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doomsday-dj · 2 months

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I wrote all day and here this is: Desire Is No Light Thing

Rizzoli & isles Rating: Mature Words: 4822

Maura has had enough.

She parks her car in front of the professor’s house and leans forward so she can see the upstairs windows. The bedroom light is still on, its warm glow leaking out around the edges of the drapes, alerting her to the fact that Jane is still up. If the light alone doesn’t suffice, Maura watches as the curtain flutters and the light from inside flashes brighter just for a moment, surely a result of Jane’s sixth sense reliably alerting her to an unexpected presence. Something flutters inside Maura’s chest too, a flame grows then wanes.

There’s no turning back now.

Or is there? If Maura just drove away, would Jane inquire about it? She definitely would have, once. In fact, there would not be any need to follow up. A couple years ago Maura’s phone would already be ringing; Jane’s wiry frame, her explosion of hair, would already be silhouetted in the opened door of the house.

Tonight, the door remains shut. The only light on is still the one in the bedroom.

So, okay. Maybe for Jane this can still be forgotten. But for Maura, there’s no turning back now.

The moment she’d left Jane’s sublet, Maura’s gut started twisting itself into knots over the conversation they’d had. She’d driven all the way home, parked, and got as far as putting her hand on the door handle before she was starting the car back up and pulling out.

Jane had worried out loud that everyone was moving on and she was still the same. Maura had reassured Jane that Jane was changing too and she was—Jane was unquestionably different from the woman with whom Maura had first become friends. But ‘change’ is value neutral and as soon as Maura stepped out onto the street her mind started hammering away on whether the cumulative differences in Jane truly amounted to change for the better.

So now she’s back. Maura steels herself with a deep, fortifying breath and steps out of the car. Before she can knock, the door opens and the hallway light comes on at the same time. Jane had crept downstairs without turning on any lights. Maura winces a little at the unexpected brightness.

“Maura.” Jane’s tone isn’t exactly questioning, but she does sound puzzled. She says Maura’s name like it’s an unexpected piece of evidence in an ongoing investigation.

“Jane.” Maura makes sure her own tone is firm. She looks Jane over quickly. Jane has since gotten ready for bed, now clad in well-worn pajama pants and a thin white tank top, that stupid fake tattoo standing out starkly around and beneath it. Maura knows it’s not possible, but the bruise on Jane’s forehead somehow looks worse than it did half an hour ago. It all softens Jane and Maura isn’t sure if this will make things easier or harder.

“Did you forget something?” Jane asks, not yet moving out of the doorway. She looks over her shoulder, scanning the kitchen and small living room for any reason Maura might have returned.

“No. Well—yes. Can I come in, please?”

Jane turns back to Maura in surprise. She looks down at her own socked feet, set in a wide stance and blocking the path into the house, as if shocked to find herself barricading the entrance. She backs off quickly, hand still on the doorknob.

“Yeah, sorry, of course,” Jane says. Maura passes quickly through and Jane shuts the door behind her. “Uh, so you forgot—”

“You have changed,” Maura says, whirling around on her heels to face Jane. Jane looks only increasingly perplexed.

“Yeah, you said so earlier.” Jane speaks slowly, wheels turning as she tries to figure out what’s going on. “And I appreciate—”

“I’m just not sure if all of it’s good.” Maura exhales sharply, almost triumphantly, as she blows past the point of no return.

There’s a flash of annoyance on Jane’s face first, likely a result of being interrupted for a second time, but it quickly shifts into confusion as she processes what Maura has said. A flicker of hurt and then Jane’s expression goes hard. Her back straightens and she stalks closer to Maura. In their everyday life this often has an intimidating effect, but with Maura in heels and Jane without shoes at all it only draws Jane up to Maura’s full height. Maura looks on defiantly.

“What did you say?” Jane says.

“I think I’ve made a mistake, Jane. I’m just not sure if it’s one big one or many cumulative ones.” Maura turns away from Jane and walks over to the kitchen counter where their half-drunk bottle of red still stands. She pours herself a generous serving before turning back.

Jane blinks. “You’ve made a—sorry, I’m stuck on the ‘changed for the worst’ implication. Could you possibly, uh, elaborate?” Jane’s irritation is present in her voice but there’s something else colouring the edges and Maura’s pretty sure it’s fear.

“I think your relationship with your mother has improved. Though, for the record, I think it’s because she’s put a lot of work into becoming her own person as much as it’s anything you’ve done,” Maura says and Jane draws her head back like she’s being attacked.

“Maura, what the hell. Where is this coming from?”

“You’ve been withdrawing from everyone, Jane. From everyone , but especially from me. I think I first really noticed it after your apartment burned down and I told myself that when we caught Alice, you’d return to me—to us.”

Jane’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Shoot. Maura might have shown her hand a little. She plows ahead.

“But you didn’t. You got worse, in fact. And when I started to really think about it, I realized the roots of this go back much further, way before Alice, though I’m not exactly sure how far. I think maybe around the time of the bridge.”

Jane scoffs loudly. “Maura, I’m just trying to have boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Maura’s tone is skeptical.

“Yeah, boundaries.” Jane hits the ‘b’ loudly and snaps off each word. “I realized everything was a little too entwined and I’m trying to change that.”

“You realized this after the bridge?” Maura speaks calmly and from the way Jane relaxes just slightly, Maura knows the detective is about to walk into her trap.

“Yeah, after the bridge.”

“Let me get this straight, then.” Maura takes a slow sip of her wine. “You jumped off a bridge, and then, in your estimation, everyone was a little too concerned you may have drowned in the fucking Atlantic ocean?” Maura’s voice starts off quiet but she’s nearly yelling at the end of it. Jane’s eyes bug out when Maura swears. It takes Jane a moment to collect herself before she can speak.

“My family needs—”

“No, stop.” Maura holds her hand up. Jane’s jaw clenches.

“I swear to god, Maura, if you interrupt me one more—”

“You’ll what?” Maura does it on purpose, with relish. Jane’s eyes narrow dangerously but both women know that whatever Jane was going to finish with would only be an empty threat. Jane doesn’t continue, so Maura does.

“I don’t want to talk about your family, Jane. I think you’re withdrawing from them too, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t actually care about that right now. I want to talk about us.”

“Us?” Jane says it so skeptically, like the concept of an ‘us’ composed of her and Maura is a foreign concept. The nerve of it is astounding. Static roars in Maura’s ears and a war begins inside of her, one between nature and nurture. Every drop of Southie blood circulating through her system wants to grab Jane, maybe hit Jane, while her Boston Brahmin upbringing urges her to cut with ice. She pulls a long breath in through her nose and throws her shoulders back, forcing her features into impassive lines. It doesn’t exactly settle the age-old debate, Maura just knows Jane well enough that she's certain which will hurt more.

“Yes, Jane. Us. We were best friends.” Jane’s face twitches at the use of the past tense and Maura makes sure she doesn’t betray any of the satisfaction she feels.

“We were too close,” Jane says dismissively and Maura gains another edge because unlike Jane, she doesn’t react when cut.

“According to whom?” Maura asks coolly.

“Being close to me is how people get hurt, Maura. You kept getting hurt.” Jane shrugs.

Maura scoffs and drains the rest of the wine in one go. She slowly licks her lips and watches as Jane’s eyes dart away from her own for just the briefest moment. It’s all Maura needs to be sure of her next move.

