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e1dritchjackal0pe · 4 months

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𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕭𝖊𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑

Summary: After your night with Farleigh, you wake in the morning to deal with the new, altered state of your relationship. You know for certain that you want more with him, but you have no idea if he wishes the same.

Warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI. AFAB, usage of 'good girl' . Sex in front of a mirror, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering. A bit of fluff. American reader. Not proofread.

Notes: 12.1k words. This probably won't make sense if you haven't read the first part. A big shout out for those of you who commented on the first part of this. Ya'll really slutted me out with all of the compliments and motivated me to write this second bit. Banner by @saradika-graphics

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦 - 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦

Everything is warm. Cozy and inviting with a soothing, syrupy kind of heat that saps into your bones and flesh. You don't want to move. The possibility of having to seems like the worse possible inconvenience that you could even face. Your mind is slow to gather itself, caught up within the hazy drag of sleep, reluctant to wake up - outright fighting of the surge of consciousness, in fact. And irritably, you wonder why you're gradually being pulled from the dredges of slumber. Why the comforting threads entangling you is beginning to slip. What could possibly be waking you up right now?

And that's when your hazed over brain notices that band of light glaring into your eyes; bright and tinged orange from behind your eyelids. It's awful. Horrible even. Where is the light even coming from? You never leave your lamp on, and you always make sure to draw your curtains shut every night before sleep.

But despite your curiosity, you can't bring yourself to open your eyes. You know that it'll be game over if you do. There's no way that you'll be able to fall back asleep once you get up to check the origin of that offensive glow. But you can't fight the low, tired groan that erupts from your chest in annoyance while you blindly grab at the comforter snuggled around you, sliding it up higher until it's draped over your face and blocking out the light.

The relief is immediate, and you find yourself shifting in an attempt to burrow yourself deeper into the plush support of the mattress, breathing in a satisfied, deep drag of air. Taking a lungful of something sweet and earthy with hints of something spicy too. It's familiar; comforting and it has you subconsciously drawing in another breath. It smells like Farleigh, you think contentedly.

That does have you perking up a bit. Some small part of you becoming hideously awake, like it's trying to remember something that you've forgotten. But you're still actively fighting off the urge get up. You just aren't ready for it. There's some tension in your skull and your mouth feels dry and dehydrated. It's not the worse hangover you've ever had. But then again, the one that you had woken up to on the night after graduation had been near crippling. Honestly, you hadn't thought that you were ever going to survive it. It felt like someone was striking down on your skull with a hammer, trying to split it down the middle. This one was more than manageable, nothing a glass of water and an aspirin couldn't clear up.

But even then, the urge to get up out of bed to shuffle around in the bathroom was less than thrilling.

You shift around again, rolling from your back and onto your side, hoping that maybe this position will actually help you in falling asleep again. But you pause when you feel your knee brush against something firm and warm. And a curious nudge from your foot has you coming to the realization that you're prodding at another leg. Someone else's leg.

It makes your stomach jolt, and the shot of adrenalin combined with the cloud of sleep still seeped across your mind has you squirming in place, while your arms jerk uselessly. It feels like minutes have passed before you're clumsily tossing the blanket from over your head and propping yourself up to look at whoever is lying across from you.

It's the head of dark curls that you notice first before your gaze lowers, tracing over a pair of closed eye lashes and the set of a familiar pout peeking out from the cocoon of the comforter. It has your brain chugging along sluggishly while it scrambles to catch up. And then last night is rushing towards you in waves. Of running into Farleigh, your shared whispered confessions up on the balcony, and the fervent, relieved fucking that came after it.

Heat prickles at your skin at the memories. Of the desperate, broken moans that had left his shuddering chest, the feel of his writhing body underneath your thighs, how he had pressed his face between the apex of your legs and -

Nope, not right now. The last thing you need to be is hungover and horny.

But that was right, you weren't in your room. He had invited you to spend the night with him afterwards. It had been sweet, and domestic. The two of you had spent the first twenty minutes just soaking in the bath together. And a decent majority of it had been the both of you just leaning into each other. The actual bathing that you had done had been somewhat rushed and done out of necessity so that you could spend the rest of your time leaning against the cradle of his chest. Enjoying the feel of skin-on-skin contact and the other's presence. You stayed in the water until it had gone cool, and the only source of heat was coming from your bodies. And even then, you both were reluctant to leave the tub, basking in conversation and gossip, catching up on the few years where you had never really allowed yourselves to just talk to each other.

And once the water became too chilled to bear you were quick to get out of the tub and slip into the comfort of his bed. He had been quick to tug you into his arms once you were settled down underneath the blankets. He was practically glued to you since your entanglement on the balcony - not that you were complaining.

You had all but melted against him for the entire night, laughing and scolding him with no real scorn whenever he had judged or quipped at the movie you were watching in between the kisses he was scattering across your neck. It was disgustingly soft, and light years away from anything you ever imagined yourself doing with Farleigh. If you had told the past version of yourself from yesterday morning that you would be lying his bed and actually enjoying - wanting - to be near him, you would have scoffed. You would have passionately denied the sheer possibility of it.

But now here you are, admiring the way that he looks underneath the soft pale champagne glow of the morning sunlight with nothing but fondness in your chest. He looks peaceful like this. Relaxed. It's somewhat strange to be able to see him like this. All vulnerable and soft while he's unable to dish out sarcasm and insults.

"I can feel you staring, you weirdo," he speaks suddenly without opening his eyes. His voice is low and a little raspy from sleep, and the way that it affects you is entirely unfair. A full body shiver runs down the notches of your spine at the smoky quality to it and you try to subtly shift to hide it, but something tells you that he may have noticed with the smirk that's begun to perk at the corner of his lips.

"Admiring, " you correct, and you shuffle onto your back like you're lifting yourself to get out of the bed, shrugging the blankets off. "But if you don't like it then I can just leave."

He moves way too quickly for someone who just woke up, slipping his arms around your middle and tugging you back into the warmth of the comforter. But you don't put up any semblance of a fight. You let him take you and you can't hold in the laugh that breaks from your chest when he settles you with your back pressed against him, keeping you trapped with the strength of his hold.

"You're not allowed to leave, " he grumbles pettishly. It's so different from all of the interactions that you two usually share and a part of you still hasn't caught up to the sudden shift in your dynamic. You feel just as lost as you do happy, but as much as you'd like to start firing off questions you still can't bring yourself to. Not yet at least. And luckily Farleigh is speaking, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Why are you awake so early?"

"Because someone has very thin curtains that he decided to leave open," you grouse with no real bite.

He tucks his chin over the crown of your head and hums tiredly. You can feel that way that his abdomen vibrates against your back with the sound. The heat radiating from his bare skin is soaking into yours from the barrier of your borrowed shirt, and combined with the scent of his body wash and the left-over remnants of his cologne it has the temptation of sleep beginning to weigh down your limbs. "You could have closed them."

"Hmm . . . I'm kinda glad I didn't," you admit, snuggling back into his chest as much as you can. "You're so pretty when you're sleeping, and your face isn't all twisted up in a scowl."

The reprimanding bite that he nips at the junction of your neck catches you off guard, making you jolt with a small, surprised yelp. You can't find it in yourself to even mildly irritated, but you kick at his shin regardless in a playful warning of your own.

"I'm always pretty," he scolds.

Then a silence falls across the room. Not uncomfortable but still. Peaceful and light, and the buttery summer breeze pouring from the open window just amplifies the sense of calm. And you smell the dulcet, earthy scent of pollen and fresh morning dew on the air. There's a bird singing from somewhere outside, declaring the rise of the early sun in a gentle coo. And for a moment, it almost sounds like a mourning dove.

You just allow yourself to relax and lounge in the tranquility of the moment. Idly scanning the contents of his room from the comfort of his bed. Glancing over at the shelf in the corner, stocked full of novels; everything from old literary classics like The Portrait of Dorian Gray, Dracula, The Great Gatsby, a couple of books on mythology, a few Harry Potter novels and you even spy what also seems to be a copy of one of the Sex and the City stories. A few of shirts were discarded in the corner near a small laundry basket like he had thrown them and missed, forgotten on the floor.

And it suddenly strikes you that this is the first time that you've actually been inside of Farleigh's room. You've gotten glimpses of it of course, typically during brief confrontations while standing in his doorway. Usually, when Felix or Elspeth would send you to his door in their stead to retrieve him or remind him of a mandatory affair. And it's a reminder of the step that you had taken last night. The way that you both had singlehandedly altered the trajectory of your relationship with each other.

Not even the uncertainty in your gut is enough to disrupt the ease in your bones. But is still there. Unignorable. It isn't awkward or uncomfortable, but it is foreign. This entire situation is new and fragile. The ground that you're treading is something that you've never even grown close to traversing with Farleigh, and with it there is a sense of something delicate and brand new, like eggshells. And a part of you is worried that if you handle it too harshly that it might break.

But you know that despite your hesitance that a conversation needs to be had. Boundaries and intentions need to be laid bare and the more you hold it off the more confused and distressed you're going to become.

"Farleigh?" You say softly, and for a moment you think that he's fallen asleep again, but then a questioning hum is purring out into the air in response; you feel it more than you hear it.

And now there it is. That awful nervousness fluttering at your gut like a ball of panicked, nauseating butterflies. "What are we exactly?" You nearly wince when you ask it. The dryness in your throat doesn't help anything, and your words nearly catch on their way out. "I know we were both drinking and partying last night, so I just want to make sure that we're both on the same page. That I'm not . . . assuming anything."

There's another bout of silence. But this time it is distressing, and you wish that he'd just speak. Even if it's just to reject you or say that last night was just a one-time thing. At least, it would be ripping the band aid off. Setting a boundary and cutting you off. As much as it would hurt it would give you closure and let you move on to pretend that it never happened. It would be awkward, tiptoeing around the estate and pretending as though last night - this morning, didn't take place - a beautiful, haunting dream - but you could do it. You would have to. You could still fake all of those old glares and scathing remarks if it meant that a sense of normalcy would remain intact. You could pretend to forget all of his soft touches, and the way that he had called you gorgeous. How he had held your gaze and looked at you like you had hung the moon up into the night sky. You could forget all of it, you swear you could.

But it's just quiet, and the anticipation is killing you. Letting you choke on your own worry.

Farleigh shuffles back from you and for one terrifying moment you think that he's leaving the bed, too irritated or indifferent to even try and have this talk with you. But instead, he's softly nudging your arm to guide you to twist around onto your opposite side; making you face him.

There's something gentle is his eyes, something vulnerable too. And it makes you hopeful that he feels the same way as you do.

"Well . . . " He starts but then a pause takes over like he's trying to collect himself and find the proper words. You can feel the way that you subconsciously begin to clam up, seizing and waiting to be torn down and told the ugly truth. You brace waiting to have to put on a fake smile and nod before you have to slip from his bed and head to your room in a walk of shame with rejection stabbing inside your chest like glass shards.

"I was hoping that you'd be my girlfriend."

The relief that floods through you nearly makes you breathless. And for a moment you think that this is what it feels like to be engulfed in the sun; swaddled in a warmth that reminds you of the nostalgia of a fond, distant memory. It's the joy of a day free at the beach, the repose that comes after holding your breath for a long stretch of time, the exhilaration from finding the answer to a mystery that's eluded you for years. But you can't articulate any of that, can't find a single word that properly conveys your emotions while under the cloud of sleep.

"Okay," it isn't an eloquent response, by any means. Even just saying 'yes' probably would have read better. But that didn't mean that it wasn't said with any less intensity and enthusiasm. And you can tell that Farleigh must be able to pick up on the true scope of your emotions bleeding through because he doesn't look offended or disappointed. But his eyebrows do lift as he levels you with a look that's purely amused and a little happy.

"Okay?" He echos with a light chuckle.

