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miihho · 8 months ago

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"𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆"

— 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: If you don't want your butler to reach a breaking point and take matters into his own hands by 'disciplining' you, perhaps refrain from behaving like a spoiled brat next time.

— 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rough sex , unprotected sex , brat!reader , overstimulation , bttm male reader , blowjob , smacking , swearing , dirtytalk , praise , manhandling , dirty talk , age gap , virgin!reader , making out , degradation , petnames , non con , public sex.

PART 1 , PART 2

You were furious. Shattering objects around your room, you turned your once pristine chamber into a chaotic mess. Your anger overflowed onto everyone around you, shouting and unleashing abuse.

After that, you broke down. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped the bed sheets, sprawled on your royal bed still clad in your sleepwear.

You were M/n, the prince! How could you have stooped so low as to beg someone, especially a butler? It was utterly humiliating! What would your father and mother say if they discovered your shameful behavior?

Your father had placed a heavy burden upon your shoulders, entrusting you with the future of the empire. He had envisioned you as a paragon of strength, resilience, and dominance. However, you found yourself succumbing to the influence of a mere butler. His admonitions reverberated in your mind like a relentless echo.

"Do not disappoint me. Be strong and wield the sword with skill, just as your brother does. My time wanes, and the throne shall be yours upon my passing. Fail me not, M/n, lest I consider another heir."

These words were etched into your very being, a constant weight upon your conscience. You vowed not to falter. You would rise above this moment of weakness and prove yourself worthy of the crown he had bestowed upon you.

Your cries were silent, hidden from the world. You couldn't bear the thought of anyone discovering your weakness, fearing it would tarnish your reputation and redefine how others perceived you. You couldn't afford to be seen as anything less than the strong and dominant M/n they expected.

You couldn't let your mother and father see this side of you. No one could know your vulnerability. But that butler had already glimpsed your submissive nature, a betrayal you couldn't forgive.

Clutching the bedsheets tighter, you vowed to exact punishment upon him. But how? The question gnawed at you as you plotted your next move.

"Your Highness?"

Your eyes widened as you recognized that voice. It was that damned butler! Quickly, you got up from your bed and hurried to the door without thinking. With a rush of irritation, you swung it open and came face-to-face with that annoying face you despised.

"You asshole! How dare you show your face in front of me!? Get out of my sight, I never wish to see you here ever again!" you yelled, your voice trembling with anger.

He stared down at you, his yellow eyes cold and calculating as they scanned your face. "That's such a shame, Your Highness," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "You'll be seeing me more often."

"W—what the heck do you mean by that!?" you demanded, your bewilderment evident in your tone.

"Your mother," he began, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction, "heard about your recent behavior and was quite shocked. When she saw that I possess the proper manners and decorum you seem to lack, she decided I would be the perfect candidate to be your new etiquette teacher." His words hung in the air, leaving you stunned and speechless.

You chuckled nervously, hoping it was some twisted joke. "H-hey... Tell me you're joking. Y-you're joking, right!?" Desperation seeped into your voice as you grabbed his collar harshly, trying to shake the truth out of him.

"I'm afraid not," he replied calmly, his smirk unwavering. "She found out about your behavior towards the maids and your lack of manners, Your Highness."

Anger flared within you at his words, and you tightened your grip on his collar. "So what if I have no manners!? I couldn't care less about those worthless maids! Those 'foods' are nothing but garbage. We don't eat slop like that; it's disgusting! They should've been kicked out of this castle ages ago! Just like you! Just a lowly butler who's probably good at nothing, maybe just some trash my father picked up!" you spat.

"Your words only confirm why I'm here. Perhaps it's time you learned the value of respect and humility your highness."

"No! Fuck off asshole!" you exclaimed, but he paid no heed to your protests. With a swift motion, he forcefully removed your grip on his collar and seized your wrist in a tight grip, his hold unyielding.

You struggled against his grasp, but it was futile. With a determined stride, he barged into your room, his grip still firm as he flung you to the unforgiving floor. A sharp hiss escaped your lips as pain shot through your body upon impact.

As you lay there, vulnerable and in pain, you watched helplessly as he closed the door behind him and locked it, sealing you both in.

He glared down at you, his eyes a piercing yellow that sent shivers down your spine.

"Shall we begin the lesson with your mouth, Your Highness?" His words were laced with a commanding tone as he strode towards you.

"My mouth!? What do you mean by my mouth? Stay away, you filthy vermin!" You attempted to rise, but your legs failed you, leaving you vulnerable on the floor.

With a smirk that sent a chill down your spine, he loomed over you, seizing your chin to meet his gaze forcibly.

"You have such beautiful eyes your highness. Staring at me like that turns me on." he declared, as your gaze involuntarily dropped to his pants, where a noticeable bulge had formed.

"Do you want to see it? See how I'm going to lecture that mouth of yours?" His tone was both mocking and tantalizing as he began to undo his belt, the metallic clink resonating in the tense silence of the room.

"N-no, no! I don't want to see your icky meat!" you protested, but your words fell on deaf ears as he proceeded to remove his belt and push down his underwear.

Your eyes widened in shock as his erect member was revealed before you, Tall and pale white with a crimson hue at the tip, it stood proudly before you, veins pulsing along its length as it throbbed with anticipation.

"It's yours," he declared, his voice thick with desire, "all yours for you to see anytime and anywhere, Your Highness."

"W-wha—?" Your attempt at a coherent response was abruptly stifled as he seized your head, thrusting his cock into your mouth with an aggressive force that left you gasping for air. The sudden intrusion hit the back of your throat, eliciting a choked gurgle of surprise as your eyes widened in shock.

Instinctively, you reached out, grasping onto his thighs for support as you struggled to accommodate his size. Sweat beaded on his brow as he grunted in satisfaction, relishing the sight of you adjusting to his relentless penetration. His grip tightened on your hair, adding to the sensation of his control over you.

"Mhmm, that's a good boy... Taking me all in," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he watched you with a predatory gaze.

"Ngh... Let's begin the lesson, Your Highness." With a deliberate motion, he began to withdraw his cock from your mouth, only to slam it back in with a force that stole your breath away. Your grip on his thighs tightened as tears welled in your eyes, a mixture of pain and submission washing over you as you surrendered to his will.

He moaned in ecstasy, throwing his head back as the overwhelming sensations consumed him. The warmth of your mouth enveloped him, the slickness of your saliva adding to the intensity of his pleasure. With each thrust, he felt himself sinking deeper into bliss, utterly lost in the euphoria of the moment.

As he gazed down at you, he couldn't help but marvel at the sight before him. Your furrowed brows, the blush that painted your cheeks, the subtle bulge he noticed in your pants – it was all too much, too perfect. In this moment, you belonged to him and him alone.

"Kick and claw all you like. Scream. Hit me. Curse the fuck out of me. Only you can do that to me and not to anyone else, i don't want your attention to go to anyone but me. You don't belong to anyone but me, M/n. Only me." he declared, his words laced with a possessive fervor as he continued to thrust into your mouth, each motion driving him closer to the edge.

As you gasped for breath, he withdrew his cock from your mouth allowing you a moment to recover. Relief flooded through you as you gulped in air, your chest heaving with the effort while a smirk was playing on his lips as he observed your struggle.

With a cruel chuckle, he grasped his cock firmly in his hand and lightly slapped your flushed cheeks with it, Your glare met his amused gaze. Chuckling softly as he seemed to revel in your reaction.

"Day to dusk, I'm going to fuck that bratty attitude out of you, so you better be ready, your Highness."

#male x male reader #male reader smut #x male reader #bottom male reader #bttm male reader #sub male reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #smut #male reader insert #brat reader #mlm ns/fw #yaoi

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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^^ Hello, how are you. Idk if this is the right place to send a request since I’m new to tumblr lol. I would like to make a request though it may seem a little weird. May I request Miguel O’Hara/Fem Spider-barbie reader. Reader’s outgoing and cheerful she has the aesthetic of a Barbie and gets along with other spiders, she’s not actual barbie doll btw lol. Miguel could be yelling and giving other spiders a hard time but whenever Spider Barbie’s around he’s the complete opposite. Spider barbie always helps calm him down whenever he loses his temper. Maybe one day he’s stressed and angry over a mission so spider barbie decides to calm him down with a back massage. Could also lead to some smut, only if you’re okay with writing that. No pressure. Thanks! ^^

miguel o'hara stars in... 'HI BARBIE! HI KEN!' ヽ(>∀<☆)

a/n ~ first request!!1!! i'm doing great, thank you so much. this isn’t weird at all- i spent all day writing this, it's so cute!! i had margot robbie's cowgirl fit in mind for reader when i was writing this, she's so beautiful omg, i think it suits spider-barbie's vibe really well💕 went a bit heavy with the smut but miguel's hot so it's valid- enjoy my love!

summary; miguel gets some stress relief from his favourite barbie girl.

pairing; miguel o’hara x fem!spider-barbie!reader

wc; 2.3k +

cw; SMUT!!, pining, oral sex, dry humping, facial, throat/face-fuckin, soft?dom!miguel, sub!reader, he's a lil mean but he loves you, praise kink, worshiping, hair pulling, miguel shouts at some people, f!masturbation, squirtinnn, miguel being sexy, NOT PROOFREAD!! i have a headache

“and you didn’t think to fucking report it to me?” miguel was seething, talons digging stripes into his desk as he glared down at the poor recruits below him. yes, they were new, but they fucked up an important mission- he wasn’t about to go easy on them.

“por el amor de dios, do you three have any idea how serious this is? you could’ve-“ the spiders looked at each other, eyes of their masks comically wide as the drown out miguel’s rants to try and come up with some sort of excuse to justify the failed mission. “-and don’t even think about coming up with some bullshit excuse.”

they froze, shaking their heads and hands rapidly as they nervously stuttered out, ‘no, of course not’, and, ‘we would never, boss’- miguel’s disapproving gaze boring holes into their masks, he jumps off the platform and stalks up to them. menacingly looming over them as his eyes flash red, lips pulled up in a snarl as his sharp fangs poke out under his top lip.

“don’t let this happen again, cause i swear i’ll-”suddenly, the doors of his lab slide open, a cheery voice ringing through the spacious room as all eyes flit towards the pink figure strutting in. the recruits blush under their masks, hearts beating rapidly at the sight of the sparkly spider- known across the spiderverse as the most perfect spider, spider barbie.