“So I think it’s both,” Maura says. Jane is immediately confused. Maura lets her sit in that confusion as she sets her glass down and takes a few slow steps over to Jane. “I think I’ve made one big mistake but I’ve also made many cumulative mistakes.”

“You don’t really make mistakes, Maur.” Jane’s voice has softened and she is scared, Maura realizes. The nickname, in the heat of battle, is a dead giveaway. Jane is trying to thaw the ice, soften Maura’s edges. Maura refuses to be made docile.

“Professionally, no. Almost none. Personally? Romantically? A litany.” Maura watches Jane swallow harshly at ‘romantically.’

“Let me tell you about some of the ones specific to you, Jane. The first one isn’t really my fault, I don’t think. You were the first best friend that I had so I made the mistake of believing that the way we were around each other was how friends behaved. I believed that friends touched as much as we did, slept together as much as we did. I made the mistake of thinking that the way I came to feel was my fault, because nothing about how we interacted was unusual.”

Maura watches as Jane’s nostrils flare slightly, giving away Jane’s need for a deep, steadying breath.

“Another mistake, Jane, is that in the last few years I’ve made myself small for you. Everywhere else in my life I’ve blossomed and I won’t be so cruel as to deny that a lot of that is to your credit. I have friendships that are independent of you. I’ve stood up for myself with my odd assortment of parents. I have cultivated, I think, a pretty good sense of humour. I’ve come to know what I truly want out of life.”

Maura looks Jane right in the eyes and takes a deep breath.

“But while I grew big everywhere else I’ve let you push me away and I’ve let you put me in a box. I’ve supported you every time you’ve come to me for help and I’ve asked almost nothing in return. I thought, perhaps, you were on a journey to greater self-awareness, that the distance would allow you to see better, but you’ve just decided to keep running.” Maura lets her words breathe for a moment, then finishes with an uppercut.

“And my big mistake, Jane, is that I thought you were brave. But you’re actually a coward.”

Jane reacts like she’s been shot and Maura knows that for a fact, since she’s seen it happen. The accusation pulls all the oxygen out of Jane’s lungs and she fills them with hot air, ready to defend herself against the truth.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jane’s yelling now. “Pulling away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it was the only thing I could do. I had to protect you.” Jane had stood stock still while Maura spoke but now her limbs fly everywhere as she gestures grandly. “Every bad thing that happens to you is because we’re too close and being in my orbit was going to get you killed eventually. Hell, before you got here I was on the phone with Agent Davies, asking about a job at Quantico. That way you’re safe and everyone else doesn’t have to worry about me.”

Jane drops her little revelation about the FBI like it’s checkmate and, not for the first time, Maura wonders if she’s actually any good at chess.

“No, Jane,” Maura says derisively. “Every bad thing that happened to me is because we weren’t close enough. If you want to run off to Virginia to protect yourself , be my guest, but don’t pretend that I’ve ever benefited from any distance between us.”

“What?” Jane exclaims. “Maura, please be real.”

“I’m being very fucking real, Jane. For the first time, perhaps. I’ve been so, so happy to have you in my life and for a long time I wasn’t willing to risk anything by rocking the boat. But now, apparently, I’m going to lose you anyway so there’s nothing to risk.”

Jane’s eyes flash in warning as Maura comes right up to the edge. She doesn’t care.

“I’ve let you pretend you don’t want me, Jane. I’ve let you be so deep in denial that I think sometimes you genuinely believe you don’t. I’ve denied those feelings in myself, I’ve denied their existence to others. And everyone in our lives has played along with it. Everyone ignores it, for your sake. But turns out, the evil people in our lives have no reason to do you the courtesy of ignoring it, so they manipulate it.

“Every person that gets close enough to hurt me is able to do so because you’re pretending I’m not your weak point, but everyone knows. Everyone can see it. Hoyt saw it.”

Maura has seen Jane angrier than she is now, but never before has it been directed at Maura. She gets right up in Maura’s face and somehow manages to make herself seem taller, even in her socked feet. Despite all the fury, maybe because of it, a fire ignites between Maura’s hips.

“You’re trying to tell me that if we—” Jane cuts herself off, still unwilling to put it into words. “You’re saying you wouldn’t have been in the infirmary with me?”

“Of course I would have been there, but maybe we would have seen it coming. I’m certain we would have realized that given his modus operandi, I was at risk.”

Jane glares, unconvinced. That’s fine. Maura’s trump card is her next one. She closes the last few inches of distance between them, her chest brushing up against Jane’s and their breath mingling. She dares Jane to be the one that backs off and she can feel the detective rock back on her heels for a moment before refusing to budge further.

Good.

“Alice Sands could see it, too, Jane,” Maura says coldly, right in Jane’s face. “All the way from prison, she could see what I meant to you, she could see how it would hurt you, and because you so badly wanted to pretend otherwise, convinced yourself otherwise, you thought it had to be Angela. So Joe Harris kidnapped me. You think that happens—” A deep breath, a redirection. She’s not going to ask a question, she’s going to state a fact. “If you have me how you want me, if we’re together like we should be, he never gets close enough.”

Jane’s mouth falls open in shock. For a moment, Maura thinks she got through to Jane and she can feel the water rising inside her, threatening to spill. But then Jane’s jaw snaps shut, she takes two long strides away from Maura and the tide recedes.

“None of it happens if I don’t care about you, Maura. If I’d never cared about you, if we never got close, no one could use it against me.”

“Sure, Jane, but it’s a fait accompli. ”

Jane turns around to look at her. She’s still angry, but there’s the bare hint of confusion on her features. Maura presses her lips together in a thin line and tries to come up with an idiom she’s sure she won’t mess up.

“You can’t unscramble that egg,” Maura says, privately a little pleased with herself when it’s clear she got it right.

Jane makes a dismissive noise, arms folding across her chest. “Based on our conversation it sounds like I have been.”

Maura rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you think that. I’m sure over the past two years you looked at the distance between us and thought that translated into some kind of progress, believed that you’ve gotten over me. I think I probably made that easy for you, pretending I didn’t see the way you look at me. I’m about to make it easier yet because you’re going to get your wish, Jane. I’m going to walk out of here and I’m going to let you leave for Virginia. I’ll take care of your family and I’ll see you for Christmas, but I will forget you in the way that matters. It will never be what it was again, just how you want it.”

Maura is dying inside but it’s an angry death. It’s much better than the slow one that has thus far been forced upon her. If she can’t have the passion they both deserve she will have this righteous fury as she buries what could have been.

Maura’s going to be the meteor strike and Jane can suffer the ice age that follows.

With everything laid bare, Maura heads for the door but pauses to look around for her bag. It takes only a second for her to visualize it on the passenger seat and remember it’s still in her car but it’s enough time for Jane to make her move. Maura feels those long fingers, the subject of more than one late night fantasy, wrap around her wrist and yank her back. It’s not gentle. She is turned around roughly, teeters precariously on the thin points of her heels, then stumbles into Jane’s chest.

If this were a movie, Jane would kiss her. She glares angrily instead, her grip on Maura’s wrist unyielding, holding it against her chest, pinning both their arms between them.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Jane’s voice is nearly a growl and between the heat of it and their proximity Maura has to clear her throat to suppress a moan. She leans just her head back, unwilling to move her body because of how it’ll react if Jane uses force to keep her in place.

“I’m leaving, Jane. Whatever this has been, it’s over. You win.” Maura stares icily.

