you nodded your head.

She took a moment to properly take in your appearance, you looked exhausted, tired, you had dead eyes, no spark of life.

Your clothes were bloodied and dirty, and you had some dirt on your face as well, you weren’t carrying any weapons, you didn’t seem to have any bag or anything like that.

Digging through her pockets, Rosita pulled out some of the biscuits she had been carrying around with her in her patrol.

She held them out to you and you looked at them before looking back at her.

“Go on then. They were made this morning.”

You took them, and you opened the paper, carefully taking one of the biscuits, handing her the rest.

You looked at it carefully, you smelt it, then finally you tried to a little bit.

“It’s nice. How did you make it.”

Rosita gestured to the large gates that were in front of you and you stopped, looking at them.

“I’ve seen this place.”

Rosita nodded her head.

“Yeah, we’ve seen you around. A few of the others did try find you, but when they came out you were gone. Where have you been staying (Y/N)?” She asked.

“Town nearby.”

She nodded again.

Rosita walked over to the gates and they were opened, and you trailed after her, not really paying anyone else much attention.

You weren’t interested in getting to know them or talk to them, all you wanted was a shower, some clean clothes then to leave.

Rosita took you back to where she was staying, she let you use her shower and rounded up some spare clothes for you.

They were too big, but clothes were clothes, and you could afford to be picky anymore about what you wanted to wear.

Making your way back down the stairs to where she was standing waiting.

“Can I go now?” You asked.

“No, not happening.”

“Why?”

“Because I know if you go out there you’re going to get yourself killed again. So, you’re staying. Come on.”

You sighed and followed her.

You thought maybe if you stuck around for a little bit then you’d be able to go, but Rosita kept a close eye on you.

Wherever she went, you had to go with her, and if you couldn’t then she would leave you with Gabriel, who would then watch over you.

He did try get you to speak about your troubles but you refused, Rosita on the other hand never once asked, she just looked after you.

You never changed your mind though.

You wanted to end the suffering, you wanted to end your own life because anything or anyone else could.

But you could never bring yourself to do it, which was why you needed the walkers, it was your only chance because once you were bit that was it, you knew it would be over.

But you weren’t allowed outside of Alexandria, and that was because of your insistence on trying to get bit.

Sitting on the steps to the house, you slowly ate at the food in your bowl, looking up at Rosita as she sat next to you.

“So, what did you do today?” She asked.

You turned a little bit so you could look at her.

“Gabriel showed me how to play chess. It’s really hard.”

“Yeah, I never really got the whole point of it.”

“Me neither. But he seemed happy so it’s okay.”

Rosita glanced over at you.

“Are you happy?”

You paused for a moment.

“I don’t think I’ll ever really be happy. But that’s okay. I’m content here.”

Rosita nodded, and she studied you for a moment.

You hadn’t really showed much improvement when it came to being happy with yourself, happy with life or want to actually live since staying at Alexandria.

On the other hand, you didn’t seem so determined to die, so she couldn’t tell if it was a win or not.

“You know you’re not alone.” She said.

You glanced at her, then looked away.

“We’re all alone.”

“We’re not. We have each other right?”

You nodded.

Rosita leant down, grinning from ear to ear as she looked at you.

“So we’re not alone.”

Rosita held her fist out to you, and you tapped your fist against hers, which made her grin a little bit more.

“Me and you yeah?”

“Yeah…”

Rosita turned around, resting her back against your side, and you put your head on her back.

You had spent a long time running, evening before everything that had happened, a long time hating yourself, a long time battling with the thought of being alive or dead.

You weren’t sure you knew anything else at this point.

But Rosita wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you’d been adopted as her own family, you weren’t really alone anymore.

But that didn’t change anything.

Recovery was a long road, learning to grow and accept life as it was is a long road, and you both knew that.

Rosita didn’t often take people under her wing, but there was just something about you that day that she couldn’t get out of her head, made it hard for her to just leave you.

She couldn’t.

She was going to keep you close, and she was going to keep you safe

#the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n #twd imagine #rosita espinosa #Rosita Espinosa x reader #Rosita Espinosa x you #Rosita Espinosa imagine

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

About Last Night

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Req from @noteonthepolaroidpicture : all of the baby bats either in velaris or in some other court (maybe autumn n they’re older along with Maude or something) plan to sneak out and go to Rita’s (or some bar in another court) and baz is very much ‘they cannot catch all of us’ and of course they all get caught but it’s a very admirable effort by them. And Knox is very much ‘I told you’

Warnings: Creepy guy hitting on Zuzu and Asteria, drinking, partying, mentions of blood.

Word Count: 5,211

Notes: A little taste of the older bat babies a lot of you have been wanting. Enjoy! 🥰

_________________________________________

“Look Giddy, I know you want to see your girlfriend and all that, but if we get caught, we’re in deep shit,” Wren argues, a stern look on his face and arms crossed tightly over his puffed out chest, trying to seem like he’s the one in charge.

He isn’t.

“If we get caught,” Gideon defends, before adding as an afterthought, eyebrows furrowed, “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

He rolls his eyes at all of the knowing looks his sisters and cousins give him at that little statement, cheeks tingeing red in betrayal.

“Besides,” he brushes off, coming around to Baz’s side. He slings an arm over his cousin's shoulders, an easy grin replacing the frown he’d just been wearing, knowing the younger male will be the easiest to convince to agree to his antics, “If we don’t go, we’ll have no cool stories to share when we’re older.”

Wren's mouth parts, another protest on the tip of his tongue but Gideon’s quick to cut him off, “And, if you don’t think that our parents are guilty of sneaking off you’re only playing yourself, Wrennie.”

The latter cringes at the use of his childhood nickname, sharing a look with Nyx.

“You’re not talking about a different bar Giddy, you’re talking about a whole different court,” Sif wrinkles her nose at her older brother, and Castor agrees.

“And one in Autumn.”

“Fine,” Gideon responds breezily, but the rest of his family knows he’s not about to let this crazy idea go. “Stay here. Go to the same hole-in-the-wall our parents have been going to for centuries. Baz and I will go. Right Bazzy?”

Wren's younger brother takes a moment, looking around the circle at each of his own siblings. Wren, with his wide eyes, pleading with him silently not to agree. Zuzu, looking as bored as ever, giggling with Asteria over some male she’d seen in Summer. Jax is as stoic as always, but that pinch in Baz’s gut tells him that his younger brother could use the excitement.

And the twins. Malos, who’s picking the dirt from under her nails with the curved tip of her most precious blade, smirking while Knox speaks into her mind–

The group startles as someone stumbles out the backdoor of the bar and into the alley, clearly drunk out of their mind. The bassy music and loud conversation spill from the building until the heavy door swings shut, cutting it off abruptly.

The male digs deep into his pockets, grunting as he struggles to free his hand from the tight fabric once he’s grasped whatever is so important, unaware of the eleven sets of well-trained eyes watching him, grinning triumphantly when he produces a thickly rolled snout.

He places it between his lips, bringing his free hand to the end of the joint, and with the snap of his fingers a flame flickers to life. Knox’s brows twitch while Malos’ eyes widen with intrigue at the blatant use of magic.

The male hadn't noticed the large group of young adults arguing, for they’d all gone silent in his presence, watching the drunkard struggle with his treat. He suckles at the tip of the joint, holding his breath to let the smoke leech into his lungs, before exhaling all of his worries away, white smoke curling from his mouth like the few shadows sweeping around the group protectively.

Mirthroot.

The male coughs into the crook of his arm at the strong flavor, the smoke sticking to his throat, and finally seems to realize that he’s not alone. He blinks once, twice, trying to clear the glaze from his vision.

He staggers closer to the group, not picking up on the way they all bristle, wings tucking closer to their backs with tension.