“miguel? i brought you some lunch! oh- hi guys! sorry i didn’t mean to interrupt, i’m y/n, by the way.” you flash them a bright smile, glossy, plump lips glistening under the lights as you hold up the bag of food- the spiders wave frantically, greeting you with unmatched enthusiasm. miguel’s breath hitches at the sight of you, masking it with a roll of his eyes as he looks down at you- eyes softer compared to the harshness they had when looking at the recruits.

“it’s fine, y/n, we were done here anyway.” that was their cue to leave, the newbies scrambling to get out of the room, feeling the tension rising, but not without sending you shy smiles and whispered goodbyes you reciprocate with angelic kindness. miguel watches you intently, eyes locked on your every move. his eyes trail down the hot pink set you wore, the fat of your tits spilling out the tight top, curvy hips accentuated by the tightness of your flares - fuck, you are perfect.

he lets out a heavy sigh, his bulking frame towering over you as he takes the bag gently from your pretty hands, making sure to brush over them slightly. “what’d you get me this time, hm? empanadas again?” he has a crooked smirk on his lips as he opens the bag, his eyes still trained on you as you sit on the counter, the prettiest smile on your face. “actually, i got you some sushi this time. thought i should surprise you a little.”

he allows himself to smile, the tension in his face easing in your presence. “yeah? how’d y’know i’d like sushi? you keeping tabs on me?” you giggle, stealing a piece of sushi from the platter. “wouldn’t you like to know. i asked lyla, actually, she’s very helpful.” his eyebrow raises, glancing over at the glowing hologram who appears to be lounging by the monitors, a small smile on her face hidden by a small magazine.

“right, guess i’m gonna have to install a ‘keep your fuckin’ mouth shut’ feature now.” he mutters, secretly enjoying the thought of you knowing things about him he wouldn’t dare to tell anyone if they asked, relishing in the thread of connection you two share. you stand, moving around him to stand behind him, stretching up to grip his shoulders.

“you ok, miguel? you seemed upset earlier.” you whisper in his ear, hands running down his arms innocently. he doesn’t think so though, the soft touch of your hands compared to his firm muscles igniting a tingling feeling in his belly - a soft groan leaving his parted lips as he leans into your touch. “‘m fine, the new recruits just pissed me off. nothin’ f’r you to worry ‘bout, pretty.” you smile slightly as he lets the pet name slip out, your hands running more sensually around his upper body, dipping into the crevices and curves of his chiseled body.

“let me at least help you feel better, mig, your shoulders are tense as fuck.” you smirk playfully, leaning round his body to peer up at his face, eyes widening as you take him in. his eyes were slightly hooded, wetted lips open in pleasure, a faint tinge of red on his face. he looks down at you, panting softly as he sucks in a deep breath, nodding silently as he allows you to lead him wherever.

gently grasping his hand in yours, you lead him towards his large chair, sitting him down as you slide yourself in his lap. miguel’s head races with all sorts of thoughts, the tell tale sign of his arousal pressing against the crotch of your sparkling pants, his hands subtly moving you down to ease the ache in his lap. your lips pull into a empathetic pout, hands moving gracefully along the taut muscles of his shoulder blades, moving down to the ridges of his abs.

“how’s this feel? am i doing good?” the sweet tone in which you speak has him biting back a growl, his cock throbbing as he moves subtly against the plush folds of your cunt through the fabric. “ ‘s great, your- shit- your hands feel amazing, love. jus’…keep doing that, yeah?” you nod, biting your lip softly as you keep up your soft caresses. his head falls back against the chair, eyes closed in bliss- he looks so unbelievably handsome, sculpted jawline, high cheekbones, he’s just so mmh.

you couldn’t help yourself, not when he was practically offering you a taste of him. his thick neck, littered with veins of various sizes, laid bare for you. you slowly moved in, small breaths warming the skin of his neck, heart pumping and hands trembling slightly. your glossy lips press light kisses on the flesh, shiny, pink, marks left behind. one hand moves up to rest on his chest as you feel a surge of boldness rush through you, leaning in once again to suckle on his skin.

his eyes flit open, gazing down at you as you mark his neck with deep red and purple bruises, his hand lazily running up your spine as he grinds into you just a little harder. “hm? what happened to givin’ me a massage?” he flashes you a sexy grin, tilting his head at your ministrations- not that he minds of course. you don’t respond, only small moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you continue to suck on his skin. his hand moves down to your chin, lifting your flushed face to meet his. “thought you were supposed to be makin’ me feel better? i can feel that pretty pussy soaking through y’r jeans, love. this turnin’ you on?”

you nod, your beautiful face betraying your need for him. he lets out a deep chuckle, hands caressing your hips as he moves you to grind against him, the thin fabrics of both of your clothes letting you feel the engorged tip of his cock brushing against your clit. he breathes out a stuttered moan, gritting his teeth as he stares into your eyes, how could someone be so fuckin’ perfect? you had to have been made to torture him, to make his heart race and cock hard to every time he’s around you- hell, every time he thinks about you.

“miguel…” your whining snaps him out of his thoughts, his focus immediately zeroes back onto you. he pulls you closer, resting you against his bulky chest. “yeah? what’s up, baby? what d’you want?” his thumbs caress your nipples through the fabric of your top, the rough pads of his fingers making your pussy clench tightly, slick coating your puffy folds. you look up at him, hands pulling at the thin fabric of his suit. “i still wanna make you feel better…can-can i suck you off, please?”

has he died? has miguel died and gone to heaven? or was this some kind of fucked up hell, there was no way he was hearing correctly. you, the sweet, innocent, barbie-esque, spider he’s been silently pining over for months now is asking him, so cutely, to suck his cock. he doesn’t think he’s been as eager to say yes to anything as he was now. he clicks a button on his wrist, his suit glitching away at his crotch. his cock is so pretty. a trail of dark hair leading down his navel, the tip a deep red, the rest tanned, throbbing veins wrapping around his length. it was fat, and shit, it was long too- pre dripping down the side of it as it, twitching the longer you stared at it.

your mouth waters, tongue darting out to lick your lips. your nimble hands wrap around his cock, a small gasp rings out in the room as your thumb runs along his tip, collecting the wetness and rubbing it around the tip. his fangs dig into his lips, speckles of blood pooling underneath the sharp tip. he sinks deeper into the chair, his suit dissipating more to reveal his thick thighs, a large hand coming to rest against one, the other caressing your cheek softly. “gonna wrap those pretty lips around me, baby? ‘m so hard, need you to make me feel better.” he didn’t expect to hear how needy he sounded, but he wasn’t embarrassed, he’s finally got you- and he wants you to know how badly he needs you.

he guides your head towards his aching cock, a hand moving to grip your hair tightly. he angles his length towards your shimmering lips, rubbing the tip all over, smearing his pre-cum along your gloss. a low, rumbling hum reverberates through his chest, quiet curses leaving his lips. he finally forces the fat head of his cock through your lips, simultaneously pushing your head down along the length of his cock. the sounds of you gagging fills his chest with a sense of pride, forcing you to take all of his thickness. it was so, so messy. saliva and creamy strips of cum dripped down the side of his cock, wetting your lips and pooling on top of his balls. he smiles at the sight, head lolling to the side, resting against a hard shoulder.

“my pretty girl, can’t believe ‘m finally havin’ you like this. i- mm i would worship you, if you’d let me. you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, baby, a walkin’ goddess. and your lips, fuck, those perfect lips.” his mind is all scrambled, the feeling of you sucking the soul out of him rendering him a blubbering mess, resulting in him pouring his heart out to you. smiling around his cock, you look up him, those sexy eyes of yours gazing into his- a silent reciprocation of his affection towards you. at that, your lips suction around him faster, tighter, coaxing him into filling your mouth with his load.

his breathing deepens, sweaty chest heaving. at this point, his suit is gone. he doesn’t bother hold back his moans, deep growls and grunts that make curious spiders stop and listen in as they pass his lab, opting to not investigate what the big boss is up to further. but you, you’re a fuckin’ sight between his legs. mascara running down your hot cheeks, gloss, spit, and cum on your chin, running down your neck and between your cleavage. he didn’t think you could get even more beautiful, but here you were.

“i’m ‘bout to cum, yeah? gonna fill that perfect mouth of y’rs with my all my cum, ‘n you’re gonna swallow it like the good girl i know you are, ok baby?” his hips buck frantically into your salacious mouth, holding the back of your neck tightly to keep you anchored at the base of his cock, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. his actions betrayed his sweet words, hands gently running over your face, wiping away stray tears as his cock abuses your poor throat. he catches a glimpse of you sliding a hand down the front of your pants, pushing aside your panties to rub against your sticky clit.

‘so cute’. he smiles, revelling in your soft whimpers and your shaky thighs- the squelch of the three fingers you plunged into you almost drowning out the slick gluck! gluck! gluck! of your throat. “fuck, baby, i can hear her from here. she’s so wet just from suckin’ me off, isn’t she?” your fingers speed up, his voice a sexy, deep drawl- lips quirked back up in a smirk, but it was short lived as he felt his balls tighten, orgasm threatening to take over him.

his leg bounces, your mouth was just so wet, so fuckin’ hot- he couldn’t take it anymore. he’s waited so long to feel you around him, to see you take him so beautifully. his body tenses, a low growl of your name leaving his plump lips. his cum spurts out in steady streams, your cheeks puffing out from the sheer amount he unloads into your mouth. it drips out the side of your lips, you struggle to hold it all in, letting it drip down your neck.

you choke on the liquid in your mouth, your orgasm squirting out onto the cold floor of his lab. he laughs breathlessly, he was so whipped for you. watching his pretty, little, angel cum so perfectly for him. his cock lets out a few more spurts on your cheeks, twitching again when you struggle to swallow his load down. he wipes away the cum on your cheeks, dipping his thumb back into your mouth to let you lick the remnants off. he smiles softly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back onto his lap, running hands up and down your back lovingly.

“s-so, d’you feel better now?”

“mm, think there’s just one more thing i need. spread your legs f’r me, baby.”

*por el amor de dios - for the love of god

-gonna take a cold shower now

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #astv miguel #cheonstapes #cheonstapes-films!🪷#cheonsshowreals 🤍

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feyhunter78 · 9 months ago

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Even If You Call It Love

Description: You are set to leave for Winterfell with Cregan, but Aemond doesn't want to let you go.