Jane sneers. “Is that right? So what, I try to get over you for years and I can’t, but you’re just going to make up your mind and do it?” Her tone is deeply incredulous.

A part of Maura’s brain registers that this is, in fact, Jane’s first admission of a non-platonic feeling. This moment was supposed to be a lot more fun.

“Correct,” Maura says plainly, like she’s confirming her phone number, and tries to pull her wrist away. Jane’s fingers tighten their hold and Maura wonders if her parting gift from their years long entanglement is going to be a bruise.

“Good luck.” Jane tilts her chin up in challenge and speaks slowly, enunciating each word. Her expression has grown smug. “Good fucking luck. You don’t fool me. I might have been in denial but now it’s your turn.” She leans in close, too close, and there’s a cruel edge to her voice that Maura has never heard. “Because I’m in your fucking blood, Maur.”

Jane lets go of her wrist and Maura stumbles back. She’s not sure what the worst part is—if it’s the tone of Jane’s voice, the words themselves, or the ruthless deployment of her nickname. Maybe it’s the literal truth of it, the memory of Jane’s blood being mixed into her own when Hoyt cut into them in quick succession. Whichever it is, it all tumbles together into a ball of hurt the likes of which Maura can’t remember.

She hauls back and slaps Jane across the face. Southie wins.

At the very moment of impact, Maura realizes that she’s striking Jane on the already-injured side of her face. Jane staggers backwards, swearing loudly, her hand flying up to cover her cheek. She stares at Maura with wild eyes.

Maura never meant for things to get this bad. Her palm stings. She sighs, exasperated more than she is contrite.

“Jane, I’m sorry, I—”

The rest of her apology dies in her throat because Jane lunges forward like a cobra strike and now they’re kissing. Jane’s momentum drives them both into the hallway and Maura cries out as her back hits the wall. Jane takes the opportunity to slip inside her mouth and the kissing is rough and angry and all teeth. They crudely jostle for position, and Jane bites Maura tongue while Maura retaliates by sinking her incisors into Jane’s lower lip.

It’s the hottest moment of Maura’s entire life. They’re both slapping at each other’s hands as each fights to be the one to first undress the other, Maura’s advantage being that Jane’s barely wearing anything, and Jane’s advantage being that she’s stronger. Try as she might, Maura can’t get the tank top off of Jane because Jane’s arms are wrapped around her, trying to drag the zipper of her dress down while Maura presses back firmly, trapping Jane’s hand between Maura’s body and the wall.

Maura considers just jamming her hand down the front of Jane’s pajama pants, certain she could have Jane speaking in tongues before she gets any further on Maura’s zipper, but instead Maura wriggles both her palms up to Jane’s chest and pushes her away, hard.

Jane grunts as she’s propelled back a few steps and now suddenly everything is very still. Maura squeezes her thighs together and Jane sees it, eyes dark and hungry.

“What are we doing, Jane?”

Jane’s gaze flick up from Maura’s legs to her face.

“We’re having a big fight and we’re going to fuck about it,” Jane says matter-of-factly. It makes Maura furious all over again. Seven years of putting up with Jane being too scared to name it and now she’s throwing around phrases like that.

“Great, I’m looking forward to it,” Maura says dryly and it takes the wind out of Jane’s sails just enough. “I just need to know whether we’re coming or going?” Jane looks confused, and also like she briefly considers making a joke about ‘coming’, which would be just about the only thing that could derail this night. Maura rolls her eyes and tries again. “Is this hello or goodbye, Jane? I need to know beforehand.”

“Why?” Jane asks. She looks uncomfortable and Maura pieces it together. Sex is fine, it’s the feelings that are still the problem. She thinks she should have seen that coming.

“Jane, I’m going to let you fuck me either way,” Maura says it casually and Jane’s eyebrows jump. Maura smooths a hand down the front of her dress, like there’s some decorum to be had, like it isn’t half undone and about to come off anyway. She levels Jane with a hard stare. “I just need to know if I’m giving you a little bit or if I’m giving you everything.”

“Which one is which?” Jane asks humourlessly.

Okay, maybe there are two things Jane could say to derail this night. Maura exhales noisily.

“Jane—”

“It’s hello.” Jane’s voice is quiet but it’s firm. Maura is caught off guard because it’s not the answer she was expecting. She was sure that this was going to be a long, sweaty goodbye and she just needed Jane to know that as good as it was going to be, it had nothing on what she’d passed on.

Maura takes Jane in. Her hands are tightly clenched at her sides and her shoulders are back. Her dark eyes are almost flint black and she watches Maura with an unwavering intensity. Maura swallows hard.

“If you’re lying to me, Jane…”

“I’m not.” Jane moves forward, gets back into Maura’s space, but she doesn’t touch her yet. “You’re right about everything. I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”

Oh shit. Tears prick at Maura’s eyes and she’s not quite ready to lose her edge like this, isn’t quite sure what to do with a declaration of love that comes so soon after she violently struck Jane in the face. She places her hands against Jane’s chest again, pushing back weakly.

“Wait, hold on.” She can’t stand how wet her voice sounds. Jane presses herself into Maura’s palms, her own hands coming up to rest against the wall, bracketing Maura’s shoulders.

“Let me love you, Maura,” Jane murmurs, her face hovering close.

A broken sob escapes from deep in Maura’s chest. Jane doesn’t interrupt it, skipping Maura’s lips and diverting instead to her neck. The kisses are tender and exploratory and Maura’s whole body is coming online.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” Jane says softly, her breath hot and damp against Maura’s jaw. She presses a kiss just below her ear. “But I think you should give it to me anyway.”

Maura folds like a house of cards. She grabs Jane’s face, mindful of the now twice injured side, and brings their lips together. The first kiss was all hard edges and anger and this one is too soft and overly wet with Maura’s tears. She a little bit hates it but there’s currently no alternative and she has to take Jane at her word that there will be future opportunities to do this with less weeping.

Every few moments Maura has to break them apart to draw in a raspy breath or sniffle loudly.

Jane is undeterred. She guides Maura’s arms so they’re wrapped firmly around her neck and hikes her dress up. Her hand slips into Maura’s panties and Maura cries out softly as Jane parts her quickly, two fingers circling her clit before traveling further south. Maura feels Jane hesitate and she urgently bucks her hips into Jane’s hand. Maura doesn’t want Jane to ask, doesn’t want Jane to say anything about how she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She just wants Jane to take her. She wants Jane to take care of her.

Jane, thankfully, understands. Two fingers slide easily into Maura and she moans and lets her head fall back against the wall with a quiet thud. Jane presses her lips against Maura’s throat.

“You’re perfect,” Jane groans. “You feel…” Jane doesn’t finish, possibly she can’t, and she just mouths at Maura’s neck, biting and sucking gently, her tongue alternating between pointed and flat and Maura can think of only one thing. Jane fucks her gently to start, her hand moving smoothly, finger curling, hooking against almost the exact right spot. Maura’s about to chalk it up to Jane’s incredible intuition but she realizes that Jane is likely just doing to Maura what she personally enjoys and that idea is somehow better.

Maura realizes she’s stopped crying.

“More,” Maura breathes. Jane looks up.

“Harder?”

“Both.” Maura kisses her firmly, running her tongue along Jane’s teeth.

Jane withdraws two fingers and goes about redoubling her efforts with three, Maura’s shoulders knocking back against the wall with every thrust.

Everything about this is wrong. Not the fact that they’re fucking of course, but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this—sloppily, against a wall, after a fight. Jane isn’t supposed to have a neck tattoo and Maura isn’t supposed to be worried about how much mucus she’s producing.