It’s Zuzu and Aster he stops next to, of course it is. They’re dressed scantily, ready to head into the bars and immediately wander off from the rest of their families in favor of prowling the dance floor for potential suitors, waiting by the bar drinkless until males and females alike send one their way.

Zuzu looks over her shoulder at the man. He’s a half head taller than her in her heels, not handsome, but not quite ugly either. So she forces her red painted lips into a sultry smile, batting her eyelashes, the face she’s mastered, one that will get her almost anything she wants from any stranger.

It works, the corner of his mouth lifts in response, gaze flicking towards Asteria who’s also smiling at him like he’s the most handsome thing they’ve ever seen, watching with round eyes as he brings the joint to his mouth for another drag, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

“Two very pretty girls,” he grins, sidling up close to Zuzu. His voice is like gravel, like he’s smoked a tinge too much mirthroot tonight, “Might I have the pleasure in–”

“Yes,” Zuzu agrees immediately, plucking the joint from his grasp. The male’s mouth parts in protest but Asteria’s stepping forward, trailing a red dipped nail down his alcohol stained shirt.

“We’ll look after this while you go inside and get us some drinks,” her smile is alluring. He seems to mull it over for a second, hazy gaze drifting down to where her hand is on his chest, up to her gleaming violet gaze and then over to Zuzu, who has his joint hanging limply between her clawed fingernails.

He agrees then, stumbling back a step as he rushes to get the pretty females their drinks, calling over his shoulder in a rough slur, “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere, pretty girls!”

Malos makes a face while Castor seems awestruck at her older cousins who snicker to each other as the male gives them one last eager look before dipping back inside. They mentally take notes at how easy Zuzu and Aster have made it look.

The males of the group relax slightly now that the male has swooped inside like a knight on a mission from princesses, although, they suppose that’s nearly what they are, with their parents titles. Tension melts from their tight wings. It’s much too early for their talons to be ruffled by some asshole in the street.

“You’re not going to smoke that, right?” Nyx points disgustedly at the man's joint in Zuzu’s grasp.

She rolls her eyes, red lips curving into a wicked grin as she stubs it out on the side of the building and holds it up with sparkling eyes.

“Let’s see what this will get us in Autumn.”

“Not you too,” Wren groans, brushing a hand through his dark hair, free hand on his hip. He looks towards Jax and the twins for some sort of reinforcement, even though he’s the oldest of the six.

“Knox says we’ll get caught,” Malos provides in a bored tone, sheathing her knife and crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn’t want to burst Wren’s bubble, but a part of her is itching to go, to explore a different court.

Wren breathes a sigh of relief but it’s short lived because Baz’s mouth curls into a splitting smile. All of his siblings groan at the sight, knowing exactly what that look means.

“Anyone else care to wager how far we’ll get before mom and dad find us?”

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Maude Vanserra meets them at the border of Autumn, her younger sister and brother in tow.

She’s thrown herself into the arms of Gideon, who, despite telling his sisters and cousins that Maude is not his girlfriend, secretly is.

Juniper perks up at the sight of Sif and Castor, nearly flinging herself into a group hug with her two best friends, while Rook grows smaller under the lingering gaze Malos throws his way. The youngest has been forced out of the palace by his sisters, who, for once, actually want him to go out with them.

He’s a dashing young male, with his unruly amber hair brushed back from the glowing embers of his eyes, a crisp white shirt hanging off of his thinner frame, the first two buttons undone in haste.

He’d much rather be at home, reading strategy books or playing whatever wraith he can find in a game of chess, especially when he catches sight of Gideon and Baz, two of the loudest troublemakers in Prythian.

“C’mon,” Maude squeals, grabbing Gideon’s hand and tugging him along to the front of the group, “Let’s get this party started!”

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Chlo’s is nestled in the foxholes of the Autumn Court, a place where none of the Night Court children had been before. In fact, they're pretty sure they aren’t allowed to be in here, not because of who their parents are, but because the city reminds them of Velaris, hidden and protected from above ground.

There’s music in the streets, not dissimilar to the music found in the Night Court. Bonfires litter the foxholes as they walk, males and females alike gather around the fiery pits, dancing and drinking and laughing the night away.

Knox shakes out his wings, brushing off the uncomfort he’s feeling from being unable to see the stars in the sky, sharing a look with Jax, who looks equally as uneasy.

He’s regretting not slinking away with Malos, who never truly let herself have a night off from Spywork, their shadows whispering in his ear her whereabouts.

Even Wren has given up on complaining once they’re entered the bar.

It’s nothing like Rita’s, that had been around for ages. Chlo’s is all dipped cedar and dark pine, flanked by a pristine cafė and a rundown storefront that claims to do psychic readings. Faelights beam in colored glass jars that are swinging throughout the room like strobes. The folk music from around the bonfires disappears as the plucky strumming of the guitar and deep bass of the drums plays unabashed, the bodies of fae and creatures alike gyrating to the lust lined music.

“Now this is awesome,” Zuzu breathes, dark eyes casting around the room in wonder. She peels away from the group with Aster on her heels, mirthroot joint tucked behind a pointed ear as they beeline towards the bar, eager to try the autumnal flavored drinks.

Castor, Sif, and Juniper head for the dance floor, giggling like school girls as they slip through the crowd with ease, hands linked together like the flower children of Spring.

Even Jax seems to be feeling lighter, absorbing the would-be overwhelming emotions filling the space, had he not mastered his powers at a younger age. The air is filled with excitement, carelessness, and a hint of lust that makes his throat thick. His hazel gaze glosses over as he revels in it, mouth twitching into a blissful smile.

Nyx and Wren find them an unoccupied table, settling into the chairs with minor struggle, the wings at their backs shifting awkwardly to wrap around the backrest. Jax slips into an empty seat without complaint, looking lighter than he has in years, while Knox kicks out another with a heavy boot, flipping it around to straddle the high back of the chair, wings resting comfortably at his back.

Baz, Gideon, and Maude move towards the bars for drinks, leaving Rook standing nervously at the table full of tall winged males, clad in all black and as intimidating as the cauldron itself.

He really should’ve stayed home, the youngest Vanserra thinks as he slumps into one of the empty seats.

Knox blinks, looking around the bar with all-seeing eyes. He hasn’t called his shadows back, figures it would be safer for Malos to have them creeping along with her while she’s snooping through the Autumn Court. He sends her a mental note not to stay out too long, to which she replies immediately, Missing me already?

Dearly, sis, he replies with a roll of his eyes.

Her laughter echoes in his mind and with quick word that she’s already on her way back to meet them, she’s gone.

Knox tries to settle into his seat, but finds himself at a loss. Malos is on her way and he’s with his siblings, but the bar is nearly too dark for him to be able to sign across the long table to Wren on the other side, and he isn’t sure how to conversate with Rook, if he even knows sign language, and Jax seems to be strangely in a world of his own right now, so fiddles with the thick ring on his finger while he waits for his drink.

Wren and Nyx are in deep conversation when a tray full of drinks slams down on the table between them, held by a grinning Baz.

“You’ve got to try these,” he exclaims, handing out shots to Nyx and his brothers. Maude and Gideon follow with their own trays, pitchers of drinks and a multitude of shots line each, presumably for the rest of their party.

Wren sniffs at the glass Baz hands him. The singing smell of alcohol burns the back of his throat and the tinge of cinnamon chokes him as he swallows the dark liquor down. He makes a face, frowning up at his brother.

“What in Mother’s name is this?” Nyx asks for both of them.

Baz shrugs, clinking his glass against Gideons and Maudes who’s cups are raised in a silent toast to themselves, “I don’t know but it’s awesome, isn’t it?”

The two oldest share knowing looks, well aware not to trust what Baz suggests because it’s most likely the thing that will get them in trouble.