"Okay, " you reaffirm, sliding closer until your noses touch. "I'd love to be your girlfriend."

The look in his eyes is soft and relaxed, and they're shimmering lightly in the morning glow with hints of amber and a rich brown. And then he's peppering kisses across your face like he's mapping out your features with his lips, trailing them across your forehead and cheekbones and jawline. It's unrushed and slow, like you both have all of the time in the world. Like the sun is permanently fixed in the lavender horizon and isn't due to rise up and give way to a full day. But here and now, it's just you and him, curled up in the covers and one another.

It's still so strange to be the object of his affections. It's a complete one-eighty from the way that you've interacted for years. Sure, now that you've had your little epiphany last night, you've been able to realize (and come to terms with the fact) that there's always been a kind of attraction and even fondness brewing underneath every one of your little spats and encounters. But never would have thought that you could say that that want, and affection went both ways. That there had ever been anything thing other than animosity and annoyance on his end.

"What are you thinking about?" Farleigh ask, nuzzling against your cheek to get your attention before he pulls away to hold your gaze.

"I guess, I'm just a little surprised, is all." You admit, though it is a little cryptic. "I just never got the impression that you liked me all that much."

Something in his expression sobers, and for a moment you worry that you've said something wrong. That you've accidentally nudged something that he wasn't ready to disclose.

"That was the point," he confesses, making your eyebrows pinch in confusion. "Of all of the teasing and fighting. For the most part." He pulls back, settling back against the bed and you settle on the flat of your stomach, supporting yourself on your elbows to observe him easier. "Though, I do just genuinely enjoy teasing you. You always get that cute little furrow, right here whenever I do."

He lightly pokes at the point between your eyes with a smirk. And you swat at his hand, playful and relaxed before his features smooth back into that serious look. You can tell that he's briefly deflecting, trying to drag his explanation out more than it needs to be, and as much as your curiosity is burning at you like a hot ember, you don't make any means to rush him. His gaze skitters around the room with something akin to defeat and exasperation while he tussles with whatever conflict is warring around inside of him.

Your fingers hesitantly reach for his own, clasping lightly just in case he wants to pull away, and you take it as good sign when he doesn't. Instead, he's threading your fingers together and squeezing, stroking at your knuckles with his thumb. "Felix, " he says suddenly with something like a grimace. "They always pick Felix. The golden boy. And I thought, 'why even try?' "

The clarification is a little vague and scattered. But you're still able to piece together a mental timeline with the little bits and pieces that he's given. And it finally answers the question as to why your otherwise cordial relationship with Farleigh had seemed to take an abrupt nosedive after Felix's visit to the States all those years ago. Why your interactions went from playful to subtly meanspirited. He was jealous. Envious of his cousin all because he had assumed that you had a crush on or would eventually develop a crush for Felix.

Sure, you weren't blind. Felix, for all intents and purposes was an attractive guy. And he's has always been a dear friend to you, protective and caring but you can genuinely say that your feelings for Felix had never developed past the platonic sense. Not even out of curiosity.

And it is a little aggravating to know that all the years of animosity between you and Farleigh was because he wasn't able to sit you down and have a conversation with you. That he had decided to act like a middle school boy who tugs on the pig tails of the girl that he likes because he can't properly convey his feelings. But you also know that that assessment isn't fully fair either. You're aware of the fragile standing that Farleigh has with the Catton's - his own family, and that he no doubt, often feels like a guest in a home that should be considered his just as much as it's his cousins.

And Felix, whether he realizes it or not, has always been able to achieve and get whatever - or whoever he wants. Usually, from his family's social or financial standing. And so, it wouldn't be the wild for him to assume that you'd be attracted to all of those things too. Especially, considering that you yourself, like many people, don't come from a wealthy family. It's a part of human nature, to gravitate towards the things you can't have. To try and see what life is like on the other side, where you're hand fed from a silver spoon and your every whim can be taken care of by an everlasting stash of money. So, Farleigh's insecurities weren't unfounded by any means, but regardless, it did still hurt to some degree that he felt like wasn't able to just talk to you about the way that he had felt. About the emotions that he had silently been harboring for all of this time.

"I really did try to hate you. " And when he looks at you his expression is naked and honest. " I tried to push you away, but it didn't work. It never worked."

He looks vulnerable. Like he's waiting for you to get angry or irritated and he's bracing for an argument. But you don't even contemplate doing anything even close to that. Instead, you're scooting yourself up on your knees to gently swing yourself across his lap, and he welcomes you by gripping onto your hips. You can't feel his skin directly. Not while you're both wearing a pair of boxers (he had lent you one of his to wear for bed last night) but you could still feel the heat of him against underneath you. And it serves to ground you all the same, pulling you into the moment and holding you here. And you take comfort in the sensation of his body against yours.

"I've never hated you either, " you say, swallowing around the nervousness in your throat. " I thought I did. But I don't think I ever really could, not even back then. I'm mean don't get me wrong, you were arrogant, and rude and some days you made me want to slam my head into a wall . . . But I never hated you."

There's something akin to relief in his eyes; hopeful and soft. And then he's saying two words that you thought you'd never expect to hear coming from him.

"I'm sorry."

It takes a moment for your mind to even register what he had said. But once the apology clicks into place, it has something fuzzy and warm growing in your chest, and you couldn't hide the soft smile pulling at your lips. It's bittersweet. You're remorseful for all the time lost between you but you can't even bother to dwell on it for too long, not now. Not with him gazing up at you, hopeful and waiting.

And the truth is, is that you weren't entirely blameless, either. Yes, Farleigh had been the one to initiate the friction and enmity between you, but you were also quick to respond in kind. Instead of even trying to take the high road and figuring out the root of his animosity, you were quick to jump on the offensive. Forgoing any ideas of reconciling in the desire to try and get even. You just gave it all up, the months' worth of a gradually cultivated fellowship in the trade of trying to tear him down like he had done to you.

"I'm sorry, too," you say truthfully. And the last bits of that tense, worried energy that had been tainting the air finally vanishes, carried off on the gentle breeze pouring through the window and out into the courtyard. Its absence welcomes back the playfulness that had been present earlier. "But if we're being honest, I've always enjoyed our little fights."

The way that he grins in response is the kind that would have concerned you at one time (only just a few hours ago - Jesus, you can hardly believe it still), all cocky and entirely too satisfied. "I know, I clocked that from the very start."

You can't resist the urge to roll your eyes, and there's a retort on the tip of your tongue, ready to tease him back but instead your mind decides to take a detour and it swerves back around to a different train of thought completely. Making you pause in place, lips slightly parted with the preparation to speak but the initial remark is gone. Leaving to assess your new realization with a bit of confused wonder. The realization that you didn't become acquaintances with Felix until months after knowing Farleigh. And that would mean that he caught feelings before- "Wait, " you pause, squinting at Farleigh questioningly. "You said that you weren't going to even try because of Felix. Then when did you . . ?"

He sighs lowly, stroking your thighs in a way that seems more absentminded than intentional, like his brain needs a distraction. "The first day that we met there's was something there. It was small. Intrigue, mostly. I didn't think it would go anywhere, and for a little while it didn't." It's matter of fact, not meant to be rude or harmful, just honest. "There wasn't some pivotal moment that changed things. I don't have a specific date to give you; all those feelings were suddenly just there, and I didn't know what to do with them."

It was the same way for you, you suppose. It wasn't like in the movies where the protagonist shares one defining moment with their love interest that just abruptly opens their eyes to their newfound affection and they immediately fall in love. The build up to your feelings had simmered and climbed up over time. It just sort of snuck up on you so stealthily that you hadn't even recognized that you had them. And even worse, your own hubris had kept you from even acknowledging the little shreds of emotions that managed to sneak by and slip under the radar. You always had an excuse for yourself.

That fuzzy, tingling feeling that would bubble in the pit of your gut whenever you had seen Farleigh smile back in the past, candid and genuine, that wasn't affection, that was disgust, surely. That searing burn that would scatter across your flesh when someone would lean up against his side and openly flirt with him, coquette and unabashed, it was just your irritation for him, not jealously.

Your emotions had always been there. Right under the surface and raging, but you had never let yourself see. Had never let yourself indulge. You were so out of touch with them, that honestly, you wouldn't be able to track whenever they had begun to manifest. It could have been from day one for all you know. And maybe it was. Right on that April evening, during the middle of a heatwave that had come in and choked out the otherwise agreeable spring air. The sun had the city in a violent grip, beating down on the concrete and asphalt until it was sweltering. And in an attempt to escape the unbearable temperatures, you and Graham, like many of the other tenants, had taken to the crystal waters of the pool to cool off. And when Graham had asked you if one of his friends could swing by, you had no qualms on the matter. You were honestly intrigued, considering that the said friend was apparently the mysterious Farleigh, who Graham had grown to be quite fond off, with the both of them having met from running with similar crowds. Socializers and party goers.

When Farleigh had showed up to the pool, you hadn't missed the somewhat disgruntled way that his lip had curled while he eyed all of the people splashing about in the water as he followed Graham over to your seats on the poolside. Like they had offended him by being there. But you could only find yourself being amused by his apparent dislike for the public, and when he had neared you were quick to sit up in your lounger, lifting your sunglasses from your eyes and onto your head to assess him better.

"You must be the famed Farleigh," you had greeted before extending your hand for him to take, introducing yourself with a smile.

"That would be me," he had replied, laying back on the chaise beside yours like he had always been there; relaxed and unbothered. Like he had known you forever. "But 'famed,' huh? Does he talk about me often?"

"Enough for me to be intrigued." You admitted, folding the corner page of the book you had been reading in a dog-eared marker before shutting it closed so that you could freely turn your focus onto him instead.

"And what has he told you about me?" He asked.

Your lips lifted, and for a moment you glanced around the pool, observing the colorful array of plastic floaties and limbs playfully kicking up water. "That you're trouble."

But it was told without any bite, your tone airy and impish. He didn't necessarily return your smile, but there was a kind of mirth glinting in his eyes. Intrigue as well. He let himself relax into the cradle of the chair without removing his gaze from yours, and you could see his open amusement. And somewhere in the near distance a child squealed in open delight and the laughter of their parent closely followed, but neither of you had so much as glanced away from each other.

"So, he told you the truth." That had been his response.

Charming, that had been your first thought of him. And it was one without ire or sarcasm. It was the truth. He had been charming then, and the both of you had spent a good twenty minutes talking to each other after your introduction. Divulging in common interest and gossip. Mostly from you sharing the scandals of your fellow tenants, like how your neighbor from 2E had been cheating on her boyfriend with the guy from 1F or how the elderly woman from down your hall had traded her husband's ashes for a pound of weed.

But regardless of when your feelings for Farleigh had begun, it didn't change the fact that you were so ignorant and blind, that literally everyone else had taken notice of your attraction before you had. And all of the teasing from Venetia, and Felix, and even Graham hadn't been enough to make you recognize them.

"And then one day, I couldn't stop thinking about you. " He admits. There's an intensity in his gaze, and that open vulnerability is still in there too. It threatens to steal your breath, and you have to force yourself to inhale. But it just makes you take the scent of his shampoo; the fresh, delicate fragrance of the detergent and his cologne on his sheets and it just makes the warm haze seeping back into you so much worse. "With your thrifted sweatshirts and bitchy attitude."

"Oh, I'm the bitchy one?"

You aren't sure what changes it. What causes the shift. If perhaps it had just been there the entire time and you had been too preoccupied to notice it with your thoughts and heart to heart conversation. Or if maybe it was just from the way that he's looking at you now. With an unmistakable type of want. With a sultry type of need that's hauntingly similar to the fervor that had glinted in his eyes just last night. And the feel of his heated palms gripping your thighs and the pressure of his lap nestled between your legs doesn't make it any easier. But the low heat rising in the room seems to amplify the desire that's beginning to storm inside of you, building up from the sun that's ascended a few more degrees into the morning sky. And combined with the light golden hue casted over the bed, it makes you feel as though you're being incased in a vat of heated honey. Saccharine, hazy and torrid.