It feels exquisite.

Maura shamelessly wipes her face against Jane’s tank top and Jane’s shoulders shake with a quiet laugh and that above all else is the moment when Maura realizes this really is hello. Before she can ask for it, Jane presses her thumb against her clit and Maura’s whole world constricts down to the space between her legs.

“You’re so pretty,” Jane says breathlessly and that’s all it takes. Maura comes hard around Jane’s three fingers, rolling her hips into her hand, dropping her own hand to Jane’s wrist to keep her where she is, to teach Jane right away what Maura needs to rides out her climax. Jane keeps fucking her, slowing down gradually, replacing the thumb on Maura’s clit with her palm and rocking her hand gently, all the while murmuring soft praise.

Maura’s body wilts. It’s only Jane’s quick reaction that keeps her from sliding down to the floor and Jane holds her firmly upright as Maura finally kicks herself out of the heels she somehow still had on. Reduced to their usual height difference, Maura curls herself into Jane’s chest.

“You’ll stay?” Jane asks, as if there’s any chance that Maura could return home in the state she’s in. But Maura plays along, nods against Jane’s chest.

“I will.” Maura breathes deeply and pulls back to look Jane in the eyes. “And you’ll stay?”

Jane nods without hesitation.

“I will.”

#rizzles #rizzoli and isles #femslash #f/f fanfic #f/f #f/f romance #maura isles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic #rizzoli and isles fanfiction #one shot #smut #angst with a happy ending #f/f smut

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ciccerone · 6 months

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Mellie-Art: WonderQuinn

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iamthecomet · 2 months

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I'm alive I promise! As proof here's 800 words of Cirrus/Cumulus bath time. Magic use, making out, clit rubbing. A miniscule amount of lore. You know all the good stuff.

Many thanks to @mikorsghouls for blessing me with the idea of using air magic underwater. Your brain is so big.

Cirrus is, in a word, comfortable.

The water is hot, the bathroom sealed and steamy. She upended one of Mountain’s bath bottles into the bath before she stepped in. Rose and jasmine petals swirl around her, stick her to damp skin.

Cumulus’ fingers press into her belly, just over her belly button. The other hand rests on her thigh. Cirrus leans back, deeper into Cumulus. Lets the other ghoulette hold her, support her. She tucks her head under Cumulus’ chin, her own nearly dipping into the water. She sighs, bodily. The stress of the day wicking away the longer she sits.

Planning a tour is hard. Harder without Aether around to help. It’s all logistics and phone calls and numbers and a calendar so tight Cirrus is sure one tiny misstep will throw the whole thing off.

The work never ends, and Copia who is usually exuberantly helpful is distant. Tired. Worried about something. Cirrus has found him more often than not in his room playing that ancient video game system looking at the corners of his room like he’s seen a ghost.

He’s crankier than she remembers. More sarcastic. She doesn’t mind that so much except that it’s out of character. She knows the tension is from the upcoming tour. Knows things are at stake. Everyone can feel it. And once they’re on the road it will ease. Being on the road is easy, fun. Exhausting but overall they are all their best selves when they have a show to look forward to.

These last couple weeks before they set out will be torture–already have been. Cirrus has a million things she should be doing right now that aren’t lounging in the bath with Cumulus.

But she really can’t be fucked to get up and do any of them. And, even if she wanted to, Cumulus would never let her.

Cirrus kicks up a purr as she relaxes, eyes slipping closed as Cumulus dances her fingers over Cirrus’ thigh, drawing patterns on smooth skin. Cumulus dips her head to kiss Cirrus’ hair.

“Feel better?”

Cirrus’ answer is a low hum, confirmation. “Can I make you feel even better?”

Cirrus nods. Cumulus’ hand slips a little higher and Cirrus lets her legs fall open further. Knees pressed to the sides of the oversized tub. She loves this tub. Loves every tub in the Abbey honestly. Nearly big enough to swim in. Built for holding multiple ghouls at a time. The depth of it keeping her and Cumulus fully submerged. Cirrus turns her head, braces her temple against Cumulus’ shoulder.

She kisses the damp flesh. Tastes roses, smells sun dried linen. Home.

Cumulus slides her hand higher. Pets a finger over Cirrus’ slit, gentle but not teasing.

“I learned a new trick.” She hums into Cirrus’ hair.

“Show me.” Cirrus says, angling her head up just enough to kiss Cumulus’ neck now, up over the soft line of her jaw. .

She loves it best like this. No urgency. Allowed to just melt into Cumulus, to stay there for hours. To be touched, to touch, with no expectation. Maybe she’ll cum, maybe she won’t. It doesn’t matter.

She feels the disturbance in the water before the bubbles touch her. Cumulus summoning air beneath the surface. Bubbles dancing over her inner thighs, the pace where her clit juts out just so from her lips.

“Fun.”

“Isn’t it? Gentler than fingers. Good to get you warmed up.”

Cirrus needs this. The warm up. Gentle fingers, bubbles, kitten licks. Time to let her body catch up to her brain. Time and indulgence and decadence. Another soft jet of air hits her, a little more this time, enough to make her twitch, to make her gasp.

“Do you like it?” Cumulus asks.

Cirrus nods, she lifts her head, and turns to kiss Cumulus. It’s thorough. Filled with the same lack of urgency as everything else. Just the desire to kiss. To taste. To feel each other. Cumulus replaces the jet of air with her fingers. The pads of her index and middle fingers dragging over the hood of Cirrus’ clit, spreading her a little, delving into her slick folds as they kiss. Slow and sloppy and decadent, and Cirrus can’t think of a single reason she will ever need to leave this bath.

Cumulus pulls away, she pulls her hand from Cirrus’ belly to guide her head back down, to press it to the slope of her breast. Cirrus’ jaw and cheek dipping into the water as Cumulus cards those wet fingers under the dark curtain of Cirrus’ hair to drag over her undercut. Freshly shaved and soft. Motions meant to soothe, fingers moving in time with the ones stroking through her folds.

Cirrus lets her eyes drift closed again. She lets a haze of comfort and pleasure drape over her.

“Don’t stop,” Cirrus mumbles, lips moving over Cumulus’ ever-steady pulse.

“Never.”

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wilfriede · 3 months

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[Podfic of] lena luthor vs. the outdoors

A Supercorp podfic. Summary:

Kara loves to go camping, but hasn’t quite grasped the fine details. Lena, smitten as she is, agrees to go with her. Hijinks, feelings, and bears ensue.

Rating: Explicit Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Length: 1:27:41

A podfic of lena luthor vs. the outdoors by @jazzfordshire, with cover art by @shakespearestolemyurl

Listen to it on AO3!

#my podfic #this is by far the longest podfic I ever completed #I recorded it outside in the garden back in May 2023 #which was fun because of nature sounds in the recording #but which was also was a real challenge because of motorcycles and airplanes #and because of a certain paranoia in this podficcer about reading smut out loud in what is more or less a public space #(I may have lovingly referred to this as “the podficcer vs. the outdoors”)#voiceteam 2023 #femslash february #supergirl #supercorp #podfic

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angelltheninth · 3 months

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Vi Using a Special Strap-on On You

Pairing: Vi x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, artificial cum, rough sex, strap-on use, Vi can feel everything

A/N: Hey did you know you can make artificial cum?! Like for sex only?!