Rook takes his like a pro, slamming the empty glass onto the table and quickly reaching for another. His pale, freckled cheeks have a rosy blush to them from just the first drink, and all of a sudden the first few undone buttons of his shirt don’t seem like they weren’t clasped because he was rushing, but now seems purposeful as his shoulders loosen with the alcohol.

The drink turns out to be some sort of cinnamon moonshine Maude had told them would put them on their asses when they’d each eagerly reached out for a second shot.

Jax forgoes the liquor, opening his senses more and more, letting the happiness and fun wash over him, loosening his tight shoulders. He turns to speak to his youngest brother, catching the prick of discomfort he feels when his eyes lock on a pretty female slinking through the crowd.

His mouth goes dry at the sight of her and he’s quickly mumbling to the youngest as he slides from his chair, “Be right back.”

Knox puffs out a silent breath as he watches his brother go, slinking through the writhing bodies with the stealth of a snake. He sits up in his chair, trying to follow Jax’s path but he loses him quick enough, slumping down, fingering the rim of his glass.

His dark eyes cut to the clock behind the bar, taking note of the time. He knows that their father is going to catch them, there’s a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach that says so, but even so, it’s nice to see Gideon with his girl, his siblings letting loose.

If only he himself could do the same.

Rook looks as bored as he is, tipping back on the two hind legs of his chair, a drink clasped close to his chest as he watches with sharp eyes both the party members and the crowd around. Knox watches intently as the youngest male does so, the gleam of his golden necklace catches in the bouncing faelight but the shadowsinger can’t quite make out the shape of it.

He averts his attention before he gets caught.

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Malos stalks into the bar thirty minutes later, her itch to spy around the Autumn Court unfulfilled.

She’d wanted to find out more about the shadow hounds she’s heard so much about, looking to try and lure one out with her own shadows, but hadn’t caught sight of one of the protected animals of the Court.

She pushes through the bodies without a care, and no one dares call her out for her actions once they see her glower, the massive wings and fighting leathers. They don’t even know about the numerous weapons sheathed within them.

She almost wants one of them to bite back at her, stir up some trouble. Preferably someone at least twice her size or with a knack for fighting.

She feels up for a little challenge.

But no one does, not even her older sister when she brushes through her and Aster, her shadows trailing her like obedient dogs.

Zuzu tugs on her hand but it’s not a fight she wants, laughing tipsily as she tries to get Malos to dance with her.

A smile tugs at the corner of Malos’ mouth, all she will allow before she’s twisting Zuzu into a spin, twirling her right into Aster’s arms. The pair spill into a fit of giggles before deciding to get another drink.

The younger sister takes the unoccupied spot next to Knox, scooping up an abandoned shot and knocking it back like it’s nothing. It’s sweet, the taste of cinnamon coats the back of her throat like syrup and she grimaces at the taste.

Not even her Aunt Nesta would drink this shit.

She doesn’t even get a chance to speak to her twin before Nyx is sliding into Jax’s empty seat, slinging an arm over her shoulders with an easy grin on his face.

Malos blushes at the contact, trying to shove the older male off of her. The heir doesn't budge, just plants a wet kiss to her cheek and beams, holding up another drink for her to take.

“Where’ve you been?” Nyx asks loudly–knowingly–in her ear.

She cringes away on instinct, glaring at the sly look on her twin's face, who blanches under her gaze, smartly averting his gaze to try and catch a glimpse of Jax.

She can smell the liquor on his breath. It’s hard not to, with all of the empty glasses littering the table. He’s faring better than Baz and Gideon though, who have their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, drunkenly serenading Maude and Wren, who are only encouraging it.

“Around,” she replies smoothly, voice even like her father taught her.

If she’s going to be Nyx’s spymaster some day, she’ll have to keep practicing.

“You need to catch up,” is all he replies, cheersing his glass against hers.

Reluctantly, Malos takes the drink, glancing at Knox on the other side of her.

How much longer?

Should be any minute now, he replies, arms crossed as he leans on the tall back of the backwards chair, looking as relaxed as ever for someone who’s awaiting the downfall of their plan.

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Baz should’ve seen it coming, he really should have.

But he’s having too much fun in the Autumn Court, with their fast-paced music, whimsical drinks, drunk and partying with all of his family. It’s everything he wanted tonight and more; dancing with the girls, trying to out drink his brothers.

His shadows are hissing in his ears but the bass is too loud and he’s not focused, can’t quite hear the urgency over the fun that he’s having. He bats them away when they ruin one of his toasts, and Rook nearly topples out of his seat when they skitter his way.

Three things happen all at once.

One.

The shadows beneath the table awaken, shifting and slithering around each of the Night Court children’s ankles and pulling tight, chaining their legs to the ground.

They startle, sharing wide eyed looks between each other and harsh swallows of guilt, knowing they’re in deep shit.

Two.

Sif and Juniper’s beaming smiles drop, looks of terror replacing them as they catch sight of the bulky figure striding for them. The crowd parts easily, some grumbling about how the night is going to turn chaotic from the sight of those broad wings, some sneering at the Night Court females.

Castor hasn’t noticed, back to the looming male. She’s having fun, buzzing from the spiced cider she’s had and dancing wildly to make her sister and Juniper laugh. Her eyes are shut tightly, grin stretching across her face so hard her cheeks ache, until she runs into the brick wall of the male at her back.

She spins on her heel, ready to tell them off but her mouth goes slack as she stares wide-eyed up at him, a firm frown on his face.

“Dad?”

Three.

A shadow crawls over the shoulders of the two females at the bar, drinking in the attention from a group of fit fae males while they await their cocktails of choice.

If they had been paying more attention they would’ve felt the rippling power throughout the nightclub, seen the fae lights flickering overhead.

They share a quick look and a low curse, before Zuzu and Aster paint on their most innocent faces as they turn towards the crow of darkness standing at their backs.

The High Lord of the Night Court stands behind them, arms crossed over his chest, a disappointed look on his face. Rhys has even put on one of his most extravagant crowns for the occasion, dark painted iron and gleaming onyx gems that drink in all of the light.

The young warriors surrounding them cower under the harsh violet gaze of the High Lord, slowly backing away in hopes he won’t notice.

“Let’s go,” he growls, grabbing each female by their wrists and winnowing away into nothingness.

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

“Knox wins, again,” Malos mutters, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes.

They’d all been dragged back to the Night Court without a word from their fathers, and now they’re all standing in a line before them, mothers and fathers furious with them for their actions.

Her twin looks down the line of siblings and cousins, a smirk on his face that clearly states ‘I told you so,’ but when his fathers withering glare turns his way he ducks down bashfully, shrugging in defense, signing a lame ‘I’m sorry,’ that he knows will do nothing to get him out of trouble.

“This isn’t something to be won,” Rhysand scolds. His heart hasn’t stopped racing since he’d learnt of his children’s venture to the Autumn Court. And while Beron was no longer an issue at hand, there are many other things that could’ve happened had he showed up any later. “This isn’t some game!”

Rarely have they seen the High Lord like this. Once, when they’d ruined a High Lords meeting by releasing a young snowcat they’d found roaming outside during their snowball fight in Winter, and the other, when they’d all banded together when they were young, trying to steal a slice of the enormous Starfall cake before dinner. The entire table had fallen to the ground, destroying all of the desserts in front of the entire party. They were sent to bed early that night.

Azriel hasn’t spoken. He’s absolutely fuming at what the children have done. A part of him feels so stupid, his shadows screeching in his ears hadn’t been enough to wake him from his deep slumber, after having taken you three times since arriving back from a long trip to the Steppes.

His children had done well in choosing tonight to sneak out, he had to give them that.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with them. Interrogate them all separately like he used to do when they were younger, though he knows that his children had learned some of his ways and have most likely made up a story to all tell their parents.

On the other hand, it’s quite obvious who the masterminds behind the plan are.