You have to chase after that feeling. Following after it like a flower tracking the suns path across the sky and it leads you to Farleigh. Making you tilt down towards him like it's your purpose, brushing your lips over his and breathing in his air. And all the while you don't break eye contact once. You couldn't. You won't.

The hold of his finger's flexes on you, like he's trying to ground himself. His anticipation almost seems like a physical thing; like it's brushing up against your body and hanging heavy in the air. And it could be your mind playing tricks on you, but you're certain that he's stopped breathing while he eagerly waits for you to do something.

It has you lifting a hand up to cup his face, delicate and almost devout in the way that you press your palm against his cheek and his eyelashes nearly flutter from the contact. He looks content like this. No doubt still a little addled from the sleep that's probably still clinging to his brain. But the way that he appears to be so peaceful and fulfilled with something as little as your touch has this insatiable thing growing inside of you, and it feels as though it could grow a will of its own and possess you. The weight of it would have scared you once, if you weren't already so utterly swept up in it.

You can't help but to trace his skin, idly sweeping your thumb across the jut of his cheekbone before dragging it down the fullness of his bottom lip. And it surprises you entirely when he drops his jaw open to take the digit into his mouth. You have to hold back a gasp at the sensation of his tongue brushing over your skin and sucking. And the impish gleam in his eyes almost seems like some kind of dare. Like he wants you to make a move.

You just press your thumb into his mouth with a bit more pressure and the delicate, airy sigh that leaves him is a reward all in its own. The glide of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, the way that he's looking at you, it's all so blissfully overwhelming. You wish that you could just stay here indefinitely, under the cover of the blankets with his body against your own.

But . . .

"You're a brat." That's all you say before you extract your digit from between his lips and swing yourself from his hips to climb off the bed. You have to glance over your shoulder when a surprised "what the fuck?" rises out from behind you as you pad over towards the open doorway of the adjacent bathroom. And the outright pouty and exasperated way that Farleigh rolls over onto his stomach and slams his face into the plush of one of his pillows is the last thing you see of him once you cross the threshold, and you can't fight the amused chuckle that leaves your chest.

You can hear him grumble something, but it's inaudible from your place at the sink, muffled by the walls and distance. You try to ignore those torrential, gushing emotions that are rising up inside your chest but it's hard to fight the smile on your face, and the sight of your reflection in the mirror is humbling almost. You're beaming and your eyes are sparkling with an unhidden mirth. God, you look like a lovestruck idiot. You can hardly recognize yourself like this, but as completely taken as you are by your feelings you can't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed by them. It feels good to just embrace them after years of fighting and lying to yourself. And you finally feel at peace.

It's like relief, being here with him. By wearing his clothes and spending the night in his bed. The toothbrush that you're using was one of his spares. It had still been tucked away in the rigid plastic and cardboard of its packaging when he had let you use it last night. He had been the one to suggest that you take it when you had been fully prepared to swing by the neighboring bathroom near your bedroom to collect you own. But he had told you that you didn't need to bother. That you could just take one of his. And after you had used it, you had placed it in the caddy beside his own for the night. They were all such small things. Tiny minute gestures but they made you feel so wholly wanted.

When you lean over to spit out the frothy toothpaste into the basin of the sink a pair of arms slip around your middle and press you into the expanse of his front. He hooks his chin over your shoulder to look at you from the reflection of the mirror and you struggle not to make eye contact with him as your rinse the bristles of the brush off underneath the tap.

"Come back to bed," he says, nuzzling his face into the junction of your neck. "Breakfast isn't for almost another two hours."

You just hum in response, tapping your toothbrush dry on the edge of the sink before plopping it back into its place in the caddy. "I will, " you promise. "Do you have anything for headaches? I have a little bit of a hangover."

"Bottom drawer on the left," he directs, and slackens his hold on you for you to slip free. You crouch down to slide the drawer open and rove your eyes over the contents before you single out the white safety lid of a bottle of ibuprofen. Once you have it, you're opening it eagerly and plucking a tablet into the palm of your hand. The throbbing in your skull is still dull, more of an annoyance really. But regardless you're still more than relieved to get something to finally knock it out.

You drop the sealed bottle back into its place before nudging the door closed with your leg as you rise to stand, and you put the bitter, acrid pill on your tongue. Farleigh is already in the process of brushing his own teeth, and instead of shuffling over to the opposing sink, you're leaning over into Farleigh's space and cupping a bit of water streaming from the tap into your palm to drink up; using it to wash down the tablet.

He doesn't look peeved in the slightest though, that he has to shift back just a bit on his feet to allow you closer as you toss the pill down. Instead, there's an amused smile on his lips while he watches you. Though you're too busy roving your eyes over your own features to notice, and you can't help the slight exasperation that shows when you spot a few fine pieces of glitter that are still stubbornly clinging to your skin; glinting from your collar bone and the ridge of your left cheek. You'll probably be finding remnants of it for weeks at this rate, in your hair and on your clothes.

Though you suppose that you can't be all that mad about it, with the way that it serves to be a reminder of last night. Of the balmy satin breeze and the pleased moans that it had carried. You can already feel your body thrumming in response and the depth of your reverie keeps you from noticing that he had finished brushing his teeth and had placed his brush in the caddy until you see his reflection shuffling around and he's suddenly standing behind you, securing his arms around your waist once again.

You all but melt back against him with a happy hum under your breath. It still surprises you a bit, the way that he seeks you and your affection out and clings to you. Though, you suppose that it really shouldn't be all that much of a shock. He has always been a very physical sort of person, even with those that he has a platonic relationship with. Even in the past, he always seemed to have someone touching him, whether it be by having a person clinging to arm, or sitting in his lap, he was always sharing his space in some kind of way. So, it isn't that farfetched that he'd crave physical intimacy in a relationship just as much. And you're all too eager and willing to fulfill that want.

Though you suppose that the surprise still comes from how new and raw this all still is. You've had your dynamic solidified with Farleigh for years. And it persisted that way, unshifting and constant until it had been swiftly uprooted and altered by a simple exchange of words. And a part of you still has yet to come to terms with it yet. That you're here with him and so completely, and wholly content. That you're happy with the person who had made it his mission to taunt your every waking moment. It is jarring and strange but no less sweet and captivating, and you don't think that you could imagine being with anyone else right now and experiencing the same breadth of joy and tranquility.

Your body almost goes lax against his, settling underneath the comforting heat radiating from the plains of his chest and abdomen. It's all peaceful and unrushed. Just two people enjoying each other's company without the threat of any responsibilities or tasks looming ahead to move you apart. And for a moment you think that you could fall asleep like this, standing up while cradled in his arms.

But then one of his hands begins to wander, shifting from its place around your middle to slip underneath your (his) shirt. And you can't help but to smile, basking in the subtle shift that weaves over the privacy of the bathroom. It's simmering and low and it already has a delicate heat blossoming between your thighs. His fingers trace up your stomach, leaving a buzzing trail across your skin in their wake and when they reach the swell of one your breasts it has you gasping.

"Open your eyes, " he purrs in your ear, smoky and sonorous and it gives you no choice but to comply. You hadn't even realized that you had closed them until they're fluttering open and meeting Farleigh's in the mirror's reflection. And the smoldering want alight within them has you breathless and thrumming with anticipation.

His other hand starts drifting, but it isn't slipping up to join the opposing one near your chest, it's traveling down low until his fingers are teasing at the band of your boxers that hang from your hips. He lets his thumb glide underneath the fabric to sweep teasing glides across the skin of your pubic mound. And you find yourself trying to lightly grind against his hand like it might get it to move lower to where you want him. But he doesn't budge, and the only thing that greets you is a condescending chuckle against the side of your head as he plants a kiss into the plush of your hair.

"I'm going to fuck you with my fingers, and you're going to watch."

That just about nearly makes your knees go slack. And the warmth blossoming in your stomach is thick and heady already. He doesn't even have to ask if you agree, you beat him to the punch, eagerly nodding in response with a quick yes. And it's then that his hand finally moves. Your mouth drops open when his fingers slip in between your legs, parting through the heat of you and gently grinding against your clit in heavy, teasing glides. And the fingertips on your breast softly pluck at your nipple in time with each circle around the sensitive nerves at the apex of your thighs.

It has you becoming aware of how wet you already are, but you can't focus on the embarrassment for long because the sheer intensity of Farleigh's gaze has you in a grip. He only breaks the contact to briefly admire the shape of his hand jutting out from underneath the fabric of your boxers before it sweeps back up to your face, making you focus on yourself. There's already a glazed over sort of gleam in the reflection of your eyes, and your chest is rhythmically rising and expanding to release low, airy gasps.

It has heat prickling at your cheeks in a self-conscious response and you can't help it when you look away from the image of the both of you to train your gaze onto something else. It wasn't seeing him that made you feel awkward, it was seeing yourself like this that was so strange. You couldn't watch yourself like this. So, you pin your gaze onto the golden trim of the mirror instead, tracing the shapes of the cherubim and flora carved into the wood as some kind of distraction while your hips chase after the sultry simmer that's lowly building within the cradle of your hips.

But even with that pleasure, you can't help the way you whine when the hand stroking at your breast suddenly leaves. Though you can't voice your frustration before it's slipping from underneath the shirt and taking ahold of your jaw, guiding you to tilt your head back. The cradle of his hand is almost light despite the firmness behind it, more of a suggestion really, but you find yourself yielding to it regardless. Allowing your head to loll back on your neck until it's pressed against him.

And the angle makes you see yourself in the reflection. You want to glance away again and save yourself from the awkward prickling at your skin.

"Watch," Farleigh orders softly, nipping at your ear like it was a kind of reprimand.

And you can't look away now. Not with the sound of his command still ringing in your mind, all low and raspy.

"Good girl," he purrs. Then one of his fingers is slipping inside of you and even though he had just fucked you last night, you can still feel your walls slightly stretching around the thickness of it. A ragged moan tears from your lips at the feel of it and your body mindlessly jerks against the sensation, making you unintentionally grind against the rigid heat of his cock pressing against your backside. You can hear the soft sigh of pleasure that leaves him at the feel of you rocking against him, and his eyebrows pinch close with a near rapturous type of wince. Like it already felt too good.

It gives you a sense of satisfaction to know that even while he's pumping his finger into the heat of your cunt and working you into the throes of a syrupy, saccharine pleasure that you could still affect him. You can tell that he's noticed the slight smirk that's begun to tilt at your lips if the way that he glares at you from over your shoulder is anything to go by. And never to be one to back down from a challenge, he's gliding a second finger in alongside the other and curling them in deep.

Your hands reach for the counter, grabbing onto the edge of the sink for some stability. For something to anchor you while pure liquid heat pours over you like melted wax. But you don't stop fucking yourself on his hand, you don't stop grinding against him either, desperately rolling the swell of your ass against the rigid press of his cock; eager to see that near wounded look that crosses his face whenever he's in pleasure.

And it feels like a reward when his own jaw drops open with a moan. But then he's biting onto the junction of your neck like he's trying to silence himself, and the mere thought of being deprived of his voice has you whining out. Not this again . . .

"Farleigh," you keen raggedly, almost hiccupping around the steady, repetitive thrust of his fingers. " Please, I want to hear you. Let me hear you."

There's a brief bout of silence, and for one horrible moment you think that he's going to deprive you and leave you wanting, but then he's removing his teeth from their hold on your skin and nuzzling his nose against your head. Thankfully, he doesn't try to quiet himself. He lets his lips remain parted, allowing that gorgeous, low panting to escape, pushed out by the way that he's started to grind up against you, meeting the thrust of your hips with his own.