She's barely used strap-ons let alone those with who she can actually feel you, really feel you clenching around her like it's a real cock. It's super sensitive too so every time you squeeze around her you watch her eyes roll back into her head. She needs a minute to regain her focus or else she's gonna bust right away.

"Shit, shit fuck! Okay, I... I need a bit, oh my gods can you stop feeling so good? Is this what they mean by coming too soon cause damn I didn't think it'd be this hard. Damn it, I said give me a break!"

Vi pushes your hips down because clearly her words aren't reaching you. It's too much fun to tease her like this. You can see her control breaking little by little, it won't be long until she's fucking you into the bed to hard your bones turn to mush.

"Stubborn. Just like me. Guess that's why you and I fit so well together huh, sweetheart. We're both made of stronger stuff but I wonder how strong you'll be when I get serious about this?"

Like you predicted, Vi completely loses herself in your love making, spurred on by pussy squelches and moans and your nails raking across her back. The only thing that's keeping her from fully losing her mind is that she wants to be conscious enough to see her cum dripping out of you when she's done.

"I can't wait to fill you up. Bet you... you'll look so sexy. Mmm, you can squeeze now, fuck... so tight, so tight, oh fuck. So good for me, good girl, yes! I can't I need to fucking breed you right now."

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cherryliqueurkinks · 4 months

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femslash february: valentine's edition

An assortment of bite-sized smut in a heart-shaped box for you to indulge in each day until Valentine's Day! Each day will relate to at least one of three prompts below - feel free to play along or share ideas and requests per day.

overstimulation | mind control | shower/bath sex

edging | double penetration | age gap

pool/hot tub sex | teasing | orgasm control

thigh riding | office sex | breast play

degradation | student/teacher dynamic | have to be quiet

filming/photography | mirror sex | car sex

public sex | cunnilingus | clothing kink

leather/latex | stripping | face fucking/sitting

anonymous sex | floor sex | prostitution

corruption | manipulation | captivity

hair pulling | blackmail | intoxication

outdoor sex | piercings | camming

rough sex | uniform kink | praise kink

temperature play | bondage | anal

#aka: i can't commit to a month long challenge but i've done half a month before so here's hoping #femslash february #prompt #prompt list #riverdale smut #also i have intentions of writing at least 1-2 things to post in january before this challenge so fingers crossed

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angstbotfic · 7 months

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Angsty's Smut Challenge Poll #1: Jade Claymore/Kit Tanthalos

since i can't assume people like all of the different ships to do comparisons, and the overall number of fics is low, i'm breaking out the smut challenge by ship. here's the first poll

fic links:

to have and to hold by britomart more than just survival by spybrarian The Bite by acreofwheat like the colours in autumn by pirateygoodness What a pleasant surprise by Silver85

#angsty's smut challenge #Jade Claymore/Kit Tanthalos #ship name is apparently #Tanthamore #femslash

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doomsday-dj · 12 days

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Right in the Kisser Rizzoli & Isles Rating: E Words: 4118

Blood pools in Jane’s mouth as she runs the tip of her tongue along her teeth, a quick and dirty inventory she repeats twice before hocking a glob of thick red spit onto the pavement. She holds up one bloody palm to halt the frantic approach of a wide-eyed Maura.

“I’m fine,” Jane gurgles. Her lips are lightly coated and there’s a faint mist of pink when Jane hits ‘f’ in ‘fine’ that belies her claim. Her mouth is watering or at least she hopes it is—she definitely wants all this wet to be a result of excess saliva production and not blood loss. She spits again, frowns at the new spot of streaky red on the pavement and wonders why the two fluids combine to be so much grosser than either one of them on their own. She keeps her face pointed at the ground but tilts her gaze to peer up at Maura.

The extent to which Maura doesn’t believe Jane’s claim of being fine is being broadcast silently across her features but she has nonetheless heeded to the red-smeared hand held up at her. She stands helplessly, still holding the bat, radiating guilt.

“It’s not your fault,” Jane says, and drools a little as she says it. She wipes the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand and winces as she inadvertently brushes against the cut in her lip.

It’s a little Maura’s fault.

It’s mostly Jane’s, at least 90%, but there’s a small portion of blame that can be laid at Maura’s feet, though Jane isn’t sure she’s ready to admit to her exactly why.

Their friendship is an affectionate one and always has been. Lately, it’s grown to become even more flirtatious and increasingly physical. They’ve both toed the line in the sand so much that it’s become impossible to tell where it had initially been drawn and today is another new twist.

A couple hours ago, Maura had skipped out of her house wearing an outfit so reminiscent of Jane’s high school gym uniform that it was virtually impossible Maura hadn’t researched it: royal blue track shorts with white piping down the sides and along the (very short) hem, paired with a worn-soft heather grey t-shirt, one that seemed unfairly threadbare considering Jane had never seen Maura wear it. It’s not like Maura’s regular exercise clothes leave a ton to the imagination, but something about swapping all that form-fitting lycra for baby soft cotton had Jane reeling from the jump.

Jane had done her best to return the favour once they got to the cages. She stood unnecessarily close when adjusting Maura’s form, let hands linger on her hips when showing her how to engage them in her swing, corrected Maura sharply when she didn’t follow instructions and praised her generously when she did. She could tell it was all getting to Maura. When, rather than just telling Maura to widen her stance, Jane had instead kicked her feet apart exactly as she would before patting down a perp, Maura had outright gasped.

Perversely, it had resulted in one of their most productive practice sessions yet. Whether it was all the flirtatious energy fueling it or just Maura’s stubborn refusal to be thrown off her game, she had been making considerable progress on perfecting her swing. Between loaded words and heavy looks the ball had really started to sing off Maura’s bat.

And then it’d happened. Jane had been loudly reminding Maura about relaxing her grip, shouting soft hands, soft hands as the pitching machine loaded the next ball into its little trebuchet, and Maura had fixed her eyes on Jane and said it:

“Yes, Coach.”

Jane’s brain had short-circuited right when Maura fouled off the pitch.

Now, with her hands and face streaked with red, Jane is very aware that her one saving grace is that she booked the two of them for these particular batting cages instead of the better ones further out of the city. She prefers that location by a lot, despite the traffic on the drive, because the machines there are loaded with real softballs and she can use her good bat. But today Maura wanted to get dinner in town afterwards so it just made sense to stay in the city, and thank goodness they did. If Jane had been hit in the mouth with a real softball she surely would have loosened several teeth. As it stands, the dense foam balls that fill the machines at this location succeeded only in mashing the soft flesh of her mouth hard against her teeth. The inside of her cheek feels a little like ground chuck and her lower lip is split open near the edge of her mouth. Against the backdrop of Maura’s vocal dismay, Jane gathers up a fistful of her shirt and presses it to her lip to stem the bleeding.

“Oh god, Jane, don’t use your shirt.” Guilt is quickly replaced by exasperation, as if Jane being unsanitary about her injury has absolved Maura of her responsibility in causing it. Maura looks around and then over her shoulder. “There’s a first aid kit here, just give me a moment.”

Jane grunts, pulling her shirt away from her mouth to get a sense of how badly she’s still bleeding. The fresh patch of red isn’t overly concerning. She feels the need to spit again and so she does, another pink streaked pile of saliva joining the others on the ground just outside their batting cage. It seems a little less bloody than the first two and Jane takes some solace in that.