But Cassian asks anyway, slipping easily into the voice he uses when he’s commanding an army, “Who did it?”

For a moment, none of their children move. There isn’t a twitch of a hand, a flicker of a gaze to point out the culprit.

At least, not until Rhysand and Azriel let their power leech a little.

That would always get them to break.

The rest of the children flinch, frantically pointing at Baz and Giddy, who sway in their spots, though they’ve seemed to sober up tremendously since getting caught, knowing they’re in deep shit.

They seem to realize at the same time that they are pointing at each other, frowning and protesting at the same time, “Hey!”

“Basil, Gideon, stay put,” Rhys’ tone is fierce, a pointed look pinning the two young males to their spots, “The rest of you, get out of my sight.”

None of the other children dare to respond other than quickly filing from the room with you, Feyre, and Nesta on their heels.

Azriel studies his son intently. His eyes are glossed over, cast downwards to the floor because he knows he’s in trouble. There’s a leaf shaped shot glass tied around his neck and Azriel can smell the stink of moonshine from where he stands.

Gideon isn’t much better off. Mouth bruised and neck littered with love bites from the eldest of the Vanserra daughters. His hair is a disheveled mess and his shirt is rumpled.

They look utterly guilty.

Rhys takes the lead. He’s acting as High Lord first instead of concerned father and uncle, since this incident is a multi court disaster, and he knows his brothers are too infuriated with their sons to speak right now.

“Do you know how much danger you could’ve put everyone in?” Rhys asks, violet gaze unwavering, “I had to send a raven for permission to retrieve you all.” He’s disgusted, they can tell. Baz can hardly look at his father, for fear of the utter disappointment he’ll see.

Gideon opens his mouth to respond but Cassian is quick to silence him, “I don’t want to hear it, Gideon. This is the most foolish thing you’ve ever done! And putting your sisters into that kind of danger all for a female? What were you thinking?”

His son shrugs, biting his tongue because he wants to yell back that Maude isn’t just some female. Baz tries, “But we had Wren and Nyx with us! And Malos and Knox! And Jax! We’re all trained, we know how to defend ourselves!”

He doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact that Azriel responds with an icy calmness, when Baz wishes he would raise his voice and scream at him, or the fact that of course, his father is right.

“That’s not the point, Basil. You may know how to defend yourselves, but in a different court, should something have happened, it would not be so easy to help you out of it.”

The shadowsinger’s frozen with anger, with fear. He’s immediately brought back to his childhood, when he was locked away from the rest of the world. If his children had been seized and locked away like he was…he can’t even think about it, the churning in his stomach is enough. His mind is racing a thousand miles a minute, and hasn't calmed since getting all of the children back to safety in the Night Court.

He’s afraid he’s losing his mind.

A gentle thrum vibrates in his chest, like a purr. You, calling out to him through the bond, sensing and sharing his fears, but trying to be supportive in the only way you know how while you’re in separate rooms.

He eases only slightly.

“Your brothers and sisters are not spymasters yet, you should remember that,” each word tastes like acid, he hates the fact that he even needs to be having this conversation.

Baz’s shadows pick up on the well-hidden emotions of his father and his throat goes thick with emotion.

“Dad–”

“Enough, Basil,” Azriel raises a hand in response, shaking his head slightly, “Hear your punishment with no complaints. Then, we are going home.”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles, cheeks burning with shame as he steps back next to Gideon to await his punishment.

Rhys looks back and forth between them, trying to decide a punishment worthy of sneaking out the court. He knows that Gideon is a young male in love for the first time, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the thought of what he was like when he was young and in love.

And Baz…he knows Baz means well, that he wants to please his siblings, wants them to have a fun time no matter what they are doing. He has much to learn, if he ever wishes to be as good a spymaster as his father or warrior like his uncle.

“Gideon,” Rhys starts and the older of the two looks up, ready to accept his punishment, “You’re to help Aunt Elain out in the gardens. You’ll be–”

“But what about my allergies?” he protests loudly. A harsh look from Cassian shuts him up, huffing quietly, “Yes, High Lord.”

“Basil,” Rhysand turns to his other nephew, “You’re going to spend one hour a day with Bryaxis.”

Baz’s mouth drops open in shock. He glances to his father whose eyes have widened only slightly, before they get that familiar gleam, and he knows he’s speaking to his High Lord.

You can’t put him down there, Azriel hisses to his brother.

And why not? Rhys’ brows twitch but he doesn’t avert his gaze from his nephews.

This is Baz we’re talking about. Baz and Bryaxis? I can’t even imagine the kind of friendship my son will have with the beast…what kind of trouble they’d get into.

Shit, you’re right, Rhysand agrees, before amending his punishment, “I’ve changed my mind. Baz, you will be bringing Amren her dinner for the next two months.”

“Fuck me truly,” Baz mutters under his breath because she’s a way scarier beast than the monster in the library is.

Gideon can’t help but to be relieved with his punishment, mild compared to his cousins. He’ll take an itchy nose over having to take blood to Aunt Amren anyway.

“And the both of you are on doubles for training until your father’s deem you sorry enough to stop,” his violet eyes cut to Cassian’s, then Azriel’s, a hint of amusement glimmers there before he finishes addressing the young males, “Starting this morning. At first light, which is now only an hour away. Rest up.”

They are definitely going to make their son’s hangovers a living hell.

Baz bites back a groan, shoving Gideon when the older boy starts for the door. He stumbles and throws a glare over his shoulder at his cousin, but chooses not to say anything because the entire thing was his idea and Baz hadn’t ratted him out, even though he easily could’ve.

“And one more thing,” Rhysand calls after them, and they turn slowly, a bad feeling settling in the pits of their stomachs.

“You’ll be walking the stairs in the House of Wind, right now.”

“Try not to be too late for training, boys,” Cassian adds, siphons flickering with his words.

He owes Baz big time.

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rainydayathogwarts · 4 months

Note

congrats on 1k!!! could you please do steve harrington with dialogue #3 and prompt #4? that would be amazing :)

Steve Harrington

Thank you bae :)) Join my 1k celebration here!

"It's not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling." & Realising you don't hate each other at all.

You felt as though your eye was nearly twitching, playing with the fries in front of you as you stared at Nancy, cuddling into Jonathan's shoulder and giggling at the unfunniest thing he was saying. You fake laughed along with them, eyeing Steve, who sat stiffly next to you. He caught your eye and you both shared an awkward smile, immediately turning back to face the flirtatious couple. Nancy put a hand on Jonathan's chest, who looked at her proudly, as though he had done something to impress her. You made a face at them, only for Nancy to finally look at you and Steve, noticing the lack of chemistry you shared. Why did she think that of all people, Steve would be your perfect date for the night? King Steve, who always made it a point to flirt with your friends whenever you were around, or who always tried to one-up you no matter the situation. King Steve, who would always scoff at you since you befriended the enemy. Or at least, Billy Hargrove.

"Oh come on, this is a double date, I'd expect you guys to try to make some better conversation here." Both you and Steve scoffed at the same time, muttering things under your breath. "It's not a double date Nance, we're just third and fourth wheeling." Steve let's out a half-hearted laugh, nodding along before adding "Yeah and I bet if I took a look under the table right now, we'd be doing a lot more than just that." Both you and Nancy gasp, but for different reasons. She's becoming red in the face and shuffling away from her boyfriend, but you've turned to look at Steve with raised eyebrows in admiration of his boldness. "Gross! But he's right, we should leave you guys alone." You're glad for the excuse, and you both quickly slip out of the booth, ignoring Nancy's attempts to call you back to the table.