Part 1

“I have already had the servants pack the spices you wish the kitchen to use when we arrive, and the Glass Gardens, I will have the gardener clear out a space, you may plant whatever you wish.” Cregan says, his hand in yours as he spins you around, your new cloak—Stark gray and trimmed with fur—flares out around you as he does.

“Thank you, but I would not want to make more work for them.” You protest, smiling up at him as he pulls you into his embrace, lowering his head to brush his lips against yours.

“You are their Lady; they are and will be glad to do it.” He says, before connecting your lips, his hand moving to support your lower back as he dips you, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You cup his cheek, heart skipping a beat when he leans into your touch, his storm gray eyes closing, a blissful smile adorning his face. “If you say so, husband.”

Cregan chuckles, eyes open, staring down at you so lovingly it takes your breath away. “Once we are home, I will show you I make good on my word, wife, and if the gardener has too much work to do then I shall simply clear the space myself.”

“You would get in the dirt and do a servants’ work for me?” You ask, peals of laughter spilling past your lips at the very idea.

“There is an endless list of things I would do for you.” He breathes, his lips brushing yours with each word, punctuating his statement with featherlight promises.

“We shall test that at home then.” You jest, tangling your fingers in his hair, your lips parting instinctually for him when he deepens the kiss.

A servant knocks on Cregan’s door, shattering the moment, and he groans, the vibrations buzzing against your lips.

“Yes?” He calls, kissing the corner of your lips, then the other, then your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, until he has covered the plains of your face with chaste kisses, making you giggle.

“Lord Stark, there are servants preventing us from loading Lady y/h/n’s belongings onto the wagons.” The man calls through the door.

You bite your lip, watching as Cregan’s brows furrow. “One moment.” He says, pulling you back up onto your feet. He presses a kiss to your hand, bidding you to take a seat on the settee, then opens the door and steps outside with the man.

Their conversation is quiet at first, then increases in volume until you can hear each word as clearly as you heard Cregan whisper his affections for you, his lips pressed to your ear only two nights prior.

“I care not what the prince says, he cannot keep my betrothed’s belongings hostage.” Cregan says, his voice is a mountain, sturdy, unyielding, unable to be ignored or burrowed through.

“My Lord, she is a lady of Princess Helaena.” A new voice explains.

“Yes, and the princess has given her blessing, so that is not a shield he can hide behind.” Cregan snarls.

You purse your lips and get up from the settee, toying with Cregan’s ring around your neck. You join the two men outside, placing a hand on Cregan’s bicep. “My love, please, I will speak with him.”

Cregan takes your hand and presses it to his lips once more before turning it in his hand, with such gentleness it makes your heart stutter. “You should not have to trouble yourself with him.”

“And yet, I must.” You say, giving him a reassuring smile.

He sighs and presses his lips to your palm, then your inner wrist, nipping at the pulse point before soothing the sting with the tip of his tongue. “I will escort you there, then we shall depart to see your father and then onwards to Winterfell.”

“I cannot wait.” You say, and you mean, truly, deeply, mean it. You cannot wait to be married to Cregan, to be his wife.

“I will not call off the servants; you are not thinking straight.” Aemond says the moment you enter his solar, his arms clasped behind his back.

“Prince Aemond…” You sigh, moving further into the room, watching as he paces. This is not unlike him, he detests change, and is beyond possessive. Truly you should have seen this coming and had your things moved in the middle of the night, then perhaps you would have been able to slip from the Keep without ever facing him again.

“Aemond, please, call me by my given name, if any shall, it should be you.” He says, stopping before you, a torn expression you have never seen before on his face.

You do not wish to hurt him, you never have, but you can no longer put his feelings before yours.

“I need my things, Aemond, I cannot travel without them.” You say carefully.

“You cannot leave, I have need of you.” His voice is steady, that sense of confidence still lingering, though it is fading fast.

“Need? What need?” You ask, unable to reconcile the man before you with the man who turned you away only two days prior.

“What need? All of them, you are mine, are you not? I simply did not realize how essential you were to my day-to-day life, but I have now, so you cannot leave.”

You bring your hand to the front of your neck as Queen Alicent does, a calming gesture you believe she does not realize she does, but you have picked up, nonetheless. “Aemond, why now? We have been doing this dance for years, I am tired of it, the steps have grown listless, the music dull, the other dancers have left the floor, and I would like to leave with them.”

He reaches for you, fingers curling in the air just beside your cheek. “I have made you wait; it was cruel of me, and I see now it has driven you into the arms of another, but I would end your wait if you would stay.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you close your eyes against his mournful gaze. “You have said that many times, made many promises, how am I to know if you would keep your word?”

“I am a man of my word; how could you question that?” He says softly, his hand finally making contact with your cheek, caressing it gently.

You meet his gaze now, heart heavy, you cannot make him see what he does not wish to, but you will try. “I must question it, for if I do not, I will spend many more years here waiting for you to love me, and I cannot do that, not anymore, not when I kno—”

“That there is a wolf pup willing to chase your skirts and slide into your bed now that you have revealed how truly desperate you are for affection?” His words are harsh, but his tone is still soft, as if he does not think it an insult what he has just said.

Your brow furrows, ice creeping in your veins. “Are you insinuating that Cregan sees me as some kind of whore?”

“It is Cregan already, not Lord Stark or Lord Cregan?” Aemond slides his knuckles down your cheek, your neck, ending at your collarbone, taking care to stop at each mark Cregan has left on your skin even though they are covered with cosmetics. “I am insinuating that he is a beast, and beasts can sense weakness. He is seeking to exploit your weakness, ñuha nūmio.”

“He is not a beast, and he would not do such a thing.” You say, turning your face away from Aemond, your hands buried in your skirts.

He scoffs and picks up the signet ring—Cregan’s signet ring—that hangs from your neck on a sturdy but elegant silver chain. “Why else would he set out to charm you? My dear y/n, you bring no benefit to House Stark, and while you have many wonderful traits, you are not a highly sought after prize by any means.”

You take a step back, Cregan’s ring slipping from his hands and knocking against your breastbone. It is sobering, the cool metal, and it gives you strength. “That is your opinion, Aemond, but it is not Cregan’s.”

“Since when have you cared for any opinion but mine? What has changed, tell me who has turned you against me?” He pleads, his violet eye shining with a strange light.

“You, Aemond It was you who has turned me against you. I told you that I was not happy, and in truth I do not think I have been happy for a long time. So please, tell the servants to allow Cregan’s men to collect my things.” You beseech him, silently begging him to see sense. “I do not wish to share all my future husband’s clothes until I am able to procure more, but I will if need be. Do not make me do that, you know I hate dull colors.”

“We could be happy, I could make you happy, if only you would give me time.” He promises, taking your hands in his own, ignoring your words as he always has. His hands are cold, and you realize they do not fit yours as Cregan’s does. Your fingers do not seamlessly interlock, instead they fight each other for dominance, for room, for freedom.

You shake your head sadly. “No Aemond, it is too late…I am sorry, but you must let me go.”

His eye is rimmed red, and he shakes his head as well, silver hair falling forward like a curtain. “I cannot.”

“You must.” You whisper, squeezing his hands before sliding yours from him and taking a step towards the door. “You do not love me—”

“I do, I do, I love you, y/n.” He insists, grabbing your hands again and taking one step forwards for your backwards one.

The pain in your chest is a sharp, piercing one. This is all you have wanted for so very long, but now…it is nothing, it feels hollow, desperate, and you see Aemond as he truly is for the first time.

“No, My Prince, you do not. If you loved me, we would be wed. You would not have let anything stand in your way, I know you, I loved you, I have seen what you do when you do love someone, and you do not love me.” You tell him, giving him a tearful smile.

“And this…Lord Stark does?”

“He is marrying me.” You say, and it is the only thing that needs to be said.

Aemond releases your hands, but not before pressing a kiss to each one. “A victory for the North.”

You nod, fighting back a sob as a single tear hits your joined hands, and Aemond turns his face from you.

“You must write to me, if you have need, or…miss me.” Aemond says, clasping his arms, behind his back once more.

You turn and reach for the doorknob, “do not wait for my letters Aemond, it would not make either of us happy.”

Cregan stumbles back when you pull open the door, a sheepish smile on his face, but he is ready, with open arms, sweeping you into them and whispering how strong and brave you are.

You can feel Aemond’s eye burning into you, into Cregan.

“My Prince.” Cregan says, nodding his head towards Aemond, before he brushes the tears from your face and kisses you gently.

There is a strangled sound from inside Aemond’s solar, but Cregan’s lips on yours drowns out any sense of guilt, and you smile when he pulls away.

“Are you ready, Lady Stark?” Cregan asks, offering you his arm.

You take it and lean into him. “I am ready, Lord Stark, let us go see my father, and then home, to Winterfell.”

“Y/N—” Aemond’s voice, a broken, frantic thing, follows you, but Cregan merely pushes the door shut, and leads you away, towards your new, happier future.

TL: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305, @solkara

#meg's writing #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #still inspired by Good Luck Babe #my Aemond girlies this one is not gonna make you happy

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erodasfishtacos · 5 months ago

Text

Steer Clear Pt. III

summary: yn figuring out dynamics with her grumpy flat mate. word count: 7k warnings: abo!, moody h

author’s note:

There is 8 more parts to this up on patreon

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days (usually two) consistently// currently updating doctor!h blind date

All writings are accurately and always added to the organized folders in the collections feature

There are currently 300 + pieces available to read

It only cost $3USD —— thanks for any support and check me out here! PART ONE PART TWO +++++

YN‘s day goes by in a blink of an eye.

She and Beatrice slept most of the morning and afternoon without interruption.

YN was of course wrapped as tightly as possible in the blanket that Harry had warned her about.

He was completely right too.

It was absolutely sodden with his scent, YN wishes she had an unlimited supply of it.

It makes her wonder if it’s a reaction purely based off of her current state or she actually would like this scent just as much when she wasn’t in heat.

YN finds herself wishing that Harry was back in their apartment.

It’s a fierce protectiveness, possessiveness that is flaring up in a way that is very unlike her.

Typically, she did the exact opposite.

She pushed people out, sure, all of those said people have been betas but still.

YN had never wanted Niall to stay or anybody else she was close to either.

She would turn venomous, mean, into someone that didn’t match her true personality.

It was pure fight or flight mode that she was willing to act whatever way was necessary to get everybody out of her protected space.

Around three is when YN starts paying closer attention to the clock.