Jane realizes Maura has been missing too long for a retrieval of the nearest first aid kid. She looks around and spots the gangly teenager standing awkwardly by the door to the little booth where they checked in. The young man had repeatedly warned Jane that the rules of the facility prohibited two people from being in the same batting cage and had loudly protested when she stepped out past the glaring red safety line. He relented only when she’d flashed her badge at him, despite Maura’s insistence that she was sure that the rules existed for good reason.

Rather than looking smug about how clearly right he was, the teen looks terrified that Jane will lash out at him for her somewhat self-induced injury. There’s an open first aid kit on the counter behind him, clearly abandoned there when Maura found it lacking. He’s holding an ice pack but won’t approach.

Good.

Maura finally reappears. She’s holding an actual factual medical bag—not her work bag for crime scenes but the one she keeps in her car in case she should encounter a medical emergency involving the still-living. Like right now. Jane spots a clean t-shirt folded over Maura’s arm as well. She has her very serious doctor face on and the combination of that with the medical bag and the bright blue gym shorts would almost be funny if it weren’t instead absurdly hot. Maura exchanges a few quiet words with the terrified employee, takes the ice pack from him, then makes a beckoning gesture at Jane. The memory runs through Jane’s head again.

Yes, Coach.

Jane heaves herself up back to a standing position and trudges over towards Maura. Wordlessly, Maura hands Jane the ice pack then starts walking, and Jane presses it gingerly to her face. She follows after Maura, eyes falling down to those shorts again as she trails her into the ladies change room. Maura turns around just in time to catch Jane’s eyes making the return trip to eye level. Maura raises one eyebrow sky high. Yes, Coach.

Jane swallows hard, opens her mouth to explain herself (how is she going to explain herself?) but she gets distracted when she catches sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She blinks, drifts a few steps closer to the mirror and pulls away the ice pack to get a better look. While it’s quite dramatic, with blood both still wet and already dry, it’s not actually as bad as she thought it would be. She was expecting her face to be swollen or badly bruised and it’s not especially either. There’s definitely a faint, developing bruise along her cheek and her lip is a bit puffy but it’s altogether fairly tame. She feels a firm nudge against her arm and looks down to find the butt-end of a water bottle pressing against her bicep then back up to see Maura’s expectant face.

Yes, Coach.

“Rinse out your mouth, please.” Maura is still in doctor mode and using her doctor voice. It’s very clinical and no-nonsense and it shouldn't make Jane feel the way she does but it does and it has been. For years now.

When Jane takes the bottle and frees up her hand, Maura washes her hands in the other sink. Jane slowly unscrews the cap of her water bottle as she watches Maura’s reflection in the mirror and when Maura looks up, they lock eyes. Lately the escalation of their obvious chemistry has involved playing some kind of eye contact-based game of chicken and Jane has mostly been winning but not this time; Maura stares back with such confidence that Jane can feel her ears grow warm. She quickly looks down at her water bottle, ripping off the flimsy label like it might somehow interfere with her ability to use it. Maura makes a small, satisfied noise then busies herself with pulling what she needs out of her bag.

Jane brings the bottle to her lips and fills her mouth with water. She swishes it around with a sharp wince—blowing out her cheeks causes a dull stab of pain on the injured side of her face. She spits into the sink, making a yeugh noise when she sees the peachy-pink colour of the water. It looks like the liquid inside of a package of raw chicken breast. She does it again, less painful and less pink, and sighs with relief after she’s done. The third and final rinse-and-spit produces very little blood. Jane washes her hands of the blood and saliva that had dried on them.

“Good,” Maura says. “Now let me see that cut.”

Maura reaches for Jane’s lip with her hand, and Jane automatically stoops her head lower. It’s very gentle when Maura grasps Jane’s lower lip between two fingers, but Jane whimpers pathetically anyway. Maura rolls her eyes.

“Lean over the sink.”

Jane does.

Maura squirts saline solution all over the split lip then carefully inspects in. She flicks a glance up to Jane’s eyes before returning her focus to her lip.

“Considering how many times you shouted ‘keep your eyes on the ball’ at me today, it’s a little ironic that you took one right in the face.”

Jane scowls. “What, you expect me to catch it? I was only like six feet away.”

“You just seemed suddenly distracted, that’s all.” Maura’s tone is a little smug. She won this round and she knows it. She lets go of Jane’s lip, satisfied with her examination. She turns around to wash her hands in the sink again. “The split isn’t that bad actually. I thought it was going to be worse but I guess you’re just a bleeder.” Jane feels a bit insulted but she’s not quite sure how she can defend her coagulation abilities. She watches Maura wet a gauze pad under the faucet before she turns to face Jane again. The two women look at each other for a quiet, loaded moment before Maura reaches up to gently take Jane’s chin between thumb and forefinger.

“Hold still,” Maura says softly. Her expression has lost a little bit of its confidence and the air in the room has shifted. Both of them know that this has now taken a step beyond medical care and Maura is doing something for Jane that Jane could easily do for herself. It would probably even be better if she did it herself, but she doesn’t want to. Instead, she hunches even lower to make it easier for Maura as she carefully cleans the blood off Jane’s face. And maybe in order to be closer. Maybe it’s a bit of that too. Maybe she’s really enjoying how she can hear that Maura’s breathing has gotten a little shaky as she fastidiously wipes at Jane’s face, perhaps she likes being close enough that she could count Maura’s eyelashes if she wanted to.

“Maura?”

Jane’s voice is all raspy. She’s not trying to make it sound so deep but it always seems to happen this way. Her hands hang limply at her sides and she’s desperate for something to do with them so she places them lightly on Maura’s hips, holding her breath as she does.

“Hm?” Maura looks up into her eyes, her expression open and inquisitive, and anyone else would find her the picture of innocence. Jane knows better. Jane can feel the way her body has shifted just a little bit closer. Maura pulls the gauze away, unfolds it and refolds it so that the less soiled inside part is now on the outside, then dabs at Jane’s jawline.

“I was distracted,” Jane admits.

“Is that right?” Maura asks casually, still cleaning Jane up. “By what?”

Yes, Coach.

“By you,” Jane says. “By what you said.”

Jane presses her fingertips into the softness just below Maura’s hip bones. She’s not quite gripping her best friend’s ass but it’s awfully fucking close and Maura goes very still, the gauze pad in her hand now hovering over Jane’s neck. Jane’s thumbs start rubbing small circles over either side of Maura’s pelvis. Her voice drops an octave and this time she means for it to happen.

“I liked it.”

Maura looks at Jane askance, as if in mild disbelief that after all these months of beating around the bush it could be so easy. She wets her lips and carefully takes Jane in and Jane knows what Maura’s looking for. She’s looking for confirmation that this, now, finally is the moment. They both know this was always going to be Jane’s call to make—over the last few months Maura has walked right up the line but she was never going to be the one to cross it. And for Jane, for whatever reason, right now, injured, shirt ruined, recently embarrassed in front of a teenager and suddenly aware she might have a bit of a power dynamic kink (but somehow NOT about being a cop?), feels like the turning point.

Maura hesitates a moment, then asks: “When I called you coach?”

Jane turns red and her eyes go wild and that must be enough for Maura because the transformation is as immediate as it is complete. She tosses the gauze pad into the sink beside them and then her entire comportment changes, the prim posture of Doctor Isles is gone in an instant and replaced by a staggering sensuality. Maura practically melts between Jane’s hands, her movements feline as she closes the minimal distance between them and molds herself perfectly along the length of Jane’s body.