You and Steve stop when you're outside the diner, chuckling slightly. "What kind of hosts are they, am I right?" You say, trying to fill the silence in the air. "Hosts who were probably interrupted while having sex today." You cringe, looking back to see Nancy's in Jonathan's arms again, this time uninterruptedly kissing in the otherwise empty booth. "Good thing we left when we did." A hum of agreement comes from Steve, who returns his attention to you, running a hand through his hair. He notices how you shiver when a gust of wind hits you, your hands digging deeper into your pockets. "You're cold, take this." he hands you his jacket "Least your date can do." You both grin, and you take the denim jacket from his hands, pushing your arms through the holes.

The denim fits loosely around your shoulder but you sigh in satisfaction, welcoming the warmth. It's only when you see that Steve himself is trying to warm himself from the breeze that you remember an important detail. "Hey, I have the keys to Nancy's car!" A devilish grin spreads on Steve's face and he puts his hand out once again, and before you know it, you're getting payback on your friend, even though you know she'll be going home with her boyfriend. Steve immediately turns the car heater on, and adjusts the radio before he's driving away in a direction you're not very familiar to.

You can't help but stare as he sings along off-pitch to some bad music from a local band, smiling to yourself before you join him, opening Nancy's car compartment to steal her mint gum. "Ooh, me, me!" You laugh at Steve, who's waiting with an open mouth, and drop the piece of gum into it. He hums as he chews it, savouring the flavour. As though he could feel your eyes on him, he turns his head to face you, a glint in his eyes you haven't seen before. "You know, you're not too bad Harrington." You state, turning back to face the road ahead. "Yeah, I'm pretty aware of that."

#stranger things #stranger things fics #stranger things x reader #rainydayathogwarts #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #st fic #stranger things fic #nancy stranger things #stranger things smut #1k celebration #1k followers #nancywheeler #jonathan byers

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jawllines · 9 months

Note

this is a reminder for the firemanrry blurb thank you blossom🫶

HIII SORRY FOR FORGETTING HEHEHE

YOU COULDVE READ THIS EARLIER ON PATREON!!

“You’re whiny.”

Getting to this point had taken a lot of build-ups; more than Y/N typically cared to deal with, but she seemed to bend many of her primary irritants when it came to Harry. How he snores, how he likes to cuddle after sex when they were hot and their skin was sticky, how he’ll beg and pout when she tells him she isn’t going to bake muffins Saturday morning because she bakes all week (“but I’m not making you bake alone, we’d be doing it together). Things like that would usually get deep under Y/N’s skin, how they did with other people –but Harry wasn’t just some other person. With Harry, it was kind of cute.

Sometimes, her feelings swelled in her chest and overwhelmed her so immensely that she was unsure how to verbalize them. So she tries to show him how much she cares, in how she treats him, in what she makes him, in how patient she is with him. Like when he’s tiptoeing around something new he wanted to try in bed, all jumpy and jittery, full of nerves. He gets this look in his eyes when he wants to say something or ask for something, but it withers away on his tongue.

It leads to a lot of Y/N asking, “What is it?” And him smiling sheepishly and shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

Y/N can only do this so many times before she finally lets it get to her. It had been a few weeks now since she could tell he wanted something from her but didn’t know how to ask. And it wouldn’t have taken a genius to know it was something regarding sex, because when the topic came up that’s when he had that look in his eye again. Maybe Y/N would ignore it if it wasn’t important to her to satisfy his needs as he satisfies her own (she’s all about give and take when it comes down to it), but it is important to her.

But she’s patient as she always is with him, letting him pussyfoot around it for a couple of weeks before she finally snapped. They’d been kissing when it happened, Harry breathless and needy, his hands dancing around her body like he couldn’t figure out where he wanted to hold and what he wanted to grab. Engulfed by his desires, he started to let it slip out, parting from her to suck in air and to breathe, “I want –” against her lips before he smears them back over her mouth.

Humming, Y/N nips at his bottom lip and bites back a smile at the sharp whine that leaves him, “Hm? What do you want?” She skates her fingers up his shirt, squeezing his sides, “What’ve you been keeping from me?”

Harry is dazed, when he draws back to look at her, eyes all glassy and unfocused and it’s just horribly endearing how worked up he gets just from kissing. He shudders, and with one hand on her hip he digs his fingers into the flesh and he pauses, like he’s thinking about it. Indecisive about what he wants to do next.

It’s only when he starts to shake his head like he’s going to brush it off again and bend down to kiss her, Y/N threads her fingers into his hair. She grabs at the root, firm in a way he likes, and tugs just enough to keep him from progressing. A moan leaves him, deep and low from his belly, “Harry,” she says, her tone warning, “What is it that you want?” This time she asks it slowly, enunciating every syllable, leaving no room for hesitation or question. She speaks it in a way that says she knew he wanted something – something he’d been trying to hide but doing so poorly at.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it just for a few seconds before he falters beneath her gaze, “I want to – I wanna try you inside of. . .inside of me.”

Y/N blinks at him.

“That’s it?” She tilted her head, the fingers in his hair now card gently through the strands, stretching her fingers out to untangle the curls.

“What do you mean that’s it?” Harry pouted, “That’s kind of big, isn’t it?”

Y/N shrugged, “Not really,” she told him, “I thought you were g’na ask to piss on me or something.”

“Y/N –” he starts to whine again.

“--but you want me inside of you? That’s manageable and easy – is it just my fingers you want, or do you want me to peg you?”

Harry lets out another shuddered breath, “The – both,” he clears his throat, “I want both.”

Y/N nodded, “Order one then, and I will.”

Somehow, Harry manages to appear even more sheepish, his face already flushed pink now a blazing red, “I already. . .” he trailed off and it only takes Y/N a couple of seconds to realize that he’s already made the purchase. A startled laugh leaves her throat, and she pets him like he’s a cat, rubbing over his shoulder blades.

“Oh wow, you really do want it.”

He whines again, hiding his face in her throat and Y/N laughs again. He presses a kiss to her skin, then nips at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, “Have you before?” He inquired and Y/N hummed, tracing circles along his skin.

“Mhm,” she thinks back to it – it was a while ago, but she remembers she slept with a guy who was really into it. It was nothing remarkable or special, really, and Y/N hadn’t really thought about doing it again until right now – until she started thinking about how cute Harry would look beneath her. He’s already precious while she’s riding him and he’s breathless and panting and needy. . .she feels like this would be a reaction similar, but doubled. Something even better – something that makes her squeeze around nothing at the thought.

Harry grumbled, pulling back and he pouted again, “Your lip is gonna get stuck like that.” She teases and Harry sighs, brows furrowed.

“I’m not your first?” Y/N smiles at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, guiding him backward so she could sit up from where she’d been spread out on the bed.

“You’re jealous?” She teased again, and Harry, always so honest, nodded.

“Yes,” he huffed, “I’m jealous. Sorry.”

“You’re silly and you think too much,” she urged him even further, so he dropped his bum to the bed, leaning back onto the mattress and letting her drag his sweatpants off, “Do you want to be on your belly or on your back?”

Harry chooses his belly, his face and neck pink with a flush she’s sure splotches down his chest and torso as he rolls over onto his stomach. He’s already hard, dripping enough that there had been a small wet spot on his briefs and she gives him a slight reprieve from any more teasing for now. They were in his room, and Y/N knows that he keeps lube in his bedside drawer so she reaches over and plucks it out, popping the cap, while simultaneously placing a pillow beneath his hips, “Have you ever had your fingers in yourself before?”

“A few times,” he murmured, muffled against the pillow he’d dragged to lay his head on, “But I – only like 1 or 2.”

“You’ve got pretty big fingers,” she told him, sliding her hands over the warm skin – he’s got a cute little bum, Y/N’s always thought so, and she’d always appreciated that it wasn’t flat or too muscular. He was soft, and the flesh yields to her touch, “I bet it felt pretty good.”

He sucked in another shaky breath, “I just – I imagined it was you, the whole time.”