It’s stupid though because Harry very rarely walks in the door earlier than eleven in the evening.

He’s your alpha. He’ll know to come home, YN omega assures her.

“He’s not my fucking alpha,” YN hisses to herself because she doesn’t need to know when he’s getting home because they’re not in any type of relationship.

Exactly the opposite, YN is still convinced more than not that Harry is only tolerating at best until he can find somewhere else that’s not with a broken omega.

With all that being said, YN still watches the clock and in no time, eleven has long passed.

She’s tired but there’s irritation building as she watches it get closer to midnight and her alpha- Harry still hasn’t come home yet.

YN has rubbed her face into the blanket so much that it was ridiculously enough already starting to lose the scent that he had interwoven into every fiber of the knit material.

It’s hard for YN to always decipher her emotions in these cycles before every time seems real, logical, and more than that more intense.

So YN sits and sits and sits on that couch until she finally hears the doorknob turn with a key before it turns open softly.

Harry is assuming she’s asleep, logically, and obviously trying to be quiet as he leans down to untie his shoes before placing them neatly in the spot.

He hangs his gym bag on one of the hooks and shucks off his jacket before tucking it over the bag.

YN doesn’t even realize that she’s growling at him until it exits her mouth and he turns his head to look at her, clearly confused but not startled necessarily.

Harry doesn’t react, he turns back to lock the door before finally making his way to the living area with the same, infuriating emotionless set on his features.

YN raises her pitch, more pushy, not requesting but demanding a response from him.

“I know you’re not growling at me,” Harry rumbles bored, not giving her the attention or response that she was craving, that her omega desired.

YN does not relent, she doesn’t even recognize herself as she watches Harry watch her - his eyes falling on the blanket she was currently wrapped up in.

YN tugs it closer to her body, protective and unwilling to give it up because she felt safe in it.

“I’m not going to take your blanket,” Harry replies to her growls, steady and still almost sounding unbothered, and he doesn’t even care that she loves his scent so much.

YN glares at him, watches him as he makes his way into the kitchen, and her omega hates that it feels rejected by the way he doesn’t come to comfort her.

Harry pulls out a container of one of his meals he’s already prepped for the week, basic chicken and rice that he pops in the microwave before mixing up another protein drink.

Once he’s finished shaking the drink, he takes a long chug from the bottle before he’s finally looking at her again.

Even though his face and body language was appearing unaffected, the thing that gave him away was the way he was pumping out his scent - obnoxious and stronger than necessary.

YN wasn’t really sure what that was about but she was focused on much bigger things at this point.

“Are you going to explain to me what I’ve done that has you so up in arms?” Harry raises an eyebrow, taking another slow sip and licking his bottom lip, “I haven’t had anyone over. I told you I won’t do that again. I will remind you that I’m not a mind reader.”

He was so alpha, so nonchalant, so just….alpha it was frustrating and unfair.

YN’s throat goes dry because she’s not getting the comfort, the reassurance she needs, and in the past, when betas have tried to reassure her old boyfriends and flings, that was when she would turn nasty on them.

She has no urge to get nasty with the alpha standing in front of her.

Instead, embarrassingly enough, she wants to cry because she just wants to bury her face in his neck where the scent is the strongest and she doesn’t know in such a short amount of time that her viewpoint on him has changed so drastically.

“Are you going to answer me or shall I go to my room?” Harry prompts after a long pause of her just staring at him, trying to swallow down the range of emotions that was swirling through her at this time.

YN growls again, louder and more agitated.

“Enough,” Harry finally breaks but just barely, his teeth flashing at her in warning, “I’m sick of the growling. You’re like a feral pup. Tell me what's going on, this is the last time I’m asking you before I go into my room. It’s nearly two in the morning, you shouldn’t even be awake.”

YN’s growls cut off almost instantly even though it wasn’t a command in his alpha timbre, she mumbles, “You came home late.”

Harry grabs his food from the microwave, “Speak up, you were loud enough a minute ago.”

“You came home late,” YN grits out, she knows how utterly ridiculous she sounds, she knows okay?

She wishes she could swallow the words back up.

Harry’s eyebrow only gives the slightest raise before his face is blank again, “I’m always home late. You should have told me if I have been disturbing your sleep by getting in at this time.”

YN stands up, flustered and her face felt hot with a mixture of rage and embarrassment, “That’s not why.”

Harry sighs as he drops his fork to the counter, “What’s the issue then? Do you not want me here? Are you trying to kick me out?”

A distressed whine leaves her throat, that’s not her intention of this conversation at all, and the thought of him leaving makes her want to be sick.

Harry shows he is at least somewhat in-tuned with his alpha when he perks up at the noise, “Okay, that’s not it then.”

YN blinks at him.

“Go to bed,” Harry tells her evenly, no hint at whether any of this has even slightly affected him, “There’s no need to wait up for me. I’ll always be home.”

He doesn’t really get it.

YN wants to cry which means it’s the opportune time to go to bed, moving towards her bedroom without another word to him.

After she uses the restroom and almost gets in her nest, she realizes she hadn’t brought the striped blanket with her which makes her even more unsettled.

If that’s even possible at this point.

Just as she swings open her door, Harry is walking away from her and towards the living area.

He doesn’t look back.

However, the blanket is folded neatly in front of her door, and when she picks it up - she’s fucking delighted to realize that he laid more of his scent on it.

Maybe his inner alpha did exist after all.

YN purrs relentlessly with the blanket perfectly nestled into her bedding like everything else, it was an absolute perfect addition.

If she wasn’t so tired from her long night up, waiting for him, maybe she would have considered the implications of Harry rescenting a blanket for her and leaving it at her door.

Instead, she brushes it off as a nearly fed-up alpha who just wants the needy omega he’s cohabits with to just chill the fuck out and leave him alone.

The latter seems much more likely the scenario for YN.

Harry doesn’t not bring up the incident again.

He doesn’t sit her down and set firm boundaries with her that she’s not allowed to control when he comes and goes from the house.

He doesn’t scold her and tell her that he’s an alpha who will not tolerate an omega, who isn’t even his mate, growling at him for no logical reason.

Instead, Harry does the exact opposite of those things.

Their communication is still minimal at best but Harry comes home before ten every single night now without fail.

From the night on after YN’s behavior towards him, he walks through the doors before the clock strikes ten, and continues on with his nightly routine.

He doesn’t acknowledge the change or why he’s doing it.

But YN doesn’t find herself needing to growl at him every time he walks in the door.

She also thinks she must be getting closer to her heat or maybe even insane because she swears that her little items she steals from Harry, like shirts and hoarding the blanket in there as well, are never losing an ounce of his scent either.

Every time she crawls into her nest, it’s the same overwhelming rich and dizzying aroma that is distinctly him and only him.

Harry doesn’t make any type of effort to sit or socialize with YN if she’s in the living room.

What she does notice is that he pops out of his room every so often and YN feels like he’s checking in on her because sometimes he opens the fridge, stares for a moment, and closes it without grabbing anything.

But YN can feel his gaze on the back of her and it makes goosebumps break out on her arms for a reason she can’t really explain.

There’s tension, YN feels like she can almost see it, thick and cloying but she’s not going to be the one to break it either.

On this particular night, YN was more irritable than she’d been in at least a week and it was mostly because her inner omega was unsettled by the lack of attention from Harry.

YN hasn’t felt the need to growl at him recently but her mind keeps replaying the time she hugged him and he squeezed her neck.

How could it go from so intimate to nothing in a matter of seconds.

Does YN choose to stir the pot?

Absolutely.

The next night, right around nine-thirty, YN decides it would be a wonderful time to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies from scratch.

Harry claims the kitchen when he’s home for his dinner.

If YN so much as tries to enter for a bottle of water, it’s not that he would stop her but she’s accustomed to the low grunt that he’ll let slide from the back of his throat at his displeasure of sharing his space.

Fucking alpha.

YN’s used to omegas and betas who are not only okay with sharing space but encourage it.

YN wasn’t trying to be overly messy but she naturally was clumsy, there was flour dusted across the countertop (maybe even a little bit on Beatrice), the drippy yolk of an egg on the side of the bowl when she cracked one funky.

YN’s hands were caked with a mixture of egg, sugar, flour as she tried to roll each ball of cookie dough into similar shapes and size - the made it look so much easier on Bake-Off than now.

When Harry walks in the door at nine-fifty three, doing his typical, neatly lining up his shoes, hanging up his gym bag, and then placing YN’s shoes neatly as well because she just kicks hers off.

Very opposite for their secondary genders.

It would be expected that YN would be the one organizing while Harry was haphazard and careless because he knew an omega would clean up after him - he didn’t seem to share the same beliefs as other alphas.

Harry takes a few steps into the kitchen until he’s on the opposite side of the bar that looks into the open space of the kitchen, an irritated tick in his jaw as he observes the mess that is the kitchen.

”S’quite enough of this, yeah?” Harry rumbles, he looks rougher than usual, not putting on such a good mask as his normal is.

His eyebrows are knitted deeply enough that his lids cover his eyes more than normal, his nostrils were flaring, and his upper lip was crooked upwards in a makeshift almost-snarl as he let out an exasperated huff.

YN turns on the clueless act, a perfectly crafted expression of faux surprise covering her face, “You don’t like cookies?”

”Out of the kitchen,” Harry replies sharply, his hackles would be up in any other situation and they were close, shoulders so tense that they were nearly to his ears as he stared daggers into her.

It was intense enough that she got a zip of electricity up her spine that she couldn’t tell whether it was arousal or fear.

Maybe both.

Definitely both.

Her inner omega wasn’t all together clueless and knew that she shouldn’t be taunting an already on-edge alpha because she wanted attention that she didn’t even deserve or should expect from him.

”Once I’m done with the cookies,” YN waves her hand, airily and trying to appear unbothered like he normally is - she gives him credit because it’s a lot harder than it looks if she’s being honest with herself.

”You’re not finishing the cookies,” Harry shakes his head, turning the corner into the kitchen, and making YN’s heart rate spike instantaneously, “You’re going to sleep. You need rest and this isn’t the time to make fuckin’ cookies.”

”It’s the perfect time to make them,” YN turns it back easily, trying not to let the quiver in his tone as obvious, she can hear it easily and hopes that he doesn’t.

”Do you think I’m stupid?” Harry asks bluntly, his tone louder than normal as he reaches over the stovetop to press a button on the panel to turn the oven off from where it was preheated and ready for the cookies, “You’ve never made cookies once since I’ve been here. You are off work and have all day but you choose right now. The only time I use the kitchen.”