He looks gorgeous like this, with his eyelids settled low over his eyes from an intense type of want and desire and you think that you can see a fine dusting of sweat already glittering over his skin from the low, golden light projecting from the bedroom behind the both of you. And even with the heavy grate from the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit and the pulse of his fingers building that consuming fire in your gut, you honestly think that a large portion of your pleasure is coming from just seeing him.

And you think that it might be the same for him. His gaze is fixed onto you with an almost enraptured sort of quality to his gaze, like he couldn't bear to look away from you. And with the way that you're both working yourselves against each other, it's apparent that you're just blatantly getting off on seeing the other becoming worked up and clouded over with desire.

The sounds of your joined moaning and gasps are amplified within the cradle of the bathroom walls, and it just makes your body burn all the more hotter. Your eyes nearly roll back when his fingertips brush against that debilitating spot inside of you, and your back arches involuntarily, drawing tight like a bowstring.

"Right there, huh, baby?" He coos a little condescending, but you couldn't care less. Not with how he's working his fingers so well. Threatening to tear you apart and make you unravel with a few more well-placed swipes. And you just nod. Anything to satisfy him and have him keep going. To nudge you closer and closer to that wonderful, tempting edge and guide you over it.

"You really want to cum, don't you?" There's a taunting quality to his voice that easily would have tipped you off if your mind wasn't fogged over with lust but right now you're too caught up in feeling to even focus. It takes everything to even reply to him, though it comes out as more of a breathless huff of pleasure rather than an articulated response. And he's got that satisfied grin on his lips. Like he has you right where he wants you. "Then go get on the bed."

That's the only warning you get before he's slipping his fingers from your cunt and cruelly stepping away from you. The glare that you give him is full of hurt and scathing, and you can feel the dull rise of your approaching orgasm fading into a taunting, warm pulse between your legs and your walls flutter around nothing. But he doesn't appear to be guilty in the slightest. Instead, he's lifting the hand that he had used to fuck you and places his fingers onto his tongue to suck the gauzy sheen of your cum from them.

It has that desire flaring again and whatever quip you had at the ready extinguishing before you could even try to get it out. And you're quick to turn on your heels, trying to ignore the way that your knees slightly quiver with adrenaline and anticipation as you make your way towards the threshold of the bathroom. Though, you can't stop yourself from shooting Farleigh a look when he plants a slap on your ass when you walk past him to the bedroom.

But regardless of your frustration, you're doing exactly as he told you and crawling back onto the plush mattress of his bed as soon as you cross the wooden floorboards. You move up on your hands and knees until you reach the pillows, and then you twist around onto your back to get comfortable, swallowing around a shaky breath.

It takes you by complete surprise when Farleigh sweeps over you, urging you to fall onto the inviting warmth of the bedding as he climbs over your body. You hadn't even realized that he was following that closely behind, but you don't even have time to think on it before his lips are connecting with your own, urging you into heated exchange that completely siphons the oxygen from your lungs.

And his hands are everywhere, like he's trying to feel every groove and notch of you to collect it and put it away for safekeeping. Like he's trying to memorize your body. He tastes sweet, like peppermint and ice, no doubt from the toothpaste that he had just used a bit earlier. But there's something earthy on his lips too that you gradually come to recognize as your own cum, and it has you moaning into his mouth brokenly. It prompts you to claw the boxers around his waist just like he's doing to your own, the both of you are desperate to get the pieces of fabric from your bodies so that you could finally just feel each other.

You both separate yourselves from the kiss just long enough for you to prop yourself up to tear his sweater from your body and you don't miss the way that his eyes immediately rove down to your exposed breasts. And as much as you'd love to feel him touching them, you still need to taste his lips on your own. It has you cradling his face in your palms and dragging him down to reconnect your mouth to his in an exchange of tongue and teeth.

You're both moaning into each other, taking in the others air and gulping in it like it's your own. The atmosphere surrounding the room is thick and charged with something so frenzied and wild that it feels like electricity is getting ready to spill over you. It has you reaching down for the boxers that he's wearing and tugging at them like they've offended you personally. And right now, they kind of are, covering him up and keeping you from properly feeling him. Thankfully, he understands what you want, and he shuffles back just enough, rising on his knees to hook his thumbs into the band secured around his hips to work them down his legs.

For a moment you can't help but admire him once the length of his cock springs out from the cloth of his boxers, but the outright desperate whine that leaves him when you stopped touching him for too long is quick to spur you into action. And you follow after him, reaching to help pull them off, but you have to nudge him on his chest, silently directing him to fall back onto the mattress. And he lets you, settling down so that you tug them past his knees and then off his feet to toss them carelessly across the room.

But then he's on you again, quicker than you can even blink, and now you're the once again the one laying with their back against the bed. He looms over you with something hungry and eager burning in his eyes and it has your body involuntarily writhing to press up against his own. Distraught with the need to just feel him. He's quick to tear your boxers off with an equal fervor, but he doesn't wait for you to try and help him. He practically rips them off of you, nearly dragging you down the bed when they briefly catch on one of the heels of your feet.

You spread your legs to let him fully settle between their cradle and the weight of his length pressing against the wet heat of your cunt nearly makes you sob out loud. But unfortunately, despite the frenzy that had overcame him before, he still seems to be in the mood to tease, at least somewhat. Because instead of offering the both of you the relief that you crave and just fucking you, he just settling himself over you, leaning the brunt of weight on his elbows as he ducks his head down low and takes one of your nipples into the sweltering heat of his mouth.

You cry out when he sucks at it, tracing it with the tip of his tongue and gently tugging at it with the barely-there scrape of his teeth. It makes you grip onto his shoulders for some sort of tether. Anything to keep you from just floating away from your body. But he doesn't give you any sort of reprieve before he starts to grind against you, dragging his cock through the slick warmth of your cunt and nudging the swollen, sensitive bud of your clit with the head of his length.

Your fingernails drag across the skin of his back, but it doesn't hurt him if the way that he groans around your breast is any indication. You can't do anything other than just lying back and taking it. And as impatient as you feel, you can't deny that it feels good to try and endure the sweet torture of him making you wait. And you just allow yourself to fall into the melted, sugary haze filling up your skull.

Your legs fall open wider when his cock slips across you and brushes over your entrance, and for one blessed moment you think that he might actually fuck you. But he doesn't. He just continues to grind steadily; increasing that stifling, profound heat in your body, and it trickles down the individual notches of your spine until it's pouring between the cradle of your hips and settling between your thighs like something molten and inextinguishable and fluid.

His lips leave your breast with an audible pop but he's fast to shift over and take your other nipple into his mouth, moaning around your chest and teasing the rigid, sensitive skin with the suction of his tongue. It makes you whimper, a little pathetic and certainly needy, and you can feel the vibrations of his smug laughter dancing across your skin.

It pisses you off, the outright way that he's teasing you and as good as this is, as good as it feels, you need him. You can't keep yourself from removing your hands from the expanse of his back and taking his face back into your hands to move his head from your breast to look at you. Something flickers in his eyes, it could have been a mild form of irritation, but you aren't exactly in the best state of mind to be sure. It melts away just as quickly as it had been there, shifting into something satisfied and fond at the sight of you and there's a dazed sort of quality to his gaze too. And you're pretty sure that you look just as drunk on your lust as he does.

"Farleigh, please. " You beg shamelessly, panting against his lips as you press desperate, pronounced kisses against his lips. You can feel the way that he's smirking underneath each peck, but you can't find it in yourself to be mad. You're too worked up, and the constant, languid drag of his cock against your clit is doing wonders to evaporate every single coherent thought from your brain. "I need you. Please, I need you to just fuck me - please -"

"Yeah, you do need me, don't you?" It's said such a matter-of-fact way but even with that haze stuffing your head, you swear that you can see something pass over his expression. Something that almost looks vulnerable and maybe even insecure. It reminds you off his earlier confession. How he had admitted that he'd always assumed that you had a crush on Felix, or that you would eventually come to develop one at the very least.

It reminds you of your own jealously that you had felt every time that you saw someone with their arms wrapped around his neck or exchanging a flirty set of words. How it had always threatened to choke you with the searing, ugly heat. It hurts you to think that he may still carry that pain now, even while he's wrapped up in your embrace.

"I need you, " you agree. And you do your best to pour all of your emotions into it, to telegraph to him that it's so much more than sex talk. That you want him to know that you do actually need him. That it's been him. That it's always been him. "I need you, Farleigh. Just you."

And it must work. The scope of your emotions must show across your face because something affectionate and tender melts over his features and he confirms that he's heard you with subtle nod.

"I've got you, " he says, pressing a long, wanting kiss to your lips. "I got you, baby."

And he lifts one of his hands down to take ahold of his girth while he softly rotates his hips, grinding the head of his cock around your clit one last time before he's finally guiding himself into your heat. The moan that leaves you is punched out and ragged already, and your walls clench and flutter around him as he splits you open, gradually feeding you every glorious inch at a time. Letting you feel all of it as it slips inside until he's physically stopped by the press of his hips against yours.

He's panting already too, groaning lowly from the way that your pussy won't stop pulsing around him as it adjusts to his length. But you can't help it. Not when he feels so good. And your eyes fix onto the delicate necklaces draped from his neck, focusing on the pendants dangling from them to try and keep yourself present.

You don't even have to beg. He's drawing back until it's just his tip inside of you and then he's thrusting forward in a way that leaves you breathless. But it isn't rapid or ardent like it was last night or even just a little earlier, instead it's unhurried and savoring. The both of you seeming to come to the conclusion that you don't have to scramble zealously. That the both of you already have each other. That neither of you are going to leave the other and you could fully relish in your bodies and presence completely unrushed.

Your hips lift on their own, instinctively rocking to meet the languorous pattern that he's set, and it has your head rolling back. But even while you're fully basking in the rapturous drag of his cock, you can't pull your eyes from him. The burning, smoldering fog taking over you can't keep you from admiring him and the way that the golden sunlight has highlighted the flecks of a rich bronze and even some faint glints of copper in his hair. There's a thin layer of sweat perspiring on the warm shade of his skin and that pinched furrow between his eyebrows is back, telling you that he's enjoying this just as much as you are.

And the pleasure is washing over you like heated butter, making your toes curl and fingers twist into the sheets for something to keep you roped here; from drifting off from this moment and getting lost. The breathless moans leaving his chest just work you up even more, making you desperate and wanton.

He's ducking his head down to mouth at your exposed neck, taking advantage of the way that your head is still tilted back. And he reaches down to grip at one of your thighs, notching it up higher around his waist and it somehow makes you feel all that closer. Eliminating just a few centimeters worth of space between the two of you but it's enough to have you gasping.

"Farleigh," you cry. And you reach one of your hands up to clasp his upper arm, feeling the muscles underneath flex with each shift from his hips. He grinds into you with each thrust, rolling his hips in a way that has his pelvis grinding over your clit and liquefying your brain into useless mush. It almost feels like too much. It's lighting you on fire and scorching you from the inside out. And the sweet kisses that he's peppering across your skin doesn't help your case. It just helps to make you feel even more adrift, lost in a seizing current and frothing waves.

You can distantly feel him tenderly nuzzle his nose between the valley of your breast, and the sensation of his tongue trailing across your chest quickly follows, tasting the salt of your skin. And the head of his cock brushes against that spot within you that makes you squirm and sob, and you can tell that the way that you've begun to helplessly jerk underneath him is just the reaction that he was searching for, judging by the feel of his smirk against your body. That he's absolutely reveling in the way that tears have begun to prickle at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure ravaging your body; threatening to spill.

And as cocky as he may be, you can tell that he's not doing much better. The shameless way that he's moaning out gives away as much; airy and debauched.