“You’re cute,” Y/N sighs, leaning in and kissing between his shoulders before she takes the bottle of lube and squirts some on her fingers and then between his cheeks, murmuring an apology when he hisses from how cold it was. Y/N figured it should be a bit messy – partly because she knew the more lube the better, and it would aid in the glide of her fingers – and partly because she wanted to hear her fingers squelch while she fucked him with them. She was already enjoying this much more than the first time she’d done it, and she hadn’t even gotten a finger in yet.

Harry’s soft and pink, when she splits him open for her to see and he wriggles beneath her gaze. He’d just showered – honestly, they were halfway to going to bed for the night, but Harry had snuggled in beside her and started kissing her soon after he’d put clothes on. She has half the mind to lick into him but she thinks that might be a lot for the first time they’re trying this together.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” she murmured, “At any point, and we will.”

With that, she slides one finger against the rim, listening to him inhale deeply as she traced along the outside and waits for him to relax enough that she could slip inside of him. She lets him get used to the idea of the intrusion before actually pushing forth with it, sinking her index finger inside of him slowly, feeling his walls contract and pulsate around her to accommodate the addition.

She sinks down to her knuckle and then curls her finger, biting back a smile when Harry moans, loud and unabashed as she brushes against his prostate, “F-fuck,” he cries out, “More.”

“Ohh, that was quick,” she murmured, “I kind of thought I’d have to work to make you beg.”

“No teasing,” she can hear the pout in his voice though she can’t see it, and with her free hand she traces circles into his lower back.

“I’m not teasing,” she curls her finger again, and his hips jump forward, brushing against the pillow in front of him, “I was just noting. You’re more of a slut than I thought.”

Another moan, loud and whiny, and Y/N doesn’t stop herself from smiling this time.

This was much better than the other time she’s done it.

. . .

Harry should have known Y/N would be meticulous in her approach to this; she is with all things. He’s certain that is what makes her such a good baker – she knows exactly what she needs to do, how she needs to do it, and what she would need to do – for every cake, bread, or cookie she’s making. Despite her relatively relaxed and ‘go-with-the-flow’ nature, she was incredibly diligent and detailed when it came to doing certain things. Her baking, for one, but that was a given. How she makes her bed in the mornings, she’s pretty strict about that (unless Harry is asleep in it still, then she leaves it be but he knows better than to leave it unmade when he wakes). The order she maintains her skincare routine, she can be pretty thorough as well.

And last, but not least, she’s most detailed and scrupulous in how she can pull Harry apart.

She’s always been good at it – from the first moment that she walked in on him touching himself, she knew exactly what to do and how to do it. As if Harry’s pleasure was an intricately woven puzzle for her to carefully pluck and pull apart as a means to amuse herself. One that wasn’t all too difficult, honestly, because it doesn’t take much to have Harry shuddering and cumming in his pants.

He’d been so nervous to bring it up but he doesn’t know why – Y/N was Y/N; the worst she could say is no, but she would never judge him or be cruel about it. She was horribly blunt, yes, but she wasn’t mean – she was honest in a way that Harry has never experienced from someone in his life. It was refreshing today as it was the first time they met in yoga.

Secretly – or, well not so secretly, he did admit it to her – he was jealous that she had already experienced this with someone else. Retrospectively, he knew it was beneficial to the both of them and they weren’t fumbling around trying to figure out what to do and how to do it, and in turn, it made the experience better for the both of them. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel a little whiny about it. The thought of Y/N with anyone besides him fills him up with such intense jealousy he couldn’t ever voice it aloud, though he’s sure it’s written all over his face even when he tries to hide it.

But she gives him no time to really dwell on it because she’s flipped him over and has been fucking her fingers into him. Working him up, grazing and brushing his prostate teasingly before actually stroking it, punching into it, curling her fingers (the three of them she’d worked inside of him) until he had softened up (his muscles, not his cock – he’s never been as hard as he was now). Harry is rocking his hips against the pillow, feeling the fabric stroke against the sensitive tip of his dick that’s sticky and wet from all he’s leaking. It’s too much – it feels too good – and all the while Y/N is telling him how much of a whore he is. How slutty he looks around her fingers, how good he’s taking it.

At some point, he’d maneuvered so he had his knees bent, and it gave him more leverage to fuck back against her fingers. This stirs a pleased and surprised-sounding laugh from behind him, “Oh?”

“Please,” he whimpered, “Please, please –”

“Do you want to cum on my fingers?” She inquired, “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

He gasps wetly when she reaches around, fitting her hand between his body and the pillow and curling her fingers around the base of his prick, squeezing tightly, “Yes, yes, yes, I need – I need it.”

“Ohh, you need it now?” She leaned forward, kissing the small of his back and keeping both of her hands still, “Where’s it at, baby?”

Harry somehow manages to instruct her where the strap-on he ordered was hidden beneath his bed, and Y/N withdraws her fingers from him slowly, wiping them off on his bum before reaching over the edge of his mattress. There’s a lot of fiddling behind him and he tries to ground himself while he waits, taking deep, slow breaths, keeping his muscles relaxed and softened for her. Y/N playfully taps the head of the dildo (what was a sparkly blue, a little smaller than average size since it was his first time) against his bum and giggles. Then she does it again against his rim, and the giggle Harry shared with her turns into a wanton noise, “Do you want to stay on your belly?”

He was still a little embarrassed for her to see him like this, so he nodded. Harry hates how quick he is to get worked up, and he feels silly for how even just the tip of it against him made him feel like he was going to cum. If he was actually looking at Y/N while it happened, he’d probably cum before she could even bottom out – so he’d stay on his belly for now. Y/N noses at the nape of his neck, a moment very tender and soft for what they were about to do.

The stretch isn’t as unbearable as he’d imagined it might be. Y/N had spent ample time stretching him out and getting him relaxed so he thinks that aids a lot in the entry (plus the obscene amount of lube he heard her squirt onto it); slow and steady she presses into him, rocking her hips gently. She rocks more and more of the dildo in until he’s seated against the fake balls and he can feel the rough fabric that’s keeping the harness velcro onto her. As he’s getting used to feeling so, so, so full – Y/N wraps around again and twists her hand over his cock. His erection hadn’t flagged even a bit, which he guesses Y/N had not been expecting, “You feel good?”

“Mhm,” he hums, rocking his hips into her fist, “So good, I want you to move – need you to move.”

“Are you sure, Sweetheart?” She is stretched over him, her cheek pressed to the side of his head while she murmured in his ear, “You ready for me to fuck you open?”

“God, please.”

Just as Harry does with her, Y/N starts slow and then builds up her pace. At first, it’s just a gentle rocking, and Harry feels the soft silicone drags at his rim, a smooth glide in and out as he’s merely getting used to the feeling of it being inside of him. Y/N fixes her hands on his hips, cants them in a certain way, and makes sure the pillow is still bunched up beneath him on one of her pulls out – and when she sinks back into him, he sees stars, “Fuck!”

Y/N breathes another laugh as she focuses on that spot, not holding back, and even though Harry can tell that the movements are slightly clunky and a little on the slower side (she doesn’t do this often, obviously it would be a little difficult) she makes up for it in the force behind each thrust. She punches into his prostate and each time more precum leaks from him, dripping onto the pillow, making it messy, and in turn his cock strokes through it. Everything is stimulating him, it feels like, even how the sheets feel against his skin, and how Y/N kisses wetly at his throat, nipping and sucking and biting, “It’s a shame I can’t cum in you, hm? I bet you’d look pretty with it leaking out.”

“I’m cumming,” he barely whines out, the bubble of heat rapidly expanding from a small trickle to a full-on wave, “Cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” It’s full-bodied, all-encompassing, rattling through his body and shaking through limbs. He simultaneously presses back into the fake dick and forward trying to run away from the overstimulation of it, but he only bucks into her hand then. His fingers dig into the pillows tightly, Harry’s moans and mewls crescendo as he spurts hot and wet from his tip – some even hits his chin.