Shit.

She wasn’t as smooth as she thought.

YN swallows harshly, the quip about turning off the oven dying in her throat.

He doesn’t acknowledge the implications of what he just accused her of.

He ignores it like he does with everything else.

”Go to bed,” Harry repeats, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watches her, he catches onto her game easily even if he doesn’t completely know the reason that she’s playing it.

“I have to clean up,” YN argues now, she wasn’t going to leave him to clean up the mess.

That was never her intention plus with how exhausted, irritated he appears, YN was already feeling guilty for picking such a bad day to mess with him.

”I’ll clean it up,” Harry retorts firmly, the timbre coming into his tone but it wasn’t enough to be commanding, just tilting on the edge of it, “Leave it alone and go to sleep.”

YN hesitates by the doorway of the kitchen, loitering as she watches Harry roughly grab a towel from where it was hanging on the oven door, reaching under the sink for the cleaning spray, and getting to work.

This did the opposite of YN’s intentions, it made her feel even more unsettled.

She somehow managed to not even really get Harry’s attention this way, he just dismissed her again.

YN doesn’t argue further, doesn’t want to push him to use his alpha command but she does retreat down the hall with her metaphorical tail between her legs and goes into her room like Harry had asked multiple times.

She can’t sleep, her nest doesn’t feel right and she can’t make it feel right.

YN is trying desperately not to cry when she rearranges a sweater for the fifth time to no avail.

As much as she doesn’t want to leave the bedroom, she needs a break from her nest because it is driving her insane, and it’s been long enough that Harry should be out of the kitchen for her to grab something to drink.

This was hell.

YN opens her door, takes one step forward, and her foot hits something soft.

When she glances down, it’s one of the blankets from the living room, neatly folded and right where the one was before.

YN picks it up, pressing it to her face, and realizing that it was another scented blanket.

A gift from the alpha almost.

But YN wonders if it’s just stressing him out to have such an dysfunctional omega in the same proximity of her.

It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t a courting gesture, it was a simple gesture her for his own benefit.

Or that what’s her inner omega was convincing her even as she arranged it nicely and fell asleep promptly afterwards like she never even struggled to sleep in the first place.

When YN wakes up in the morning, reflecting on the night before, she realizes that she really cannot continue to put Harry through this mayhem of her pre-heat.

It’s not fair to him, he’s just an alpha who she happened to agree to let move in with her who didn’t really now what he was signing u poor, and she really wasn’t making his life easy with all of it.

If YN had thought about it for longer, she would have realized it was an absolutely horrible idea.

However, she was much more focused on not embarassing herself in front of the most attractive alpha she’d ever come across anymore than she already had.

She couldn’t believe she even attempted the cookie thing, getting so easily called out, and getting nothing of a reaction.

YN doesn’t think it’s possible to embarass herself further than she already had in that scenario.

It was time to change something.

For the first time, YN was going to try to seek out an alpha.

It was a knee-jerk, too much of an emotional reaction when she sends a text to Niall.

YN: Blaze tonight? We haven’t been clubbing in a hot minute! Thinkin’ it’s about time to find me an alpha ;-)

Niall: Fuck yeah, pick u up at nine?

YN: I’ll be waiting.

And again, if Niall knew she was in pre-heat, he would never agree.

However, what Niall doesn’t know will not hurt him.

Right?

+++++++_ When YN walks out of her bedroom after shooting off that text to Niall, satisfied to have plan to get her mind off of an alpha that is not only out of her league but minimally tolerates her.

The house smells amazing but it’s not just because of Harry’s scent (that’s a big part of it) but YN feels like now she must be hallucinating because the apartment smells like chocolate chip cookies.

Sure enough when she makes her way into the kitchen, there’s a clear storage container holding what looked to be a dozen chocolate chip cookies.

And when YN peels back the lid, taking one out to examine, she realizes that Harry had made the cookies.

The frustration that shot through YN was for multiple different reasons.

Did he think that it was funny to tell her she couldn’t and then he did?

He looked so incredibly exhausted last night and he was still vindictive enough to stay up and make cookies?

She had watched him with her own eyes lean over to turn the oven off which meant he would have had to preheat it again.

YN glances over at the sink to see that there are no dishes either which means after all this, he really did clean the whole kitchen.

It was most likely to prove a point.

It felt like the point was that she wasn’t a good omega.

When she wasn’t in these vicious cycles, she was tidy and more on-top of things but in it, there was almost this brain fog that blanketed her.

The chocolate chip cookies just solidified that she needs to go out tonight, she needs to get her mind off of Harry, and find another alpha.

Her omega despises the thought but she pushes that prodding inner monologue as far back in her mind as possible as she’s getting ready in her room.

YN goes for a simple but sexy dress, a makeup without wearing makeup look, making a subtle look with dewy skin and a highlight on her nose, hair loose and purposefully messy in waves.

She looked good, felt good as she gave herself a once over in the mirror, and before she knew it, Niall was texting her that he was out front.

YN doesn’t leave a note, why would she?

She doesn’t owe that alpha anything, just like he doesn’t owe her.

They’re not even friends for crying out loud.

YN gives Beatrice half a dozen kisses before locking the door on her way out of the apartment, fixing her hair in the reflection of the elevator doors as she waits for them to open.

Niall unlocks the door for YN to slip into the passenger seat, “Whoa, you tryin’ to pull tonight with that outfit, huh? You’d get any betas in the room.”

“Alpha,” YN corrects as she places her small purse in her lap.

Niall’s eyebrows raise towards his hairline, “Since when are you interested in alphas? You’d literally never wanted to even interact with one.”

YN shrugs, not quite willing to share the honest answer, “Something new, I guess.”

Niall doesn’t buy it, as he pulls away from the curb, “Does this have anything to do with the fact that you live with an alpha now?”

YN lets out a faux-surprised laugh, lying through her teeth when she says, “If anything, it makes me never want to meet another alpha again. I don’t know what you were thinking when you thought that’d be a good idea.”

The smile falters on Niall’s face, his big blue eyes turning into a pool of concern, “Is it bad? Will he not leave? You could have told me-”

YN’s heart rate spikes, she doesn’t want him to think that or report that back to Harry.

“No! Jesus, Niall. I was joking. Harry’s a great flatmate, a little quiet but as non-problematic as they come,” YN lets another lie slip out, this one a bit easier because she wasn’t intending to paint a negative picture of Harry to her friend.

“Oh, okay. Good,” Niall nods as his shoulders relax, “It’s not like I could even match him anyways. There’s a reason they call him The Annihilator.”

“Who calls him that?” YN asks, having never heard the name before.

“It’s his fighting name. I told you he fights for money, that’s where he is most nights. That's what they call him because he rarely loses,” Niall shrugs as he stops at a light, looking over at her, “You’ve had to have seen his muscles. He’s ripped even for an alpha. Dude is the definition of an alpha.”

YN could definitely agree with that.

YN also doesn’t like the idea that he fights for money or knowing that’s what Harry does when he’s not at their apartment.

He hides it well when he walks in the door, YN sometimes notices a bruise or a mark but she knew he boxed.

She didn’t realize that it was actual fighting where he could be injured or seriously injure someone else.

“He didn’t tell you that? Huh. I guess it’s not surprising, I only found out by accident,” Niall shrugs easily, honking when the car in front of them doesn’t move, “He rarely shares anything about himself.”

“How do you accidentally find that out?” YN asks curiously, Harry wasn’t going to hand over this information nor would she ask him so Niall was the best second option to get the information out of him.

“I was walking home from the pub one night, a Saturday, I think,” Niall recalls, pausing as he remembers, “There was a huge crowd of people, a line waiting outside of a gym, and I thought that it was odd because it was like two in the morning.”

“I was a little buzzed, wasn’t necessarily in my right mind, and I followed the crowd into the gym to see what all the excitement was about,” Niall continues, “I realized a bit too late that it was an illegal fighting ring. I went to leave but as soon as they announced the main fight of the night, Harry was the person who walked out that had people going insane.”

“I stayed, he didn’t notice me in the crowd. I really didn’t know anything about him. He was a guy I worked with who I occasionally talked about the weather and sports with,” Niall laughs, “He really fucked the dude he was fighting up. I mean like…within the minute, the dude was knocked out cold.”

“It was odd, very Harry-like but he didn’t even look excited that he just won. When the ref raised his hand in the air, everyone was screaming, and Harry just looked bored. It was crazy, I think I would feel on top of the world.”

“I didn’t think he noticed me in the crowd. He really wasn’t in the ring for that long nor did I think he even glanced into the crowd once.”

Niall bites his lip for a moment, “The next Monday, he kinda confronted me in the break room. He told me to keep my mouth shut about it. I told him I thought the fight was awesome and we sorta became chill after that.”

YN can’t help but scoff because that’s such a Niall way to become friends with someone who was threatening him like that.

YN had so many questions rolling around, none get out before they pull into their parking spot, and Niall is getting out to usher her towards the club.

It was packed.

YN was used to going to omega and beta clubs only, no alphas allowed but this was for every secondary gender, none were excluded.

The smells were overly intense to YN’s sensitive nose, making it crinkle and wish that she had something of Harry’s to bury her nose in.

As they make their way through the crowds, YN can’t help but wish for Harry, wish to be back at their home, back in her nest surrounded by her soft, amazing smelling things.

The desire for another alpha had left her body the moment she had entered the club and saw the way the alphas were leering at her.

There was a reason she never came to these types of clubs.

Niall would be horrified and quick frankly hurt if he found out that YN was in her pre-heat, it wasn’t until now she was realizing how much she may be endangering herself.

She wanted Harry.

Even if he was mean.

Grumpy.

Only tolerating her.

He was safe.

He made her feel safe and protected.

YN was fighting down the urge to ask to go home.

She knows that Niall would take her but when she sees how happy he is, how in his element he is when a few omegas circle him, it would make her feel guilty to take him out of his already fun time.

The night goes pretty uneventful until the end, YN sat on her barstool, sipping on the same drink for the last hour.

Niall was socializing, dancing, and coming back in regularly to check on YN but he was oblivious as always to how subdued she was.

A few different people had come over to strike up conversations but they fizzled out after she realized the majority were just looking for a hookup and all she could think about was the alpha who was most likely already home by now.