“I see,” Maura murmurs, her hands gliding up Jane’s arms.

Blood roars in Jane’s ears and Maura’s fingertips soon nestle in Jane’s hair, nails scratching against the nape of her neck. She grips her hair firmly and pulls Jane close, bringing her lips to Jane’s ear.

“Well, you’re a very good coach,” Maura coos and Jane shivers and groans. When Maura draws back the smile on her face is wicked and Jane hopes the expression on her own face isn’t as dopey as it feels.

Fuck.

Two seconds ago things were mostly all business and now Maura is throwing herself into this like it was the role she was born to play. One of her hands has abandoned its post in Jane’s hair to caress her jaw, fingertips skimming so tenderly along Jane’s cheek. She covers the split in Jane’s lip ever so lightly with the pad of her thumb and then presses her lips to the uninjured side of Jane’s mouth. Jane can feel the shuddering breath she releases bounce back against her face.

“We really should be icing this,” Maura says with a pout. Jane is about to protest—I’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt, I have literally never felt better—until she realizes that despite her words, Maura’s hand has tightened its grip in her hair and is slowly, purposefully pulling Jane’s head down into the crook of her neck.

“But I feel like you still have so many things to show me,” Maura purrs. “Coach.”

The word rockets through Jane’s body yet again, ricocheting off every erogenous zone and lighting Jane up like a pinball machine. She moans deep and latches on to Maura’s neck, sinking her teeth in as she seals her lips against the tender skin. It hurts. The cut on her lip stings at the pressure and when she sucks at Maura’s throat her mashed up cheek aches at the effort and absolutely none of that matters.

Maura inhales sharply as Jane sucks hard and it’s enough to cut through the fog in Jane’s head. She goes to pull back, suddenly cognizant of how wildly unprofessional it is to leave hickeys on any grown woman, let alone a doctor, let alone the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, but she can’t because Maura’s grip holds her firmly in place.

“No,” Maura hisses, her other hand coming up to assist in forcing Jane back down against her neck. “Do it. Please.”

Jane doesn’t need to be told twice and if anyone has a wardrobe big enough to hide a few marks for a while, it’s Maura. She restarts her onslaught on Maura’s neck, leaving a wake of bite marks and burst blood vessels all along the doctor’s gasping throat. She yanks Maura’s shirt down by the collar, lathing at her clavicle with a hard tongue before nipping at her with her teeth.

Maura whines and mewls through the rapid fire assault, her whole body writhing against Jane’s and after one particularly vicious bruise is left against her chest, she moans loudly.

“Oh fuck, Jane.”

Jane practically goes feral. Hearing that erudite voice reduced to cussing, those overeducated lips wrapping around her name in pleasure, it unleashes something. She hooks her hands just beneath the swell of Maura’s ass, waits precisely one second so Maura understands what’s about to happen, then lifts her up. Immediately, Maura’s bare, toned thighs wrap around her torso while her arms hook around the back of Jane’s neck.

Jane has thought about this a lot. A lot. She hadn’t actually been sure if she’s strong enough to hold Maura up but she is and thank god and it’s fucking amazing. She groans loudly, deeply pleased with herself and unashamedly turned on by her own strength, then pushes Maura roughly up against the lockers just off to the side of the sinks. They rattle like thunder in the small room and the debauched noise that Maura makes at the show of force makes Jane’s blood grow heavy with lust.

Deep in her heart Jane always knew there was going to be a first time, but she never imagined it like this. Her loss.

“Hold on tight,” Jane instructs, her forehead now pressed against the lockers right beside Maura’s head, trying to work one hand between their bodies.

“Of course, Coach,” Maura croons against her ear, thighs and arms tightening obediently around Jane. Jane curses, dragging out one very long fuuuck, Maur as her hand slips beneath the waistband of those goddamned shorts.

Maura is so wet. So much so that it makes precision difficult, but the desperate sounds coming out Maura suggest that precision is currently not required. Which, thank god, because Jane’s mostly working on instinct. So instead of slip-sliding as she tries to find purchase against Maura’s clit, Jane just rubs her whole fucking hand against the entire length of Maura’s slick cunt as best she can. Maura confirms loudly that yes, just like that, oh god, oh fuck and does her part too, grinding herself back into Jane’s palm as she holds on even tighter. Jane presses in tight, which limits her mobility but allows her to use her pelvis to push her hand hard against Maura, occasionally grinding herself onto her own knuckles as well. The metal of the locker behind Maura groans and pops with every thrust, making a strange symphony with the obscene, slippery sounds of their sex. Jane gasps and grunts and Maura is quickly, vocally approaching an orgasm.

Jane wishes she could watch Maura fall apart, but the position just isn’t going to work for that and Jane’s not about to stop. But Maura’s lips are right beside her ear and hearing it is just as good. Maura can clearly tell what this is doing to Jane and she’s laying it on thick for her.

“So good. You’re so good, Jane,” Maura breathes, licking her tongue against Jane’s ear. Her voice is broken, almost tormented, and it’s the most beautiful sound Jane has ever heard. “You’re fucking me so well. Finally—oh—took what was yours—god. I’m so close, Jane.”

Between Maura’s words and the intermittent friction she’s getting as she uses her body to force her hand against Maura’s cunt, Jane’s on the precipice as well. She fucks Maura even harder, and as much as she was enjoying the narration she likes it even more when Maura is reduced to nothing but a gasping, repeating ah, ah and soon Maura is spasming all around Jane’s palm, sobbing in Jane’s ear as it happens, rolling her hips messily, coating Jane’s whole hand until she’s slick well up past her wrist.

Jane’s own orgasm hits her when Maura’s at her peak and it’s nice, very nice, but it’s entirely an afterthought to the show Maura puts on.

In the aftermath, they remain where they are for a few moments, motionless apart from the heaving breaths they both require. Eventually, with a groan of discomfort rather than pleasure, Maura unlocks her stiff legs from around Jane’s waist and gingerly lowers them to the ground.

Jane is suddenly a little nervous. Contrary to what people might think, it was never the sex she was afraid of, it was the-what-happens-after that she often worried about. She draws her head back enough to be able to look Maura’s in the eyes.

Maura looks thoroughly fucked out. Her eyes are dark and glazed over with satisfaction, her hair a mess from where it was rubbing up against the lockers, Her neck littered with deep red marks. Her shirt has been stretched out at the neck and wrinkled and those royal blue gym short are not fit to be seen in public. She smirks up at Jane, but her devious expression fades into something more tender as she recognizes some vulnerability in Jane’s eyes. She lifts a hand to place it lightly against Jane’s injured cheek and coax her down.

“Come here,” Maura murmurs and Jane easily complies. The kiss is sweet and perhaps overly cautious of Jane’s injured lip given what they’d just gotten up to.

“That was wonderful,” Maura sighs against Jane’s lips and a lot of Jane’s concern melts away. “If perhaps a little unexpected.” Maura grins. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Jane’s eyes go wide. “Yeah, I mean… Did it not seem, uh…”

Maura laughs. “No, it did. I just… Maybe you thought it’d be a little more romantic the first time.” Maura’s expression has softened into something no one’s quite ready to say yet but any idiot could see. Jane’s chest heats up at her words, because ‘the first time’ implies a next time and that’s all she wants. “What’s more romantic than baseball?” Jane asks. “Hundreds of things,” Maura replies. “Possibly thousands. But I’m glad you think so.” She strokes Jane’s cheek lightly and then looks off to the side at the mirror. She sucks a sharp breath in between her teeth when she catches her reflection. She takes a moment to look down at herself and Jane watches as Maura’s cheeks redden when she shifts her thighs together.