Harry basks in the afterglow of it, chest heaving as Y/N’s hips slow to a stop. She spends some time kissing him, only this time she slides her hand under his cheek against the pillow and has him meet her mouth. The positioning makes it hard to properly kiss, but it works, even if Harry is just panting hotly against her mouth, his tongue curling around hers. Eventually, while he’s distracted by the kiss, she slowly slides out of him with a squelch that makes Harry wince and he frowns at the empty feeling.

The sound of Velcro detaching is what finally gets Harry to flip around, and before he can even settle, Y/N is crawling over the top of him. Her knees bracket his waist, and she hovers over where his cock had begun to soften, “Did you like it?”

Harry smiled, nodding, “So much,” he murmured, “Thank you for doing this with me.”

Y/N gets a look in her eye that Harry can only describe as fond, as she moves forward to press a kiss to his cheek, then his nose, then his mouth before she’s leaning back up again, “Don’t thank me,” she replied, “Get hard again and fuck me this time to show me you’re grateful.”

Harry’s prick twitches between his thighs.

That wouldn’t be too difficult.

#BLURB #AND OR #BLURBS #HARRY SMUT

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booppooo · 2 years

Note

Ellie popping fem!reader's cherry 🥺🥺🥺 making fem!reader suck her strap before fucking her

Never.

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader One-Shot

AN: no bc Ellie has a strap for sure - I will die on this hill if I have to.

Warnings: sex toys, oral, fingering, swearing, unestablished relationship, cherry popping, orgasm denial, sub & dom dynamic

(comment credits!)

You were at Ellie’s for a sleepover.

It had been a while since it was just the two of you spending some quality time together - not that Jessie or Dina were a pain to be around. You two had exhausted all her video games, danced enough to her music, taken a few guitar lessons, and went through her new trading cards, leaving you both tired. A movie didn’t sound half bad and wouldn’t wake up the neighbors at the ungodly hour you two were awake at.

She popped in Jurassic World and flopped next to you on the bed, pricking a piece of popcorn from the bowl in your lap.

“I don’t think I’ve ever watched this,” you commented, getting more comfortable on her bed.

“Never?”

You thought for a moment, “Mm no not ringing a bell.” Then a lightbulb lit up proudly in your head.

You grabbed Ellie’s hand and forced her to spread her fingers, then tucked her thumb into her palm.

“Wha-“

“Never have I ever!” You explained with a smile.

At this she nodded in understanding and giggled, then caressed her chin in thought before blurting out her prompt: “Never have I ever done something I regret while drunk.”

You looked at her tiredly, “Low hanging fruit,” your thumb now rested against your palm, “Never have I ever had a girlfriend.”

She scoffed, “C’mon man! You’re supposed to say stuff you don’t think I’ve done.”

“Exactly! Everyone’s done something they regretted while drunk.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head, “Not me - not yet at least. What did you do?”

“No I” - you waved your hand dismissively - “I..it’s not important.”

“Ohhh but now you have to tell me.”

This wasn’t how this was supposed to end, so to avoid an embarrassing story you gave her puppy eyes, which she outmatched with her stupid little smirk that she knew you fell for every time.

“I promise I won’t tell!”

You bit your lip and pondered telling her, but ended up giving in when she started pleading.

“Fine!” you groaned, “I may or have not made out with Dina…” you cringed at yourself and closed your eyes in disappointment.

Ellie gave you a bored look, completely unsatisfied, “Really? That’s it? Everyone has made out with Dina. I thought you were gonna say you banged someone you didn’t want to.”

“What? No! Of course not.”

Ellie took your defensive response into consideration, figuring there was more to your words than what you were letting on. She was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Y/n…” she scooted closer to you with prying eyes.

Afraid of her next move or query you shifted your torso closer to the opposite wall, “Ellie…”

“Have you ever had sex?”

The question hit you like a train, making your heart drop into your stomach and brain mush. If your answer wasn’t obvious by your red-hot face than your nervous fidgeting certainly gave it away.

Your answer barely made it past your lips, “I-I mean does that even matter? So what if I-“

“Dude, just answer the question.” Ellie knew the answer, she just wanted you to say it out loud.

Jerk.

With defeated sigh you let your shoulder slump over and your gaze fall to your lap, “No…”

You couldn’t see it but Ellie had the most mischievous and evil grin crawling across her freckled cheeks. She leapt from the bed and began digging around under her bed, revealing a black box and dropping it in front of your crossed legs.

“Is this my ‘congrats on still being a virgin’ present?” You remarked while setting aside the popcorn on her nightstand.

Ellie hummed and teetered her head from side to side, “I mean…yeah, basically.”

After rolling your eyes at her ridiculousness, you slid the box onto your lap and gave her a final glance before lifting off the top. The sight inside made you gasp in horror and slap the lid back on.

“Ellie what is that!” You shoved it off your lap.

She took it into her hands with care and tossed off the top, “It’s a strap,” she informed as it were common knowledge.

It was truly awful, “Where the Hell did you even get that? H-have you used it?”

All your nervous questions made her chuckle, “Dina and I were cleaning out this apartment and found a bunch of stuff in a closet. She got a vibrator out of it - still hasn’t told me if she likes it or not.”

“Ellie?!” You exasperated.

“What? How do you think lesbians fucked in the old world? Cat said I was pretty good with it.” She mockingly wiggled a brow at you.

All of this was beginning to be too much for you. You knew Ellie was goofy and full of surprises, but this was on another level. There was nothing to feel but shock and embarrassment. To add insult to injury she began to slip it on over her pajama shorts.

“I…” there were no words to express how confused you were.

She proudly rested her hands on her hips and turned to face you, “Whatcha think?”

You slapped your hands over your eyes and shook your head. Then a familiar touch wrapped around your wrists and moved your fingers away from your eyes, “Aren’t you even a little bit curious? I already said I wouldn’t tell.”

A sweat broke out on your forehead and you faintly began to tremble. But despite your nerves you’d be lying to her and yourself if you said you weren’t filled with tons more questions.

“Uh..” you stuttered, “Does it hurt?”

Ellie shook her head, “Not if you are wet enough.” Her upfront language had you sighing in horror again.

You swallowed hard and flashed a hesitant look down at the silicone, “H-have you had it..like..” you motioned toward your groin.

“Yeah.”

“And you…?”

“Yes I liked it.” She giggled and held your hands away from your face, “If you want to, I’ll pop your cherry. I may be biased but I think you’re better off with me than with some meat head.” She winked.

You felt yourself go ghostly pale. Ellie was completely comfortable talking about it, every word out of her mouth made your palms that much more clammy.

Yet…you knew she was right.

Ellie was never a romantic interest of yours but her confidence and knowledge about it all made you feel inclined to take her offer. Besides…what’s the worst that could happen? Hesitantly you agreed.

“Hey, we don’t have to-“

“No!” You blurted out unintentionally, “Uh-no. I want to.”

Her full lips were tugged into a smirk and she nodded, “You tell me when to stop.”

With that, she released her grip on your wrists and cupped your cheeks, inching closer and closer to your lips. When the space between you two finally closed, her softness made all your tension begin to dissipate. Your shoulders relaxed, your fists released, even your upset stomach burst into butterflies. As a reflex you sighed against her lips and let your hands loosely fall around her neck.

Gradually you both made your way onto the mattress, your head falling onto the pillows and Ellie hovering over you. She began to shift your shirt up to reveal your bare chest and stiffened nipples. Pulling away she let one of her hands rest beneath your breast and raised and eyebrow to check on you to which you nodded eagerly and couldn’t pry your eyes away from her slim fingers. They wrapped around your soft mound and groped firmly while her lips fell to your other nipple to leave a delicate kiss. The sensation made your breath catch in your throat, unsure of how to process the sight and feeling, but your uncertainty was put to rest when Ellie took your nipple into her mouth and swirled her tongue around your stimulated bud.