YN goes to check her phone, trying to see what time it is but it’s dead.

She must have forgot to plug it in while she was getting ready but if she was to guess, it was getting into the early hours by this point.

YN hasn’t seen Niall in a few minutes and she feels like now is an appropriate time to ask for them to leave so she slides off the barstool that she had been taking residence on to find her friend in the crowd of sweaty bodies.

As she makes her way through the swarms of dancing people, someone grabs her wrist and it causes her to stumble backwards.

She assumes it’s Niall, she must have walked right past him.

But when she looks at the person who tugged her, it was an alpha.

A big, beefy alpha with a sharp, unsettling smile as he eyed her up.

He didn’t let go of her wrist and even with the mass amount of people surrounding them, she could smell how harshly he was pushing out his own scent which smelled like something akin to a musky, dampness that made her want to gag.

”Let go,” YN demands as she attempts to tug her wrist away.

”I just want to talk to you,” The alpha responds, in a fake display of playfulness as he yanks her again, bringing him even closer to his own chest.

”I said let go,” YN repeats, firmer as she tries to escape his grip, the pressure on her bone was painful and surely going to leave a bruise.

”I’m not done talking to you,” The man replies with a hint of offense, like it was absurd that YN was trying to pull out of his grip, “You shouldn’t come to these types of clubs if you’re not looking for an alpha to take you home and knot -“

YN brings her wrist up which mean his hand as well, she is in pure defense mode when she sinks her teeth into the meat of his hand which makes him jerk away with a very unalphalike yelp.

He glances down at his bloody hand with disbelief, “Did you just fucking bite me?”

YN wipes her face, she knows she has his blood on her lips from how fiercely she had sunk her teeth in, with the purpose of pain and injury.

”Whoa, whoa…” Niall’s voice comes out of no where, putting himself between the two of them, “What the fuck is going on?”

YN wants Harry.

YN wants to fucking leave.

YN wants her nest.

”Take me home,” YN says to Niall instead.

”YN, what- “ Niall tries to ask again, concern and utter confusion written over his facial features as he watches the alpha tend to his injured hand by ripping a piece of his shirt to wrap in a makeshift bandage.

”Please take me home,” YN is pleading at this point which leaves Niall’s lips in a firm line as he nods and guides her out of the club.

It isn’t fair by YN doesn’t talk on the way home.

She doesn’t give Niall any explanation for the events that had unfolded when he deserves it.

YN promises she’ll make it better in the morning but her omega is so incredibly unsettled and she can’t believe that she was fucking stupid enough to think that going out to a club with alphas would have made her feel differently towards Harry.

She just wants to crawl into a ball in her nest and disappear until her cycle is over.

It was getting worse, further, closer.

She had fucking bit someone like a feral fucking pup as Harry had previously called her.

Niall walks her up to her door, waits patiently as she rustles in her purse for the keys to the apartment door.

However, it isn’t necessary because before she can even find her keys, the door is swinging open, and revealing an absolute incensed, furious alpha who’s nostrils were flaring, teeth were flashing, and he looked less than a second away from ripping out Niall’s jugular vein. +_+

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #new fic #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #abo #harry styles abo

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noiriarti · 5 months ago

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The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 5

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, overstim? WC: 6.2k AN: hehehehe i have written something nefarious!!! requests and asks are open, as always <3

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, [Ch. 5], Ch. 6, Ch. 7

Chapter 5: Learning

Your knees were shaking as you unlocked the bathroom door. The metal handle was cold under your fingers, but your body was blazing hot, an inferno trapped inside a person. Only two people were left, one of whom was Barriss, so you smiled tightly and told her that, actually, you were gonna head home, that you fell asleep on a bench outside and it was time to turn in. You hoped she didn't smell the cum on your breath.

You almost forgot to pack your laptop, but slid it into your bag haphazardly at the last minute and managed to leave the room with a smidge of your dignity still intact. On unsteady legs, you walked over to the door of the building, resting your fingertips on the cool glass, just to steady yourself. Images of Anakin flashed in your mind. His yell as he shattered that wood. His desperate moans as he tried to keep it together before cumming last night. His hands buried in your hair, rough and unyielding. His strong legs under your hands as he fucked your throat. His smile when he woke up next to you.

All of them kept you unbelievably horny until Anakin joined you with the clicking of the lab door behind him. He'd probably made some similarly lame excuse to the others, but you could see the flush of his cheeks from earlier hadn't faded, even when he cast you a grin. If they knew to look for it, maybe the other students would have noticed the slightly heavy breathing or the looseness in his movement. But only you knew that about him, and it sent a thrill down you.

"Let's go home," he said, pausing in front of you, far closer than any friend would be. Your heart jumped again, and you could feel that he still made your knees weak, even after everything the two of you had done. There was no one in this area, and you took the risk to put your hand on his chest, then drag it slowly, almost imperceptibly, downward.

"Oh? What are we gonna do when we get there?" You pouted up at him. This was crazy, you thought. Two weeks ago, if someone had told you that you would be drooling, practically begging Anakin Skywalker to fuck you, you probably would have filed for a restraining order. Now, it was all you could do not to mount him in the middle of the lobby of the engineering building.

Anakin obviously enjoyed the way you teased him, based on his smirk and flaring eyes.

"Don't act innocent. We both know where your mouth was ten minutes ago." His voice was low, gruff, but it was like he'd lit you from within. Everything buzzed and tingled, and you couldn't wait to get home. God, how did he do this to you?

Anakin must have noticed, his eyes catching on your slightly open mouth. He grabbed the hand that had stopped its path somewhere around the top of his stomach, and took it in his. "Come on," he murmured, then turned around and started speedwalking out of the building. You followed him, in a trance, and somewhere around the second block of your walk home, you realized that your hand was still in his, and his thumb was rubbing over your knuckle and leaving fire under its wake.

You were holding hands. You hadn't even held hands while you fucked, or anything else really. The two of you weren't supposed to be like this, all romantic and sweet and hand-holdy. But there was nothing that would have ripped you away from him right now, horny or not. You'd give anything to solder your hands together like pins of a chip, intertwined eternally.

Fear curled in your stomach, and an image flashed in your mind. His face, crestfallen, his eyes pleading, begging fate to give him another chance. His prototype in his hands, delicate and made of hundreds of hours of his best ideas, but still not enough. The creamy paper of the certificate under your fingers on the hot lights of the stage. The thunderous applause of the audience, your classmates, as you looked out at the one person in the audience who mattered. The tears welling in his eyes, even though he tried to will them away by looking up and blinking as fast as he could. His cold look when he ignored you in class for the last six weeks of the semester.

The breath stalled in your chest, but you looked up at the Anakin in front of you now, walking home with his hand wrapped around yours. Strong, powerful, unbreakable. He'd get over it, right? Going home with him now surely couldn't make it any worse down the line, you tried to tell yourself.

You were quiet for the rest of the walk, but the ache between your legs didn't stop. No matter what you thought about the future, the current you wanted him more than anything. More than whatever fears you had that he'd never look at you again in three months' time. And, if that did happen, you wanted some memories to keep you warm while you got over him. (But what was there to get over? This wasn't anything more than some comfort between friends, right? You tried to quiet the racing voice in your mind.)

The front door of the building was there, and, as soon as you slipped into the elevator--not yours, the one on the other side of the entrance--Anakin was kissing you again. Your mind went quiet, and the only thing left was that you wanted him. You wanted him more than anything in your life. He was leaning, looming over you with his imposing figure, and kissing you like you were his oxygen. And, if you were being honest, right now, he was yours.

Your hands came up to his strong jaw as you tried to bring him closer and closer, but the elevator dinged, and he yanked away. Anakin really was strong, you realized when he almost dragged you down the empty hallway to his room.

It was your first time in his space, and you were shocked by how neat it was. You'd expected energy drink cans covering every surface, or maybe random devices and wires all over the floor, but it was like someone had taken special care cleaning up. Not a speck of dirt on the carpet, and the bed was made almost militantly. He had been planning to ask you over tonight, you realized. You started grinning like an idiot as he dropped his backpack by the door and threw his coat over it. You took yours off too, but with more care than he did.

His desk was the only sign of chaos, covered in old papers and sketches. There was a bucket in the corner of the room of what looked like shells of old Raspberry Pis, and a gleaming array of servers blinked in the darkness on his dresser. There was a picture there of a woman, kind-looking, older. She had his eyes, but her hair was darker, thicker. Their smiles were identical. That must be his mom, you thought. Somehow, this new window into his life made you want him even more, but in a different way. In a scary way.

The thoughts disappeared when you felt his warm lips on yours again and his arms wrapping around your waist. It never got old, even if you'd kissed plenty of times before. It was always new, exciting. He furiously pulled you closer to him, his fingers digging into your back. He was devouring you, his tongue lapping at your lips insistently. You met it with your own, and he groaned loudly before exploring your mouth further.

You stumbled backwards until you hit the desk, sending a few papers flying. Anakin detached from you, just for a second, and shoved the papers off like they'd affronted him personally. Immediately after the desk was clear, his hands came up on the back of your thighs. You both know what it meant. Jump, just like the first time in the lab, and you obliged, shimmying onto his desk until you were fully seated.

"Get your fucking clothes off. Right now," he ordered, already starting to peel off your shirt. You threw it off, then took off your shoes and socks, leaving them forgotten somewhere on the floor. He had already shrugged off his tee, and, forgoing any extra steps, yanked his pants and boxers down in one go. His cock bobbed up, already leaking and hard again. With a similar annoyance at the existence of clothing as a concept, he yanked down your leggings and underwear and tossed them aside, leaving you bare, panting, and looking up at him expectantly. You'd been waiting for so long, so desperately, that you could feel the slick had spread to the inside of your thighs.

He opened one of his desk drawers with his right hand, his eyes still fixed on your pussy, and fumbled around until he found a condom. He couldn't resist before opening it, and shot out one hand to gently smack your clit. You keened as sparks exploded across your body and made your back arch. You were sensitive. So sensitive, you wondered if you could cum with him inside you. He put his hand on your hip, and it was big enough that he could reach your clit with his thumb, rubbing small circles that made you produce gentle noises of pleasure.

Eventually, he gathered enough self-control to pull away and roll the condom onto his dick before stepping in between your spread legs. Taking his cock into his hand, he slapped your clit with it a few times, just to get a rise out of you. The contact, the pressure, was perfect, and with every slap, your hips twitched to chase the spongy head of his cock. He watched your desperate writhing and chuckled darkly. You knew what he wanted, and you were too far gone to try and stop yourself.