God, he sounds so hot, it has that fluid warmth steadily rising up again, just threatening to tip over you and sweep you away. It has you fucking yourself against him with ardor, whimpering at the persistent cant of his hips. And you keep tightening yourself around the shape of his length, determined to drag him down with you, to feel him come undone and spill over.

You can tell that he's getting close with the way that his breath his hitching. That you're both hanging off the precipice of something extraordinary and debilitating and it makes you cling to him harder, swinging your other leg around his waist to hold him closer, to try and ground yourself. But the air in your lungs keeps getting choked out, and you're barely able to get your warning out from your lungs. "Farleigh, " you moan, gasping. " I'm gonna cum. Farleigh - "

He just nods against your chest, huffing and panting over your skin. "I know, baby, I can feel it."

One of your hands blindly searches around, scrambling for his own that he has somewhere above your head. And he seems to take notice of your unseeing pursuit because soon his fingers are slipping between your own and clenching your palm in a soothing, reaffirming gesture. It has pure devotion blooming within your chest, so strong that it feels as though you might fall apart and burn alight with it.

He lifts his head from its place on your chest, subtly shifting forward without disrupting the pace that he's set so that he could settle his forehead against yours, using the angle to look into your eyes. And the warmth reflecting in them makes you feel like the only being in the world. Coveted and adored and you can only hope that he's able to recognize the same reverence and affection in your own gaze. That he truly understands how much you actually care and want for him.

And the sheer breadth of your feelings, of his, of this moment has that all-consuming chasm opening up underneath you and threatening to swallow you whole. But you just need something. Just something small to finally tip you over.

"Farleigh, " you beg. And it's like he can just sense it. Or maybe he can just feel it in the way that your muscles have all coiled up and tensed in anticipation. Because you don't even have to ask or clarify before he's reaching down between your bodies and swiping his fingers over the slick, swollen bud of your clit in brushes that have your jaw dropping open.

"Farleigh!" This time you all but scream it as your body seizes almost violently, sweeping you underneath a blazing torrent. It's like being scalded by the sun in an exquisite burn, like breathing after drowning. It's pure pleasure. Complete ecstasy. And the entire time, you're fully aware of feel of Farleigh's body against your own. The way that his thrusts have gone choppy and lurching. You can still hear the way that he's moaning and whimpering even though it sounds muffled and distant and miles away while your brain goes blissfully blank from the brunt of all molten elation pouring throughout your limbs, making you go limp.

But even throughout all of the overwhelming pleasure taking over you, you hardly allow your eyes to flutter closed; desperate to see him come undone. You can tell that he's close. Just seconds from spilling over and getting swept up just as you had. And it has you squeezing yourself around him, desperate to urge him closer to his orgasm, despite the raw, sensitivity clinging to your nerves.

"I want you to cum, " you say breathlessly. His face twists up in response, and his hips twitch with just a bit more vigor. "Please, baby, I want to feel it. I need to feel you."

And that seems to be enough to tip him over the edge, because his body goes rigid, nearly curling in on itself while a torn, frayed moan rips from his lungs and the heat of his cum fills you. His breath catches while he uses you to ride out the rest of his orgasm, and his muscles shudder while he grinds into you with weak, uncoordinated thrusts before he goes lax with a strained gasp.

He lets himself go boneless on top of you, sinking into your body with a light, satisfied sigh. But the weight of him isn't uncomfortable. It feels good, and you have no desire to make him or yourself shift while you soak in the afterglow. Everything is hazy and comforting, and it feels as though all of the energy has been sapped from your body, but in the best way.

You can hear the birds outside again, singing and jovial, and the scent of the sweet summer air is still drifting through the window. It's pure peace, with the feel of his form up against you. All of the chemicals moving around in your brain make it difficult to focus, but even then, you're aware enough to notice him briefly reaching down to gather up the comforter, which had shifted in the mad scramble of your bodies to pull it up over the both of you.

And you can hear yourself moan quietly when he rotates you both without pulling himself out from the heat of your body. So now that you're the one tucked into the cradle of his chest, but all you get is a gentle hush in response. And with the heat radiating from his skin and the cushion of the blankets cocooned around you both it already has you slipping into the hold of sleep as you both settle. But even with the lull of unconsciousness threatening to spill over you, you can't hide from the volume of the emotions welling up within you. It all feels unexplainable. All-encompassing and bright. Like it might burst. Like it might eat you alive. But not violently. It's soft and delicate and fiery, and the sheer gravity of it has you struggling to grapple with it.

You know what it is. What you're feeling. But that's another step to take entirely.

"We've still got some time to catch up on some sleep, " you hear him mumble above you in a gentle rasp. "I'll wake you up."

You just hum in response, but not without placing a small peck onto his chest and nuzzling against him, purely content. And you think that you feel him place a kiss onto the crown of your head in turn and you're unable to fight the smile that curves at your lips.

You fall asleep in his arms with that single, world altering word on the tip of your tongue. A small, otherwise harmless but no doubt powerful word that sounds a lot like love.

#farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh start smut #farleigh saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh catton #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn x reader #saltburn movie #saltburn

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callme-holly · 3 months

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Hi! I was wondering if you could write about Dallas having a serious crush on a girl and getting embarrassed telling his friends about it. Love your writing! Thank you so much!

'𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝.' [𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - this is very all over the place... I might write a part 2 to this where our boy confesses but we'll see. I'm a little behind on requests so I apologise but I swear I will get to them eventually!! Hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 727 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing

Okay so, Dallas wouldn't admit to having a crush straight away, in fact, he'll probably deny it for as long as he possibly can.

I imagine he first saw you at the drive-in with Johnny and Pony and he could not stop looking at you. You had his full, undivided attention and nothing could distract him from you.

When they noticed, Pony and Johnny teased him endlessly for it but, because Dallas was known to have a reputation, they didn't take his staring as anything unusual. They pretty soon forgot about you.

Dallas, however, did not. He couldn't seem to stop thinking about you and when he finally spotted you again he was very quick to strike up conversation.

He found that there was more to you than just a pretty face and took quite a liking to you.

Needless to say, after that first interaction, you had a certain greaser chasing after you like a lost dog wherever you went.

If he's hanging out with the gang and you walk past, you best believe he's dropping everything to follow after you. He doesn't care who he's with, (unless it's Johnny, in which case you'll have two greasers following after you) he will make up an excuse just to run across the street and catch up with you.

it's at this point that the gang will probably notice something is up.

Sure, Dallas chases after girls all the time, but very rarely will he stick to the same one.

When they discover from Ponyboy that you're the same girl he had been obsessing over at the drive-in, they're very quick to catch on and it won't take them long to bring it up to their friend.

One night, they'll all be hanging out at the Curtis House and Two-bit will just casually ask Dallas where he's been running off to every now and then.

Dallas will of course brush them off and tell them to "mind their own" before changing the subject a little too fast to just be casual.

Throughout the night, the boys will then start to drop your name every so often just to gauge Dallas' reaction.

This carries on for a few more weeks (I told you he's stubborn) before he finally admits that he might have feelings for you.

Obviously he tells Johnny first before finally breaking the news to the rest of the gang.

Needless to say, they are all shocked and I can imagine it going a little something like this:

“You what?!” Dallas winces, taking a long drag from his cigarette as the gang all stare at him wide-eyed. He looks between them, trying to gauge their reactions and finding only confusion with a hint of concern for their friend's well being. “Are you feelin’ okay?” Two-bit raises a hand to Dallas' foregead, only to be slapped away by the hoodlum, earning a scowl in response. “Cut that out, will ya?” He straightens up, placing the cigarette between his lips once more. “It ain’t that big a deal–” “It kinda is, Dal.” Pony interrupts, tilting his head slightly. “I ain’t known you to settle down with no one.” Dallas grunts. The kid has a point; he doesn’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to dating. Hell, the longest relationship he’d ever been able to maintain had lasted around a month before the girl had gotten tired of his bullshit antics and had dropped him without a second thought. At least that hadn’t been his fault. All the other times, though–well, he wasn't exactly the poster child for healthy relationships. “Maybe I'm just bored,” he suggests weakly, ignoring the collective eyeroll of the rest of the group. “I mean, there's only so much sleepin' around I can do, man.” It wasn't a lie. He was tired; tired of getting dumped whenever things went south or getting hurt whenever he tried too hard. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he just wanted something more. Something permanent. “Never thought I’d live to see the day where Dallas Winston was swoonin’ over a girl.” Steve remarks and Dallas can’t help but roll his eyes, taking his cigarette from his mouth to flick the ashes onto the floor, ignoring the glare he receives from Darry. “Keep talkin’ like that and you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

So, yeah... he gets pretty defensive real quick and won't take any teasing from anyone.

Let's just say, when he does finally ask you out, he's got six cheerleaders watching from afar.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders imagine #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston #johnny cade #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #dally winston

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normansnt · 3 months

Text

For old times sake (pt.2)

(Huskerdust x platonic! Male!overlord reader)

I'm really happy with how this turned out. Non of y'all asked for it the idea just hit me so I had to write it down😎

ALSO

I'm VERY likely going to write a pt.3 thats an Alastor x male reader so lemme know if ya'll would want that🫡💗

Warnings: V@lentino

Art by the very talented: @dragon-spaghetti

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You were having the best time. Talking to Husk and Angel was very fun and you saw the amazing chemistry they had. You guys were talking laughing and drinking in your office when suddenly Angels phone started to get bombarded with messages.

You felt the sudden shift in atmosphere. Angel hurriedly reached for his phone and when he saw the messages he jumped up.

"It was nice to meet you (Y/N) I had a lot of fun and thank you for the drinks but I have to go now, Husk baby I'll see you at the Hotel don't wait up for me if I get home late."

He said, with one breath and quicker then you have seen anybody talk and left with the same speed.

"Shit..." said Husk as he stood up with a sigh to pour himself another drink.

"What was that?" You asked baffled.

"It's...its his job, his boss he is... a fucking cunt"

Said Husk with audible anger in his voice.

You were about to ask more questions but then it hit you. You knew angel was a porn actor. And you also knew about the Vees. It was easy to put the picture together from this point on. And judging by Angles terrified reaction, Husks anger and cussing you could quite easily tell how his boss treated the spider.

"Hey, Husk" he looked at you with tired eyes.

"I have an idea." You said at last with a smirk on your face.

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

"HAHH, suck it idiots, guess who was invited to a business meeting by THE (Y/N) Demon of gambling." Yelled Valentino as he entered the Vees break room.

"What. The. FUCK, give me that" said Vox pissed as he tore the invitation from Valentinos hand.

"THAT BITCH, why did he invite you and not all of us."

"Never mind that who the fuck sends messages via letters?" Asked Velvette disgusted.

"This is the way the big shots do it, you uncultured swine" said Valentine still very full of himself due to the invite.

"That doesn't make ANY sense" Vox has read the invitation at least 3x by now not understanding why you invited only Valentino.

The Vees have been trying to get in contact with you for years now but to no avail. You had no interest in any alliances since you thought them to be stupid and egoistic, if overlord meetings were something to go by.

"Deal with it honey, I'm just better than you guys" ended Valentino the conversation as he snatched the letter from Vox and blew the pink smoke from his cigarette into his face.

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

Valentino showed up to your casino with Angel by his side dressed in...well, almost nothing. Of course he wasn't gonna show up without a pretty thing by his side and who better than his favorite toy.

"If you embarrass me in front of the demon of gambling I'll-" he started saying through clenched teeth but got interrupted. By you.

"Mr. Valentino, it is such a pleasure to meet you." You started as you put your hand out to shake.

He shook your hand slowly. He was surprised to say the least. One of the most powerful overlords was this young, not to mention very hot. When he got over his surprise however his personality was back and on FULL display for you. He turned on his charm like never before and started shamelessly flirting with you.