Instinctively, your fingertips snaked into her soft locks and gently tugged every so often when she licked or sucked your skin a certain way. You hummed in delight, catching yourself drifting away into another dimension of pleasure and stimulation, and Ellie noticed. With a sigh you pressed your chest closer to her face and let your eye settle close.

Icy fingers slid down your torso until they reached your waistband and danced in and out of the elastic until you hummed approvingly. She shifted to your other peak and started with some soft kisses until she was leaving purple patches on your skin, meanwhile her other hand was working to press your thighs apart. Ellie could feel the slight dampness on the fabric of your panties and didn’t waste time diving underneath them and exploring your center. The feeling made you sit up slightly and gasp, eyes wide with wonder and pleasure.

“You okay?” She wondered against your flesh, pressing her cheek against your chest.

“Y-yes…do that again.”

She circled your clit with her middle finger, “That?”

You bit your lip and groaned, nodding approvingly.

Complying, her finger caressed your tender bud while sloppy kisses littered your torso, vibrant green eyes locked onto your flustered expression. Her fingers were covered in your slick, coating your folds and some making your inner thighs sticky - she couldn’t wait to delve deeper into you. When she saw the way your face started twisting up with pleasure and your pants turned into soft moans she knew you were close, and because of that she pulled her hand from your panties and her lips from your waist.

You bolted upwards and eyed her down, “Wh-what the Hell? I was almost done!”

Without a word she slid off the bed and took a step back, pointing to the floor in front of her sternly. Confused, you tilted your head like a dog hearing a strange noise, until she spoke:

“On your knees.”

In your head you tried to connect the dots, your sight darting back and forth from Ellie’s serious expression and the silicone toy protruding from her waist.

Oh.

“Ellie I never-“

“Shut up. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

This new side of her scared you. She was bossy and stern, but in a way that made you want to follow her every command. You wanted her to tell you what to do, to be in charge. She knew you were inexperienced, so surely she wouldn’t do anything to hurt you…not intentionally anyway.

Not keeping any longer you slid off the bed onto your knees with your hands in your lap. You waited patiently for her next order, willing to learn and please. She spit in her palm and then onto the toy, using the hand she had used on your womanhood to lubricate the silicone and prep it for you. As phallic as her moves were, you loved every one of them and couldn’t help yourself from shifting on your heels to alleviate some of the pressure heating up your core.

The toy was heavy in her hand, “Open up..” you complied, slacking your jaw, “Mm good girl, that’s it.”

Slowly she pushed the tip of the toy past your lips and along your tongue until she heard you gag, the toy uncomfortably hitting the back of your throat. Despite this Ellie still grinned, looking down at you with a primal glint in her eye that you wanted her to act on.

For stability your hands fell to her thighs and you slowly bobbed your head. It was hard but you tried your best to take in more of her every time you nose neared her naval without tearing up too badly or gagging too loudly. You felt one of her hands fall to the back of your head and help guide you along the length of the toy, pressing her lips together and gazing down at you with ungodly intentions.

“You’re doing so good Y/n…fuck you’re so hot.”

Her words made you even more eager to please her, and your center even more desperate as you ground down on your heels. Eventually she picked up the pace, rocking her hips in and out of your mouth despite your gaging and the tears trickling down your cheeks. You wanted to take it all.

Then she suddenly pulled out, giving you emotional whiplash, ogling at your spit covered lips and damp chin. Tear streaked cheeks and wide eyes. Ellie couldn’t hold back anymore, and neither could you.

So you let her rip you from the ground and toss you onto the bed, your hips hinged over the edge and ass in the air. When you glanced over your shoulder you saw the pleased and snarky smile on Ellie’s lips, her eyes tracing down your body until it landed on the shamefully large damp spot on your shorts.

Pressing two fingers to the spot she purred, “Look at this…nobody has picked your flower but you’re soaking like a slut. How ‘bout that?”

You couldn’t help yourself. Ellie’s experience and dominance left you completely submissive and willing to whatever she had to offer - and this made you desperate. It left you dripping.

As Ellie tugged down your shorts she returned to a softer nature, her fingers tickling the skin on your lower back and thighs teasingly. She would touch and prod and trace everywhere but where you wanted her, and when she did finally push aside your sticky undergarments the cool air made you gasp. Another gasp ripped through your throat when her middle finger slid into your glossy center. She was delicate and waited until you had adjusted some, paying attention to the pink on your cheeks dying down, until she pressed against your g-spot. The moan that fell out of your lips was a surprise to you both and it made Ellie’s head spin, it also made her lose control of her self composure and furiously pump her finger in and out of your cunt.

“Ah -! Ellie oh my God!” You whined as your torso collapsed onto the bed and your knees grew wobbly.

Her ring finger joined her middle finger and drew more moans from you and a lewd squelching bounced off the walls of her small apartment, “Yeah that’s it…” Ellie hummed.

When your moans grew louder and more choked, walls clamping against her fingers, she denied you yet again another orgasm in replacement of the point of this entire endeavor. “You ready? I’ll be slow.” Ellie rubbed your lower back and groped your ass in anticipation. After you nodded affirmatively - completely frustrated and deprived - she gathered your slick onto her fingers and coated the strap, adding her spit for good measure. Though you were nervous, you were ready, beyond ready. And Ellie could see it too by the way your eyes were glued to the silicone and how they grew bigger and bigger as each inch of the toy sunk into your hole.

The stretch was foreign and at times painful, but Ellie had worked you up enough that it didn’t matter because all you wanted was the relief you knew she could bring you. You felt so close yet so far from your climax and you were reaching your breaking point, staring off by slamming your hips back against Ellie’s with a needy hum. It didn’t take her long to her the message, grabbing your hips with an iron grip and leaning down to whisper into your ear, “You asked for this,” before ramming the strap into your sopping cunt.

Each thrust slammed you against the mattress and made you cry out in pain and pleasure. This wasn’t how you imagined you losing your virginity, being bent over and split in half by one of your best friends minutes after she introduced to what a strap even was - however it turned out better than you had ever expected it. You wouldn’t have it any other way. You were completely blissed out and would be content with being Ellie’s play toy forever.

For more leverage she propped one knee onto the bed and groped your ass to give you a better arch, pounding deeper and faster into you, the tip ramming against your g-spot almost every time without fail. Then her fingers wrapped around your torso and began toying with your clit, not caring about being detailed oriented and sticking with the theme of being sloppy and rough.

“Ah oh God Ellie! Fuck fuck fuck!”

Though you didn’t warn her explicitly she knew exactly what was happening, so she amped up the power, gripping a fistful of your hair and rocking her hips as deliciously as she could.

“Yeah baby c’mon give it to me!” She egged you on, but her words all but fell on deaf ears because after what felt like eons of orgasm denial, you reached your climax.

Your legs shook, your voice broke as you croaked out her name, euphoria stimulated every nerve in your body. Usually when people share their first times, the word awkward always pops up in the conversation, but you felt like you and Ellie had broken a stigma because this would make you happy if it was the first and last time you ever had sex. Eventually your orgasm slowed down and you were brought back down to earth only to have your head filled with fog and your groin sore. Ellie could see how vulnerable you were by the glossiness in your eyes so she took special care to tend to you: gently cleaning you up, kissing up your back, letting you borrow a clean pair of shorts and helping you to lay down.

Once you settled into the sheets and picked at the remainder if the popcorn Ellie joined you. Some silence was shared between you two and at first you thought she had fell asleep (rightfully so), but some stirring prompted you to face her.

“Never have I ever let my best friend take my virginity.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams smut

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