"Please, please, Anakin, I need you," you begged as you slid to the edge of the desk, trying to get closer to him, just enough to touch. You added another desperate, quiet please, and he gave in, slamming into you all the way.

Both of you let out ragged groans as his hips met yours, finally filling you to the brink. You'd been thinking about this for hours. The whole day, even. Then he pulled back and started fucking into you with an aggression you hadn't seen before. The previous time you'd fucked, he was energetic, sure, but he wasn't like this. This was wild, a remnant of how excited you both were from the way you'd blown him earlier. His thrusts wracked your frame, making you shake with each vicious jab into you. The smack of his hips into yours and the squelch of your wet pussy taking him was obscene, dirty.

Anakin's hands came to your knees, moving them so that your feet rested on the table. You were completely folded over, and you realized why when he pressed his hips to yours and rocked into you instead of thrusting, creating amazing friction from his skin on your clit. You threw your head back with an unrestrained groan of his name. He was out of breath, ragged and feverish, but he just kept going.

"Look how good you take it, baby," Anakin growled. "God, you feel amazing, so fucking wet for me." One of his hands found your hair and grabbed it while he hit a particularly tender spot inside you. Your scalp screamed, and so did you.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck Anakin, right there!" You could hardly recognize your hoarse voice as you begged him. "Harder, faster, please," you moaned. You could feel that coil of pleasure in your stomach that had been wound up for hours because of him getting tighter and tighter. He was moving so quickly, his eyes wild, feverish and desperate like an animal. His usual smile had faded, and you saw a sort of intensity you only noticed when he was angrily working. Like you were the only thing he wanted.

Each thrust pulled a grunt or curse as you started tightening around him. You were so close, only a few more thrusts until you'd finally feel relief, and you started shifting your hips up to meet him, just to get an extra bit of friction. Anything would be enough to push you over the edge. Anakin noticed your erratic thrusts upward and held your hips down to the desk. You hoped bruises were forming.

"Fuuuck, you're so needy. You're not gonna cum until I say," he ordered. You weren't sure if that was possible. Your pussy was twitching wildly, and your walls were fluttering around him. You bore down and clenched as hard as you could, but that bought you thirty seconds at best.

"I can't--please--I can't--" you started, trying to tell him that you were too close, and he quickly stopped panting to smirk, before slamming into you even faster. You were trying so hard to be good for him, to do what he asked, and your pussy was betraying you as it started barreling towards your orgasm. Your face scrunched into a grimace as you tried, in vain, to control it, and you counted one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten excruciating seconds before he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him as he finally gave you permission.

"Cum on my dick--ughhh ffuck--Do it now. Cum for me," Anakin gritted out. As soon as he did, something inside you exploded, and you let out a howl as you finally came. Wave after wave hit you, and you went limp in his arms, like you were made of nothing but pleasure and loose limbs. Even though your eyes were squeezed shut, his face was all you could see in your mind, everything that mattered at that moment. Aftershocks made your head buzz, and he could feel you constrict around him.

"Shit, you're so good for me, baby," Anakin choked out between gasps, "So fucking perfect, fuck I'm--" And then you felt him twitch and jump inside you, thrusting in a couple of final times before he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he let out wild grunts of pleasure from his second orgasm of the day. Beneath him, you were boneless, thoroughly exhausted from everything the two of you had done that day.

After a few moments, you felt his strong arms lift you up to your feet, then help you over to the bed. You slowly started to catch your breath, splayed out on the soft sheets which smelled like a mix of clean, fresh laundry and him. You wanted to swim in it. Maybe if Anakin wasn't right there to see you do it and then make fun of you mercilessly after, you would have stuck your nose into the pillow.

You felt the springs of the shitty dorm mattress shift under you as Anakin joined you on the bed. You expected him to lay next to you, maybe spoon you if you were lucky. (If you were lucky? When did you start wanting that?)

Instead, you felt Anakin's fingers, still warm from your body, come to brush your thighs above the knee, tracing patterns. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. When his hand reached the crook where your leg met your pussy, it was entirely clear what he wanted. Stirrings of arousal started inside you again when the tip of his finger barely ghosted over your clit.

"You're not done. I came twice, you're gonna cum twice," Anakin said as he sank his finger inside you. You let out a high, keening moan, which turned more desperate when he lowered his hot, wet mouth onto your clit. He was merciless, driven, precise, repeatedly licking circles into your skin as he watched you squirm above him. Anakin was a quick study, based on his success in classes, but you didn't realize he was this quick of a study. Even based on just the first time he'd eaten you out, he was near-perfectly doing exactly what he knew would get you close. Last time, he had been tender, exploratory, but today, he was going directly for what he wanted. You were still sensitive from the way he'd slammed into you, and the finger inside you was stroking your walls gently, just to remind you it was there. Despite how tired your pussy was from everything he'd done to you, his pointed tongue directly where you needed it, sucking you and covering you in his spit, was enough to restart the tension in your stomach and light it on fire.

Your hand fumbled on the sheets, looking for him, his head, his hair, his shoulder, his anything, and instead his hand came to meet yours. You interlocked fingers, and you caught his eyes looking up at you tentatively. As if you'd pull away at any second. But you wouldn't, not by a long shot.

"Fuck, Anakin, I'm close," you moaned out, even though you were fairly certain he could tell, based on the little breath he huffed out when he felt your thighs clench. The idea that he knew you that well was enough to push you over the edge, gentle waves lapping at your core and spreading through your body. It was softer, weaker than the one before, but it was still enough to make your toes curl. The knuckles of your hand that was intertwined with his went white, and he gripped you back with equal intensity. Your moans floated through the room. You heard them as if they weren't even yours, just noises in your ears as you came on his tongue.

When your rhythmic clenches became softer, Anakin pulled his finger from you and came up to lay beside you. He squeezed the hand he was still holding to try and grab your attention when he saw you were still a bit dazed. Your eyes shot open and fixed on him. He was holding a water bottle, and helped you sit up so that you wouldn't spill.

"Drink some, baby," Anakin said, bringing the bottle to your lips as you took a couple tentative swallows. Sometime around the third mouthful of cool water slipping down your throat, you realized that he'd called you baby again, and that you hadn't flagged it as weird.

He pulled the water bottle away and took a couple of gulps. It was an oddly intimate gesture, drinking from the same water bottle, but it felt right. It felt natural. The way his Adam's apple bobbed would have made you feel something if you weren't so thoroughly spent, but you could at least ogle him a bit and save the image for later. A bit of water dribbled out of his mouth, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Wanna watch some TV or Netflix or something? Once we clean up, I mean. It's kinda early for bed," Anakin said. You nodded, and slowly dragged yourself out of the bed to the bathroom, which Anakin shared with his neighbor. You locked the doors and started cleaning up the wetness along the insides of your thighs.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

When Anakin exited the bathroom a couple of minutes later, he was still naked, and quite annoyed he had forgotten to bring a pair of underwear or pants or anything. Instead, he was pacing in his bathroom trying to figure out if whatever the two of you were was the kind of relationship where he could walk around flaccid without it being weird. Or would it be weirder if he wrapped a towel around himself? That would definitely be weirder, because he still smelled like sex, and he was going to shower tomorrow morning, anyway. He was too tired tonight.

After a few minutes, he decided to just leave, and if you got weirded out by him being soft, so be it. He couldn't imagine you would, but the delicacy of it all had him second-guessing everything. How far was too far? Would you push away a suggestion to wear his shirt to sleep tonight? What if he held your hand again?

He got his answer when he opened the door and found you wearing one of his old CU hoodies and pulling on a pair of his boxers. The grey hoodie was stretched out and soft, and it was too long on your frame, so it ended more around your upper thigh than your hips. His boxers looked a bit silly, but comfortable on you, and he felt a flare of possessiveness in his stomach. God, you looked like you were his. But that wasn't what this was, right? When he looked at you, he wasn't sure. He'd give anything for you to be his right now.

"Sorry, I didn't ask. Is this okay?" Your innocent eyes looked up at him, like you didn't know what you were doing to him. Yes, it's fucking perfect, and I kind of want to rail you again, but I think I'd pass out, he thought.

"Yeah, um, it's great," he said, trying to hide how pleased he was. He did not succeed, but he caught you hiding a smile.

The two of you settled into the bed, covered by one of his blankets. He grew up in a warm climate, he explained, and duvets were just so stuffy, so he used a pile of blankets and sheets instead. His laptop sat on your laps, balanced between one of his thighs and your leg.

"Have you ever watched Pride and Prejudice?" You asked.

"Uh, I think I watched the start of it once." He had, sometime at friend's house when it was playing on the TV. They didn't have cable when he was a kid, so he got most of his pop culture knowledge acquired before the age of thirteen from snippets at other people's houses and doctor's offices, before someone changed the channel.

You nodded and pulled it up on his laptop, slotting yourself just perfectly under his arm and on his chest. He was almost too distracted to look at the screen, and instead kept finding his eyes drifting back to the way your soft lips mouthed some of the lines. Every time he saw you, it made him smile like a maniac, and his cheeks were hurting by the time he noticed you were asleep. Darcy's first proposal rolled around, and you were gone to the world, so he gently closed the laptop and pulled the blanket up around your shoulders.

As Anakin drifted off, he thought about peace. The kind of stillness that you inspired in him when you were together, the focus you brought. And sure, he teased you, but you made him better. He was the best version of himself around you, and he wanted to spend every second of every day by your side. He slipped into a deeply restful sleep, but, before it took over, he asked himself if he'd ever felt this way about anyone before, and concluded that the answer was no.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Hey, Anakin?" You asked him the next morning, when you were throwing on a loose t-shirt of his and some old joggers.

"Yeah, what's up?" He tossed a jacket over his sweater. You were a bit nervous to bring it up, but the harshness of the morning light had made you think more about what you should have been doing last night than you would have liked.

"I was thinking, um, I'm worried about that thermo final, and I ended up not finishing what I wanted to last night, so, would you mind if we kinda sorta did less stuff for a tiny bit? Not that I don't enjoy it, I'm just worried about my grades," you explained. Anakin nodded.

"Yeah, of course. Why don't we say that we'll keep it PG until the thesis deadline on Monday?" His suggestion was great timing, actually, because you weren't sure you'd be clear-minded or awake enough for the next week to be able to have good sex anyway.