You just kept the calm smile on your face.

"So, Mr. Valentino I'm sure you are wondering why I invited you and we will be having a business meeting do not threat however I'm afraid I have something else to take care of first, please go ahed and try out the games my casino has to offer and drink something, all the drinks are on the house for you."

Now, in a situation like this normally Valentino would be offended. How dare someone invite him and then say they have something else to do.

But you were different. You were a very powerful person in all aspects, your goddamn charm, it was just irresistible not to mention the free drinks.

"Well all right but do not keep me waiting for long now, amor." He said with the ever present flirtatious tone in his voice.

You didn't react to this, just a simple nod of your head and with that you left.

Valentino hasn't gambled much in his life, or death, he just stood by when Vox did it, so he sat down by a random table.

He won. To his (and Angels) biggest surprise, he won.

"Oh, yeah, this is going to be a good night. ANGEL, bring me another drink."

This was just the beginning of the night. He continued to go around table by table, and he won, by every single one of them. And the more he won the more he drank.

About two hours after he arrived one of your employees came up to your office.

"It's time sir I think he is drunk enough." Said your guard. So, you put down the book you were reading and stretched. You didn't have anything to do, that was just a lie. It was just part of the plan.

When you arrived downstairs you saw that your employee had been right, Valentino was standing on the table singing and kicking the coins he had won.

You cleared your throat.

"Mr. Valentino, I'm glad you're enjoying my casino" with that one sentence you got everyone's attention in the room.

You could have that effect. You weren't a cruel overlord and didn't choose to rule over people by the means of fear. But you could make it so that even just your voice demanded respect.

"I see you have won quite a lot, would you care to play a round against, me?" You said ever so calmly.

And of course drunk and full of himself due to not loosing once all night, Valentino was more then happy to play with you.

"Now then, since we are playing in the big leagues now we cant just play for money thats below us don't you think."

"I'd like to be below you, handsome" he answered.

You just hummed, unamused.

"I say, how about we play for souls."

That caught Valentino off guard, he didn't think of that, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of you so he agreed.

"And...whose soul would you be offering? I heard the demon of gambling doesn't own anyones soul" said Valentino with just a bit of temptation in his voice.

You hummed.

"You heard correctly, I'm in no need of souls, I will be offering...my own" you said still as calm as ever.

To that Valentine spit out his drink. The amount of power that would be in his hand if he owned your soul is...too much for his drunken mind to think about. And of course due to the amount of alcohol in his system he didn't think about how stupid this proposition would be on your part if you weren't 100% sure you would win. He didn't even think about the fact that you are the demon of gambling, the owner of a casino, it would have been obvious to anyone that he had no chance at winning.

"Well then, I'll offer the soul of this beautiful thing here" he said while squeezing angels cheek.

You looked at Angel and said

"Very well then, let the game begin.".

After a few rounds, you were loosing. Big fucking time and Angel was starting to get very worried. But not only him, Husk, who was the whole time as well, making sure the plan goes well, was starting to doubt you two. He knew first hand just how good you were especially in poker, but it was still a game that depended on luck at least 50% of it.

When Valentino needed a break to go puke, Husk walked over to you.

"Kid, just what the hell are you doing you are aware that you're loosing." He said pretty pissed off.

"Oh, I'm just messing with him-"

"Well stop, what if you mess too close to the sun you might be good but you cannot control your luck."

"Luck is a non factor if you use logic. You seriously think a porn seller, money hungry, moth man big shot wanna be will beat me, in Poker? Don't insult me." And with that Valentino returned and the game continued.

He kept winning rounds and Angel and Husk were growing more anxious by the second.

Finally the last rounds were coming around and thats when you decide you messed with him enough. And just like that you started putting down winning hands one after the other.

Valentino was panicking. He is about to loose his best paying costumer whatever you come out with this round everything depends on it-

Royal Flush.

You fucking won the game.

Now that the loss has sobered his mind he could finally look at all of this in a logical way.

Of fucking corse you won. You are the mother fucking demon of gambling just how the hell did he think he could win.

But the wins before. Hold on. That was illogical too, NO ONE goes to a casino and wins every fucking time was he really that drunk not to notice.

You broke him out of his thoughts when you snapped your fingers. And Angels contract that bound him to Valentino appeared in your hands.

However now, where Valentinos name used to be, stood yours.

"Well, Mr. Valentino that was a very productive business meeting I hope to never see you in the future"

"...What?" asked the moth angrier by the minute.

"You still haven't figured it out? I do not care for you or the other Vees business. Did it not seem suspicious that I only invited you? What am I saying of course it didn't, because a narcissist like you would never ask why someone wants their company. See, thats why tricking you was so easy. Getting you drunk wasn't even necessary I only did it so I can be sure that you will play for angels soul."

"...but, but...NO, Angel dust is still mine, he-" Valentino went to reach for Angel but Husk stopped him.

"No he fucking aint." Hissed the cat.

In panic Valentino tried to make the leash appear but to no avail. A deal was a deal. He doesn't own Angel's soul anymore.

"Just why the FUCK was it so important to you to get a wretched whore's soul?" Asked the moth now yelling.

"It was a favor for an old friend."

"You mother fucking- do you know who the fuck I am, I will destroy you me and the Vees-"

"No" you stated simply.

This was the last drop for Valentino.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN NO-"

"I would like to ask you to leave now Mr.Valentino and, please tell your partner not to send me any more invitations, I do not care"

Valentino made one last attempt to attack you but your guards stopped him.

"I was winning all night you dickwad I sucked your casino dry" tried to irritate you Valentino.

"Oh? Thats right here, isn't this one of your coins?" You threw it at him.

"Of course, every coin has two sides."

Valentino turned the coin around to discover a big fat 0 at the other side.

"What-"

"You really thought you won at every single table? Wow, you are even stupider than I thought."

It was part of the plan, you told everyone who worked at the casino wherever Valentino sits down, he wins, at least coins of zero. You needed to boost his confidence so he'd think he can beat you.

"You will not take him away from me I'll find him-"

"You will do no such a thing he belongs to me now so he is under my protection." You were getting a but pissed now, he just wouldn't give up would he?

He was about yo say more when you looked at him. Dead in the eyes. Thats half the reason why you are as powerful as you are. The look. If you looked someone deep in the eyes they will see their worst nightmares playing right in front of them.

Valentino started screaming, crying and shaking uncontrollably. And with that your guards dragged him out.

You turned to Angel and Husk, who were standing there holding hands.

You looked at Angel, lifted the contract, and tore it in half right in front of him.

Angel was staring at you. He stared as tears started to roll down his cheek and he fell to the ground in sobs.

'I'm free' he thought to himself over and over again. Husk chuckled as he knelt down to his boyfriend and hugged him.

You two locked eyes, and you understood just how thankful he was, words weren't needed.

You wanted the couple to have some privacy so you headed back to your office.

Unbeknownst to you another demon was present that night at the casino, and he saw the whole ordeal.

"How well you grew up to be, young (Y/N)" chuckled Alstor to himself.

"(Y/N)" you heard Ang- Anthony yell from behind you.

You turned around with raised eyebrows and looked at him.

"THANK YOU" he yelled still sobbing.

You smiled at him.

"Happy to help, for old times sake."

#male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #hazbin hotel #lgbtqia #hazbin husk #hazbin angel dust #huskerdust #angel x husk #angel dust x husk

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takes1 · 8 days

Text

final part. bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

thank you for all the kind words on this series!! fell in love with writing again and the support really helps me stay motivated! hit up my requests to lmk what else ya'll might wanna read from me!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

details. nsfw / semi-public sex / safe sex! / m. first time / implied exp. reader / f. receiving oral / almost m. oral / mentioned handjobs / time skip / tsukki has horrible stamina / tsukki figuring out condoms / tsukki needing his glasses / needyshima / 3.5k

🤍 kei series. part one -- four here

more links. my ao3, my other stuff. request box

"What? You don't have to do that!"

Honored that the team as a unanimous entity agreed that you shouldn't clean and lock up the gym yourself, you blinked away the unexpected backlash.

You turned to Daichi, unable to buck up the courage to address everyone, "It's really not a big deal. You guys need to rest before this thing, I want all of you to get home as soon as you can."

He turned it over in his head a few times, looking to Suga for a second opinion, while most others insisted that they didn't want you staying longer.

They all had their personal reasons. Most were only doing it to be polite, but there were also a number of idiots that wanted to train for much longer than they should be allowed to.

Logic won out and soon you were twirling the keys around your finger, waving goodbye to the most disheartened Hinata you'd ever seen.

"You can come out," You called to Tsukishima after securing the closed doors.

He blended right out of the crowd earlier, sneaking off to the gym closet before anyone noticed his absence. It was pretty impressive how he managed to go so overlooked at his height.

From the clacking and banging that ensued beyond the closet entrance, you could only imagine he must've buried himself under some tricky supplies to remain hidden.

These desperate measures weren't commonplace; your parents were gone often, so most of the risque endeavors were kept to your bed. You made the mistake of going to his house only once, and thankfully were (mostly) clothed when his brother barged in.

When you approached, he was kicking a bucket off of his foot with the grumpiest frown on his face. It only deepened as you laughed at him.

"Ooh, was that tough?" You teased, taking his attitude-stricken face in your hands.

He rolled his eyes and let you pepper him with a few quick kisses.

"It was your idea," You reminded him, trying to make him maintain eye contact.

Neither of your homes had been a good option to see each other in lately. For a week, it was just studying together in public spaces. Though the normalcy was nice, you were both itching after the end of every practice to really 'see' each other.

His eyes flickered to match your gaze, but it was gone in an instant because he stole your lips for a gentle, long-awaited kiss. His body melted into yours, features relaxed when you pulled away.

He let you pull him back deeper into the closet, but not without some payment in return. It wasn't exactly a sexy place to be.

"This is-," You said between rushed, indecent kisses, "Pretty exciting," Your hand caught on a pile of heavy gymnastics mats to catch yourself from his clumsy pushing, "Isn't it?"

The presence of the mat did give him some ideas. Maybe it wasn't so bad.

With a bit of tantalizing force, he picked you up and smushed you against the only bare wall in the closet. Your tummy tightened and you locked around him with an uncontrollable moan.

There were a lot of things he thought to say, but didn't dare ruin how hot that was with his, at the worst of times, mood-ruining comments.

You nonverbally thanked him with a roll of your hips on his strained cock and a bold tongue against his own. He felt heavier on you, clawing at your ass under your shorts, a low groan just barely tangible against your mouth.

His tendency to get lost in these small things held the romantic in you captive- while also tending to your more animalistic impulses.

He just wanted more and more of you, and couldn't ever get enough.

It was because of this that you found it so difficult to wriggle out of his grasp, even though it was clear you were trying to take your shirt off.

You chuckled at his uncoordinated grabbing, nuzzling against your hair, and eventual drop to his knees when you unclipped your bra.

On his way down, he removed his soaked shirt off and cast it aside.

From this height he could offer his hands and mouth much easier. He never envied shorter men until he started getting neck pain from kissing you all the time.

His hands took up so much of your chest it looked a bit funny to you. At least for a moment. He pressed the flat of his tongue to a sensitive bud and sighed some preoccupied satisfaction through his nose when he sucked a kiss to the other.

His eyes were fierce and hard to look at when he was ever beneath you, it always sent a chill down your spine.

You bit back many a-sound to not let it all go to his ego too quickly. Despite this, he felt your excitement through your rapid, uneven breathing and relished in it anyway.

The imaginative idea of being on his knees was new to you-- and it gave you a good opportunity to introduce a growing interest of yours.

He was of course grumpy to be directed back up to stand.

It came out mostly in the form of his arms catching you before you could replace him on the floor.

"What- What are you doing?" His cool demeanor failed horribly.