Maura glances back up and Jane tries not to look too proud of what she’s done.

“Well. You’re definitely going to have to go to the car and get me the change of clothes I keep there.”

“And then?” Jane asks, fingertips playing with the hem of Maura’s shirt. Maura smiles serenely.

“And then,” she says, “we take this practice session back to my house, Coach.”

#rizzoli and isles #rizzles #rizzoli and isles fanfiction #rizzles fanfic #femslash #f/f fanfic #f/f #f/f romance #f/f smut #smut #based on true events #except i didn't get hit in the mouth #doomsdaydj fanfic

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blondiest · 4 months

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i know i’m gonna lose you (but god, i don’t want to)

rating: E | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 3.5k

a companion piece to it’s you and me, that’s my whole world

Near’s bedroom— her tidy little suite in her untidy little makeshift headquarters in a high-rise hotel in Tokyo— is lit only by the shine of the city and the glow of the moon. Because the moon is full and because the city is bright, Mello can see her perfectly. Every little hair on her arms and legs catch the light as she sheds her soft, simple bra. The only thing Mello has taken off so far are her gloves. ---- In which Mello rings in 2010 with some good old-fashioned lesbian sex and a minor emotional crisis.

#yes this was supposed to be 500 words. what is your point.#meronia #mello death note #mihael keehl #near death note #nate river #mellonear #death note #<- i'm subjecting everyone to the smut prequel no one asked for to my femslash flop fic #xoxo. losergirl <3 #I'M GOING TO SLEEP NOW ILY ALL #ARRIVEDERCH!!!

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cilil · 25 days

Note

For screw yule...

Dangerous illusion with Nerdë and Nienna? 😇

Screw Yule

⃤ Prompt: Dangerous Illusion & mutual masturbation (rare pair bingo) | Nerdanel x Nienna ⃤ Synopsis: When something strange appears in Nerdanel's dreams, Nienna steps in to protect and take care of her. ⃤ Warnings: Dream sex, fingering ⃤ Oneshot (~1.1k) ⃤ AO3

When Fëanáro smiled at her, it was such a beautiful sight that Nerdanel forgot all about her anger.

"Nerdë..."

Her fists unclenched, and she wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them and run her open palms up and down his entire body.

"Nerdë, you know I love you still."

Nerdanel nodded, smiling back with tears in her eyes. She knew, or at least she had hoped.

Fëanáro's bright, pleading eyes beckoned her closer, and she took a step forward; something within her hesitated, a last shred of resistance as if an inner voice was trying to warn her, yet she didn't know why she felt that way.

"Nerdë, my love, I miss you so much. Come to me." He was pleading now and holding out his hand. "Our sons need you. I need you."

"Fëanáro..."

Nerdanel didn't know how to respond. Was he asking her to join him across the sea? But had he himself not destroyed the ships that would allow her to do so? Would the Valar stop her from going if she tried? And was their love still so strong that he could speak to her from afar?

Yet before she could reach him, the image of her husband blurred and twisted. It seemed as though he was being blown away by invisible, imperceptible wind, first flickering like the dying flame of a candle, then vanishing into nothing.

"Fëanáro?"

"Nerdanel..."

A different voice answered in his place, gentle and undoubtedly female, and Nerdanel turned to see Nienna standing nearby.

"What happened? What is this? Why are you here?" she asked, sharper than she had intended.

The Lady of Mercy was hardly to blame for her misery and shameful longing, after all.

"I am not typically in the habit of visiting the dreams of others," Nienna said, "but my little brother feels as though something or someone that doesn't belong here has been trying to sway your heart and mind."

"So this... was not Fëanáro?" Nerdanel tried but failed to banish the disappointment from her mien.

Perhaps, she wondered silently, her dreams made it even harder to keep up the facade she had so carefully and stubbornly crafted, especially when she faced the sister of the Fëanturi.

"I am afraid not," Nienna said. "You have seen... him in your dreams before though, right?"

"All the time." Nerdanel let out a wistful chuckle. "A lot after we first met, occasionally while we were together and many more times after he left. I take it none of them were as meaningful as I thought them to be?"

Nienna shook her head. "Most dreams are just dreams, dear one, and when the mind is asleep, it can no longer stop the heart from longing. Maybe it was that, maybe he did at some point try to reach out. But..."

Her mien darkened. "While I may not reveal what my brothers have shared with me nor the secrets of the fëar that we keep, I can tell you that whatever is urging you to come seek your husband is not him. Come."

She walked towards the former queen and placed an arm around her shoulder, guiding her away from where the spectre of Fëanáro had called out to her. Nerdanel glanced over her shoulder, wistful but accepting what the Valië had said, and leaned into her embrace as they went. Nienna, even though her touch was incorporeal, was warm and smelled like tea leaves and fresh blankets.

"I know I will see these things again," Nerdanel admitted to her then. "I am lonely at night and desire the companionship of another, but to those around me I am nothing but the unfortunate wife of a mad king."

"I understand," Nienna said, gently rubbing her back as they went.

Nerdanel was embarrassed when she noticed how such a small touch had become enough to send a warm shiver through her; and unfortunately for her wounded pride, the Valië had noticed as well.

"You know I would never say no if you asked me to take care of you," Nienna smiled.

"You know I would never ask such a thing," Nerdanel sighed.

"I do. But there is no shame in it, that much I will say."

Nienna stopped walking and cupped Nerdanel's cheek with her free hand to tenderly tilt her head upwards.

"Let me not leave you with gloomy thoughts. Let me put something more pleasant on your mind before I go, and then you may decide whether you desire more of this when you wake."

There was the faintest hint of urgency within the Valië's voice, and her soothing presence suddenly seemed like the most beautiful thing Nerdanel had ever seen. Inexorably drawn in, tempted by the warmth and closeness of another, she gave a small nod of assent and was rewarded with a slow, sensual kiss.

Her surroundings shifted. Suddenly she saw herself on her bed with Nienna, nude and entangled in a passionate embrace. Their kiss continued, but their hands moved as well, shamelessly exploring one another like lovers did, the same tentative, exciting touches she remembered from her youth.

Nerdanel wanted more. When Nienna finally moved her hand between her legs, she mirrored the gesture, penetrating her without hesitation just as she herself was.

It had been too long. It felt so good to welcome the warmth of another inside her, to seek a partner's pleasure as they sought hers.

The vision lasted but a moment, yet to Nerdanel it seemed as though she had drunk from the fountain of Nienna's love for hours only to be left thirsty still.

"My lady," she whispered, urgent and pleading. Her fingers clutched the Valië's robe with unusual intensity when the dream began to dissolve, her body awakened by the intensity of her desire.

Nienna didn't appear to mind the almost demanding gesture, smiling at Nerdanel. "I would love to be in your masterful hands," she said. "And you know where to find me if you wish the same."

Nerdanel felt her very core aching when she awoke, tense and twisted from the sheer need for relief. There was no time for shame and reservations, only the insurmountable temptation to grant herself just that. Trembling yet unerring in her pursuit of her pleasure, she touched herself until the knot inside her finally came undone and her entire body went limp with comfortable exhaustion and relaxation.

Little did she know that, somewhere else in the Blessed Lands, the Lady of Mercy had done the same.

Thanks for reading! ♡

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