You craved to see the way he got all huffy and sensitive again at your touch. The furthest you'd gotten so far regarding his pleasure were two brief hand jobs.

A gentle, yet firm rub of your palm on his clothed erection eased his doubt. His hold twitched into something softer and his chest puffed out.

"Relax, Tsukki," You cooed with a small peck to his jaw, "I just wanna try something."

He had horrible stamina, it felt quite complimentary to your abilities. You wanted to see how long he'd last when you were actually trying. He slowly allowed you the freedom to drop down to your knees.

There was just one problem.

He was so far away in this position. Not even just his head, which really did look like it was a mile up- but his hips were not where they needed to be.

His legs took up so much of his height, you were shocked to just now be noticing.

Confused, yet determined to make this work, you tugged on him.

"I'm... not squatting," Tsukishima bit back the humor bubbling beneath the surface just for you.

He watched you glance around the room for anything to put under your knees. A bit disinterested in finishing too quickly, he didn't allow you much time to think beyond a few more unproductive seconds.

"Probably for the best," He muttered, brought you up to stand, and glanced over your impossibly cute disappointment, "'M too sweaty for that."

It was a fair reason to be hesitant, but did nothing to ease your dismay. It was short-lived though, because his fingers flitting over your ribs gave a new intensity to your better-hidden desire.

He stepped between your legs and leaned forward, forcing you to take a stumbly step back. The back of your knees hit the heavy stack of training mats and left you no option but to sit.

For all you knew, his excuse could've been a clever cover-up to get to his preferred method of foreplay.

If there was anything he picked up the best from your weeks of scattered and fervent physical rendezvous, it was eating you out. The pride of making you cum on his tongue completely consumed him for the days following.

It was so strong at practice that Kageyama would often identify his newfound, difficult confidence in a series of angry disputes.

"You should lay down," Heavy-lidded eyes flickered over that validating look on your face that told him you just couldn't wait to be under his skilled tongue.

You fell into a rhythm whenever his courage found him again; once he believed he was good at something, he put 100% of his effort into it. This was, to your delight, one of those lucky instances.

Warm, wet, rushed kisses over your tummy preceded the skilled and subtle slide of your shorts and panties to the floor.

He knew what you liked. A rough grip around your thighs and a gentle, teasing kiss over your sex.

"So wetalready," He mumbled against you, prepping you for that addictive slide of his tongue from your entrance to your clit.

"A-ah," You failed to bite back a broken sound.

A combination of embarrassment to eclipsing pleasure left your thighs flexing against his grasp.

At the foreign feeling of something a bit hard, a bit uncomfortable, you realized--

"You're-- mmn-, glasses," You tried to communicate.

Completely deaf and unconcerned with the process or any words that didn't express how good he felt, he let your shaky, clumsy hand remove them.

He knew how to be just cocky enough to make you squirm. This gentle, endearing action inspired him to start swirling some soft circles around your clit.

"God," You choked, "That's soo fucking good..."

You rested them next to you and opted for your fingers in his fluffy blond hair.

It did help him, though. He felt them getting a bit crooked when he started, but didn't want to let you go and interrupt his flow. Now he could lean more freely.

Another rough kiss and your body curled in response- he kept your thighs, despite their straining, where he wanted them.

"Mm-!" You whined at his strength and tenderness all at once. Your mind couldn't help but wonder how that translated to his cock.

It must've been tough, since most of your bedroom activities centered around making out, eating you out once he fell in love with it, and the couple of times you made him cum with just your hand in record time.

Little to your knowledge, he was committing your visits to memory by getting off before and after. Not to mention nearly every morning now, and after the practices you couldn't be with him after. It was a pretty chronic addiction.

He lapped up the excess wet and used it as extra, completely unnecessary lubrication for his gentle, steady assault on you.

It edged you so close to finishing you had to tug him up by the roots.

"Tsukki- a-ah, I'm-,"

His chin dripped in lewd clear, his eyes bordering on mean how he squinted (blind) up at your interruption.

Ohh, fuck.

Despite hating the premature ending, even his contentious personality couldn't deny that pouty, needy expression on such a pretty face.

He only had a moment to wipe off the drool, amongst other substances, from his chin, as you pulled him in.

"I need you- so bad," You begged between hot kisses and his preferential taste for sucking just under your ear.

You heard him quite clearly stop breathing for a moment.

"Yeah?" He rasped, hardly a trace of brown in his sparkling eyes. The generous bulge prodding against you from his athletic shorts was a welcome challenge.

His body weighed on you as he smashed his lips into yours, clumsy and enthusiastic and wanton. Your legs wrapped around his waist and stirred a shaky groan from his throat.

That vivid print crammed against your pussy gave you a very bleak, disheartening reminder.

Your brow furrowed and you pushed a bit on his chest.

Highly sensitive to this small act of rejection, he took nearly all of his weight off of you at once.

Quick on the uptake though, you explained, "I-, I really do want you, it's just- I'm not comfortable doing this without a condom."

The epic battle playing in his head halted at once.

His eyes lit up wide, but his voice was as flat as usual, "I have one."

Confusion, relief, and chiefly the excitement between your legs took over all at once.

You laughed, leaning up to give him a smiley, lustful kiss, "Since when are you so optimistic?"

He returned it with an ardent, brief passion and tore himself away to collect his wallet from the floor. There was no extra inflection nor amorous implication to his words as he responded.

"Since you."

In a way, it almost sobered you up. The matter-of-fact statement was somehow new and old news, but hearing him declare it, instead of a mere suggestion, built a bridge you didn't realize you were still missing.

You got up to a kneel on the mats and pulled him in for a softer and appreciative kiss. He wore a little confused smile when you pulled away, but didn't question you.

Between you was the condom pinched between his index and middle finger. The thumb on his other hand was hooked under his waistband.

"Can you-," He looked away from you, bashful with a cute frown.

"Show you?"

A tiny nod.

There was no doubt in your mind for how you wanted to take him.

"Get on your back for me, baby," You mumbled against his lips with a fleeting kiss.

Stiff with nerves from your self-assuredness, he swiped off the rest of his clothes and put his back to the sticky vinyl-covered mat. You weren't aware of the curious tilt your head gave as you settled above him, but it spurred a whole-body shiver in him.

"You see the little rim? And how, if I turn it upside down, it's not the same?"

He squinted only for a millisecond before grabbing around for his glasses -adorable- and gave a nod when he saw what you meant.

"It's like a contact," He muttered.

You nodded, carefully picking up his hard-on enough to slide the thing on. He watched, learned, intently how you managed to do this.

"If you put it on the wrong way, it's more likely to slip off."

Your hips slid up over his now-safe dick. He was silently relieved he could feel just a fraction less with it on, because you looked too damn good perched up on him like that. No way he'd be lasting very long.

Dropping to your elbows, you gave him another soft kiss and took his glasses off again with a chuckle.

"I can't watch you?" He muttered, finding your eyes now that he couldn't see as well. That was your goal; he always gave you better eye contact when he couldn't tell his left from right.

"Mm-mm," You hummed against his cheek, positioning him against your aching pussy.

It was all on your accord to take him as you liked. He was too smart to move before he knew you wanted him to.

That didn't stop the grip on you from getting twitchy and hard, nor his unrestrained sounds.

"Augh-aha, jesus--, fuck..." Awe flashed across his face for a moment, quickly overshadowed by a deeply furrowed brow and an unwavering, adoring stare.

You seethed, eyes rolling back at his size filled you up. There was heavenly electricity he somehow pushed through your entire body. Even your fingers were buzzing.

His hip-work was a bit confused, but it was charming, slow, and good for a start when you suggested that he move.

"That feel good?" You breathed, shaky, but wanting to know all of his thoughts. As if he wasn't wearing it all over his face.

He was coated in sweat- you were, too, because there was no cooling in here, but he was distractingly so. The side of his face glistened in the orange-hued room.

"Fuc-k, ye-ah..." He wore an open-mouthed half-smirk as he admired your slick body sit up on his cock and ride him.

You kept your palms on his chest to support yourself, head leaning to the side as you focused on taking him. He kept his touch on your thighs light now, since he didn't want to risk fucking anything about this perfect performance up.

A hand slipped from his chest and to your own needy clit- you gasped and let out a quiet moan, bucking a little at the feeling.

You had no idea how much you needed it. After his tongue, the grinding, and how he started matching your own preferred pace, that thrilling, pleasant strain deep inside of you grew at an irresponsible rate.

"That's--s' hot," He choked, eyes narrowed and glued to the sight of your swirling fingers.

"Hm?" You smiled and moved both hands to the sides of his head, mistaking his admission to mean a more general vibe.

His breath stalled with effort as he bottomed out and stayed there.

He guided your hand back and pressed it between your legs again.

You sat a bit up again so you could better chase that high, tingly with an acceptable amount of embarrassment of being watched like that. You were practically edging yourself at this point and his gaze was threatening to throw you off the edge.

Those massive, sweat-slicked hands filled once more with the plush of your hips. He was struggling to keep his eyes open to watch, but managed alright.

"You-gotta teach me,h-ah- sometime," His bottom lip caught between his teeth as his focus tunnelled on the filthy sight of his own rough hold and his cock sliding in and out of your cunt.

He was a fast learner. His strokes were less shaky now, and grew more confident by the second. It may have been partially due to the fact that he knew you could take him, which just drew him closer to orgasm.

You could ride and listen to him all day, if it wasn't for your own body's limited capacity for the way he was taking you.

"Why don't I--mmn! Teach- you- ah, now?" You made him look at you again, a favorite maneuver of yours now, only just barely clawing to a paper-thin veil of poise to torture him with, over a quickly approaching climax.

"'Cause, I'm gonna cum before I figure it o-ut," Tsukishima sigh-laughed and moved one hand to your lower back.

It brought you down to your elbows. From here, he could kiss you hard and hit at a deeper angle- it was messy and rough and uncalculated; astoundingly hot coming from him.

Tsukishima never let himself act that way. It was a telltale sign that he was coming completely undone.

That hold on your hips hardened, his nails digging into you as his groans gradually started turning into whines and curses.

"F-uck--! Mmn- ha-h-ah," He cried softly on your lips as he came, panting like a dog.

Those unabashed, vulnerable sounds seized your heart and your pussy, and soon you found yourself not close behind, thanks to the fact that he didn't stop fucking you even after he came.

Shaky fingers scratched at his neck and shoulders, clinging like a lifeline. White-hot waves crashed over you as he drowned the rest of your sounds in another sloppy, worshiping kiss.

The gym was so quiet when neither of you were making any noise.

There was the hum of cicadas outside, but not even the fans were turning. It was just your laden breathing in here.

Slowly, you were able to see more of him on the backend of that shared high. Your head buzzed with the comfort and warmth his body provided you. His heavy arms squeezed around your middle.

It looked like he was swimming in satisfaction with a familiar, smug smile on his lips and closed eyes.

"Mm, you gonna look at me, pretty boy?" You rubbed the laughable amount of sweat around on his tummy and chest.

A deep shade of red returned to his cheeks. You grinned.

"Pretty?" He repeated in a scoff.

He'd come to appreciate it more, because, "It's true. You are pretty."

Sure, he sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes, but he wouldn't be so embarrassed if he didn't see a little truth in it.

It was getting a bit cold, now that you weren't so worked up anymore.

"Shit...we've gotta clean this place up."

There was a quiet beat between you.

For a very slow and hesitant 30 seconds, you gripped the rim of the condom on his still rock-hard cock and slid off of him with a shudder. He remembered that maneuver for next time.

You climbed off of the mat and began putting on your clothes. The gym around you felt 300 times bigger than it actually was.

After figuring out how to take it off without getting drenched in his own cum, he tied it and observed the thing for a second. Then, he slid -yeah, slid- to the corner of the mat and stayed seated while he watched you get dressed.

Now you had even more to put away and wipe down, because Tsukishima left a 6 foot long pool of sweat on the mat. He wore a devious smirk.

"Since I'm the one competing in Nationals tomorrow, I think I'll just leave you to it--"

"You better get your lanky ass up right now," You swatted him with your shirt and he broke out into a playful grin as he heaved himself up and snatched it from you.

Now when he stood over you, it felt thrilling instead of threatening. He fixed the twist in your bra strap without looking away from your eyes.

He kept the shirt far out of your reach while he stole a kiss, "I'll help as long as you clean like this."

taglist:

TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT AND REPLIES!! the energy here was so great! requests are open!

@v15aexe @hotvinimon @cyzvx @aloveablechaos @kozumesphone

@beaniedoodz @idiotboys @djmoyolehuani @ilovemymomscooking

@imiqz @vierciale @sukunassaltysack @garlicbread9104 @awkwardaardvarkforever

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velvetm00light · 7 months

Text

Drunken Confessions

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: drunk&dom!Spencer Reid x sub!Female Reader

Summary: After a night out at the bar, Spencer drunkenly tells his coworker, Y/n, how he feels about her. She's shown the side of him no one knows as they go to his apartment together and show each other exactly how they feel.

Warnings: Alcohol, PinV, fluff, coworkers, domxsub, smut.

A/N: First attempt at a one-shot. This honestly went in a different direction than I actually planned for and I'm not mad about it. I hope ya'll enjoy. ;)

GLASSES CLINK NOISLY AS the Behavioral Analysis Unit team of the Federal Bureau of Investigation cheers each other over the too small wooden table inside their favored bar for after-work drinks. They had just gotten back from a particularly gruesome case and all agreed to try and let loose for the night. They even managed to get their innocent boy wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid, to tag along.

Music thundered around the bar, y/n's feet feeling the vibrations through the hardwood floor beneath her. It was almost impossible to hear each other over the music, so they all had to result to either yelling or not using their words at all.

JJ basically jumps from her seat and yells across the table, "time to dance!" Y/n, Emily, and Penelope wasted no time rising from their seats and rushing onto the dance floor, the boys decidedly choosing to stay at the table.

Emily has made the point multiple times before that they reason they all choose not to dance is most likely because they're embarrassed of their dancing skills and it might just kill them to make a fool of themselves in front of strangers. Even though Morgan swears he actually dances like a "sex god" per his own words, he is perfectly fine sitting his married ass down and sipping on a nice cocktail.

The girls waste no time getting down to business on the dance floor as the boys at the table talk, well, more like yell, amongst themselves. Despite only having a single drink, in which he is currently still nursing, Spencer finds his eyes gluing themselves to y/n. The way she gracefully moves her body to the rhythm of the music, the flow of her hair behind her, stray pieces already beginning to stick to the nape of her neck and shoulders.

"Earth to Reid."

Spencer's attention snaps away from y/n's mesmerizing moves and stares at Morgan. A heat creeps up his neck and into his cheeks, feeling like a kid caught red-handed.

"Go dance with her. You're oogling her and I won't be surprised if you started to drool had I not said anything." Morgan was reveling in the fact that Spencer finally couldn't deny what the entire team pretty much already knew, a smirk on his face as he tilted his head in y/n's direction.

"Absolutely not!" Spencer cried, already feeling the second hand embarrassment. His too long limbs cause a great deal of trouble every time he's ever attempted to dance. He can't imagine making that big of a fool of himself in front of the girl he's been developing a crush on ever since she joined the Bureau.

"You've got to take life by the balls, kid. How do you expect her to know you're pretty much in love with her, if you tell her?"

"What? I'm not in love with her," Spencer argues, knowing damn well his actions rat him out as a total liar.

"Fine, have a few more drinks and then let me know how you feel." Morgan gets another round of drinks and pushes two new, full rum and cokes in front of Spencer. "Try not to take an hour to drink these, kid."

Deciding he could actually do with some liquid courage, he downs the first drink. The instant burn of the heavy handed pour sliding down his throat causes a war within his stomach and he instantly regrets it. He's not used to alcohol and alcohol definitely does not tend to agree with him. But hell, who is he kidding? He might be better off getting so drunk he finally tells her how he feels and doesn't remember doing it to save him from the embarrassment likely to follow.

Y/n and the girls are in the middle of a pretty heated dance battle together when Spencer stumbles onto the dance floor.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is wonder boy coming to dance with us?"

The women immediately stop their dancing and turn towards where the man himself is carefully weaving through the crowd towards them. "I thought I might join you guys,"

"Please do!" Y/n shouts over the music. The women instantly resuming their dancing and Spencer immediately feels at ease. He's unsure if it's the multiple rum and cokes he downed just a few minutes ago or if it's because the women begin dancing like lunatics without a care in the world. He joins in without hesitation.

They all dance the night away together, y/n and Spencer laughing with each other as they sing and dance together, him spinning her across the dance floor, and on occasion them getting so close he almost took the risk to kiss her.

As the night gets darker, the bar gets emptier, and swear pours down their entire bodies, they finally make their way back to the table.

"You looked great out there, kid." Morgan chuckled, sipping the last of his drink.

"I think this was the best night of my life," Spencer smiled. For a brief moment, y/n and Spencer's gazes caught each other and they shared wide, toothy smiles. The tension between them so palpable you could cut it with a knife. As if realizing it, the rest of the team says their goodnights and leave y/n and Spencer to their own devices at their littered table.

"I'll drive you home," y/n suggests, fishing into her purse for her keys as they make their ways toward the parking lot. "Before you ask, no I'm not drunk. I haven't even been able to touch a drink most of the night because I was obviously too busy getting down and dirty."

Spencer smiled down at her, "Thank you, I would appreciate that very much."

They climb into her car together, and Spencer instantly heats up at the proximity and the fact that they're alone. As she starts up her car and focuses on pulling out of the bar parking lot without hitting drunk pedestrians, Spencer is compelled by the very essence of her. His eyes greedily roam over her from her lush, lip glossed lips to her sweat slick hair sticking to her neck, to her perfectly formed nose. He drinks in each and every one of her features, truly unable to find a single flaw on her.

The short, red dress she's dressed in hugs her curves perfectly, her long legs teasing him as they move back and forth from gas pedal to brake and back again. Desire courses through his blood and feels as if it might boil him from the inside out if he doesn't act upon it.

"You know what's crazy?"

"What, Spence?"

"I've had a crush on your for years and I've been way too scared to tell you." He bursts into a laugh and y/n's breath catches in her throat. She doesn't even consider allowing herself to believe he's telling the truth, because out of all people, why her?

"You're drunk, Spence."

"You know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts."

Her whole body tingles as her grip tightens on the steering wheel. Her core feels molten at the desire pooling at the bottom of her stomach as it has been all night. Even when he was dancing like an absolute goof, he was still the hottest man she's ever seen in her life. The entire night, all she could do was wish the moment would last forever, Spencer spinning her across the dance floor, their faces being inches away from each other. She almost gave in and kissed him every single time she could feel his panting breath on her face.

"I mean it, you know. Ever since you joined the Bureau, I've just had this...pull to you. You're seriously the most mesmerizing, brilliant, generous, exquisite woman I've ever met in my life. I ache to be near you every single time you leave. I ache to kiss those beautiful lips every single time you talk, or when you bite your bottom lip when you're nervous, or when we'll sometimes accidentally get so close to each other it almost just makes sense to grab you by the chin and kiss you."

Y/n is dazed after his revelation. Her heart begins to beat so rapidly in her chest she swears it might just burst through her ribs and out of her body completely. "I-Are you sure you're not just drunk, Spence?"

"Oh, I'm drunk. But I'm just saying the things sober me would have never said in a million years," he smiles at her. She catches his gaze for a moment, wide-eyed and absolutely dumbfounded, before quickly returning her gaze to the road in front of her. "I was always afraid you would never feel the same, and I guess the suffering of never telling you how I felt was a better option than telling you how I felt, you not feeling the same, and then our entire friendship is ruined. I don't think I could bear losing you."

"Spence.." Y/n chokes out. "Let's talk about this inside."

She swiftly pulls into a parking spot outside Spencer's apartment and they both rush inside. As y/n shuts the door softly behind her, she whirls around and almost slams into Spencer.

Before she can do anything, she's backed up against his apartment door, his hands above each side of her head, trapping her. "This doesn't make you uncomfortable, does it?" He asks softly.

"No," y/n manages to breathe out.

"Good, then hopefully this doesn't either."

Before she can ask what he means, he greedily crashes his lips into hers. A small moan escapes her lips as he takes her bottom lip between his teeth and tugs roughly. The opening of her lips gives Spencer the chance he was hoping for and she readily accepts his tongue as hers dances along. The kiss between them is greedy and hungry, the built up tension between them finally snapping.

She's pushed completely into the wall by Spencer's towering body. He bends down slightly, reaching for the back of her legs. He pulls her off the floor, and wraps her legs around his waist without breaking the ensuing passionate kiss.

She feels his body move beneath her as he grinds up into her. A whimper escapes from her and passes into Spencer's mouth which only causes him to grind against her center again, his arousal evident.

She removes her arms from around his neck and fumbles for his belt. She swiftly unbuckles him and pulls out his hardening length. She slides her hands slowly up and down, teasing small moans from his lips.

Before she can even react, he's pushed the hem of her dress up to her waist. He finally breaks the kiss and says, "How wet do you think you'll be for me?"

"Why don't you check for yourself," she purrs, attacking his lips, their tongues once again battling for dominance.

He groans at the pleasure and the desire in her reply, wasting no time pulling her panties to the side and sliding a finger between her lips. "God, you're so wet for me," he breathes in her mouth before tugging on her bottom lip once again.

He removes her hands from him and slams her hands above her head, his hands on her wrists to keep her from budging. "Are you going to take it like a good girl?" He murmurs.

"Yes," y/n manages to get out.

"Yes, sir," he scolds.

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl."

Without another word, he lines up underneath her and gently pushes into her core. He can feel her throbbing against him as he eases into his movements. "Oh my god," she whimpers. Spencer releases her swollen lips and trails kisses down her jaw and neck as he thrusts hungrily into her, his hands solid against her wrists.

He releases one hand from her wrist and commands, "Do not lower your arm."

"Yes, sir."

He lowers the neckline of her dress, exposing her breasts taut from the desire coursing through her. He sucks on the skin of her breasts, leaving his marks along her chest. He takes her nipple into his mouth, using his tongue and teeth to play with it, perfectly mixing the right amount of pain with her pleasure.

He pounds into her harder as he works her nipples. Her rising climax becoming almost unbearable.

"Don't cum unless I give you permission."

"But-"

"You heard me."

"Yes, sir."

Y/n's body moves in tandem with his as if their bodies unconsciously know this dance together between their sweating bodies. His thrusting doesn't cease or stutter, the euphoric feeling of him perfectly hitting her aching spot sends her eyes rolling.

"Please," she chokes out. Her head pushed back against the door, her back arched off the door as if instinctively reaching out for Spencer's body. Spencer releases the nipple in his mouth and returns his ravenous gaze to hers.

"Come for me, baby."

Their lips join together again as he pumps harder, the both of them chasing their releases. She can't help but cry out at the ecstasy that overtakes her as she falls over the edge, Spencer following with his own.

Y/n's entire body trembles against the door, both of their breaths heavy and mixing with each others.

He lets her down gently from the door. "How about we take a bath and wash up," he suggests, need written all over his face. Y/n nods, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.

Spencer helps her into the bathroom, smiling at himself for being the reason she can barely walk. He wastes no time getting a bath started and they lower themselves into the tub without waiting for it to completely fill up.

She moans as the hot water soothes her muscles.

"Relax all you want right now because I'm not done with you yet."

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