You agreed. And it was easier than you expected, too. Anakin was never too far away, which soothed the ache if you ever really felt like you needed to fuck him. Now that TKD practice was finished for the semester, given that you were in the week before finals, all his time was dedicated to classes and his thesis, both of which involved you. You left your dorm together, worked on your projects together, and walked home together.

Sometimes, you'd catch glances filled with something across the lab, and you didn't realize that you were shooting them at him too. When you were alone, which was typically after 11, you allowed yourself a hand on his shoulder, or a brush of his back. Just enough to remind you that he was still there, still real. Then you'd go back to your wiring, and everything else faded away.

You touched yourself in your bed nearly every night, thinking about him. One night, when you were particularly shameless, you pulled up his Instagram and looked at his photos as you got yourself off. It had only been three days since he last fucked you, but you were insatiable.

On Thursday, when you woke up, you got a text from him.

Anakin: hey, was thinking about typing my report n studying for thermo today in the library. wanna join?

You texted him back that, yes, you would, and that you could meet there after breakfast. On the way, you stopped by the campus bubble tea place for some much-needed caffeine to top up the supply of Celsius in your bag, and then entered the library. It was a grand space, all old-money style marble and granite. It made you feel like you were getting ready to go to some swanky gala, covered in Swarovski with a champagne flute in your hand.

Through the check-in desk, you found your way to the elevators, which took you to a distinctly less old-timey space. Anakin told you to get to level B3, which you did, and you found it to be quite cool for a subterranean lair. It had mesh rolling chairs, oak tables, and a little overlook of B4, which appeared to be a massive computer lab with rows of desktops set up. Only five were in use, which made the space pleasantly quiet. Anakin had saved you a seat at a table overlooking the students below. It was already covered in hand-sketched schematics for his thesis, and some crumpled slips of paper that were probably thoughts he'd had on the go and written down before he'd forgotten.

When he spotted you, he grinned and waved you over, and you told yourself the warm feeling in your gut was from him being such a good friend. He asked what you were drinking, then admitted that he didn't get the hype around boba. He'd had it once, at a freshman year event, and thought it was too expensive.

You spent the rest of the day trapped inside the library, only coming up for air to pick up a to-go box from the dining hall. He took about seven trips to the vending machine, four of which were to get Skittles, which he inhaled by the bag. He admitted, when prodded, that he maybe had a sweet tooth. The other three vending machine trips were for Red Bull, which he was using to get through the week, he explained. Around 3am, he forced you out of the building, and walked you home. Thankfully, the library was only three minutes from your building, but the city was not particularly safe at night, so the buddy system came in handy.

When you reached the elevators of your building, past the completely empty entrance, he hesitated before pushing the call button.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come up?" He asked the question while staring at the elevator door, and you hardly realized it was directed at you.

"Anakin, I thought we said we wouldn't--"

"No, I mean, just to sleep," he interrupted. The silence hung in the air between you, cut by the ding of his elevator arriving. "Sorry, that was weird of me. Good night," he said as he stepped inside. It seemed to surprise him when you followed him, but it wasn't like you'd say no, ever. You wore his hoodie to sleep again. You'd wanted nothing more than to feel his weight next to you all week, and it was a relief you didn't know you needed.

On Friday, once you'd gone to your room to change and grab some stuff, you met at the library again. This time, he texted you "i have a surprise for u." He was holding two bobas, one replica of your order, and one for him. He got the sugar wrong (it was too sweet), but it was the taro milk tea with a double serving of tapioca pearls. He'd gotten himself a mango green tea with jellies, so sweet that, when you tried it, you needed water to make your throat feel normal again. He laughed heartily when he saw your reaction, and pronounced your drink "too milky," but you saw him go for sips when you weren't looking.

(It was something he wouldn't have spent money on if it was just for him, but treating you was a treat for him, he told himself. His mom told him to take care of himself, and making you smile was the best feeling he could imagine, so it was technically self-care to buy this, right? And he could just work another hour in the Jinn lab this week to make up for it.)

Sometime around midnight on Friday, in the silence of the library, you felt his pinky graze yours. Sparks shot across your hand, just from that simple touch. When you looked up at him from your thermo textbook, you found him staring intently at you, mouthing is this okay? You nodded. It was. It was so okay.

You didn't know when, but, the next time you looked up, your fingers were laced with his, and he was grinning like a maniac as he looked down at some equations about air pressure.

You slept in his arms again that night, but in your bed this time. He would have to do the walk of shame this time, fair was fair.

On Saturday, after Anakin had slipped out to avoid questions from Ahsoka, you joined him at the lab for an hour, just to get photos of your project, then you both scurried over to the library for a couple more hours of writing. You were already at 56 pages, which you felt proud of, but then you saw Anakin hit 70, and you typed faster.

When he outpaced you and hit 80 before you hit 65, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the stacks at the back of B3, then kissed him silly. That will slow him down, you thought to yourself. It also slowed you down, but you didn't really find yourself caring much when you found him blushing for an hour afterward.

You slept in his bed that night, but a more appropriate description would have been that you both collapsed around 5 am.

On Sunday, you were both completely focused in the library, and consumed more caffeine than food. Anakin insisted he get you lunch, which he did, but he only ate bits of his. Dinner rolled around, and he got it for you again. You were finally finishing your first draft, and so was he, so you read each others'. His was, unsurprisingly, brilliant. His results section was a little sparse, but he was still in the prototyping phase, so that was fine, but you added a few comments anyway and caught a few missing verbs and weird sentence structures. When he returned your draft in half an hour, you found he had passed through it carefully, marking "justify more" and "good argument, put it in the intro too" and "why not use a different material for the shell?" all over the document. He was good at editing too, apparently. You hated to admit it, but his comments made your paper better. You just hoped you'd returned the favor.

The two of you passed out in your bed at 7 this time, only for an hour, before getting some food and writing furiously in the dining hall. The deadline was in four hours, and you were so, so close. Ahsoka joined you around 9, just to eat, but then went back to your room to study an hour later. The clock was ticking down, and you were bouncing off the walls. You still had to generate two graphs, and add all your citations.

You were practically vibrating in your chair when Anakin's hand found your knee under the table.

"It's okay. It's already good, don't get in your head about it," he assured you, just for a moment, before turning back to his own laptop and frantically adding some images of existing microsurgical tools.

At 11:59am, you both hit the submit button, then, without words, looked at one another and instantly went back to his apartment.

You didn't even take off your sweater before collapsing onto his bed. His warm body wrapped around you, and you had the best sleep you'd had all semester. You woke up at 9pm, but then promptly went back to sleep. You had a debt to catch up on.

The next morning, you dropped by the lab again. Just to get everything squared away from your submission, and to grab some basic parts so you could work over finals next week and maybe even over winter break the week after, if you found the motivation.

The only other person in the lab was Barriss, who greeted you warmly. You'd missed her sass and chipped black nail polish. She was a breath of fresh air among all the other dudebros who you had to deal with. Plus, she actually cared. She asked you questions about how your finals went, if you thought the thermo final was actually the tenth circle of hell too, and filled you in on her dating life. She had been seeing this girl, but it wasn't working out, so she was going to end it in a few days. You were dreading where the conversation would inevitably go, and you were getting ready to tell her that, no, you weren't seeing anyone, but she had another question. A much more direct question.

"Are you… with Anakin? I've seen you two together a lot lately." Barriss asked, her deep green eyes unreadable. Your blood went cold. Were you too obvious? Did Barriss see or hear you two fucking in the bathroom downstairs that one time you'd done anything in the building? You had to say something, quickly, or else you were scared she would get suspicious.

"Um, no? We're friends, nothing more," you said, intently staring at some imperfection in a section of the plastic. You grabbed some sandpaper, just to have something to do. Did she know about the two of you?

"Friends? I thought you hated him?" Her question was joking, lighthearted, and the tension eased from your shoulders. She was just being perceptive. You were spending a lot of time together, someone was bound to realize you weren't quite so anti-Anakin anymore. If you hadn't been so relieved, you would have noticed the edge underlying her tone.

"Well, I used to. But he's actually kind of a good person, turns out," you commented, shrugging as you worked a little too hard on the divot under your fingers.

A derisive snort flew from Barriss.

"What?" You suddenly couldn't give less of a damn about the plastic or the sandpaper. All you could look at was Barriss, who was tightening a nut on the body of her bike with a wrench like nothing was wrong.

"Just that you think he's good. It's kind of funny, actually," Barriss said as she shrugged nonchalantly. What the fuck did she mean? Anakin was a good person, a great person even, someone who you'd really like to spend more time with. What did she see that you didn't? Was it still that bot thing from sophomore year?

"What do you mean?" The question came out more tentative than joking, and you cursed your lack of subtlety. But it didn't matter how you asked it, not in the slightest, because what she would say would throw any facade of yours out of the window.

"Anakin Skywalker is a thief."

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coolemmasulivan2 · 7 months ago

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Rewinding Us | 1

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

Summary: You and Mason built a love story over five years, but after an accident, your memories are wiped away, including any feelings for your constant bickering "rival". Can you remember your love story with Mason, or will you have to start all over?

Word Count: 3613

You can read more chapters here.

Isn't it strange How people can change From strangers to friends Friends into lovers And strangers again?

Mason's laughter echoed across the bar area, as he leaned into a conversation with a blonde woman. Her vibrant red dress seemed to draw all the light from the sun, and the way she tilted her head towards him spoke volumes. A tingling of unfamiliar anger flared in your chest.

Eight years ago, mutual friends introduced you to Mason. Everyone predicted sparks would fly, but instead, you and Mason clashed constantly. Conversation with him often devolved into playful jabs that sometimes turned into full-blown arguments.

Then, the accident happened and something changed. Well… everything seemed to have changed.

You were on your way home from a draining workday when a drunk driver slammed into your car at a red light. The impact was brutal, leaving you in a coma for days. When you finally opened your eyes, your memories were fractured, stuck five years in the past.

The amnesia was a cruel joke. Five years vanished, leaving a hole in your life. Everywhere you turned, there was evidence of a life you couldn't recall: a new job you didn't choose, friends you couldn't place, a house that felt foreign. Most unsettling were the unfamiliar feelings stirring within you. Those weird and unfamiliar feelings.

"Who's that?" Ben asked, taking a swig of his almost empty beer.

"I don't know." You mumbled, your gaze glued to the pair.

"She's definitely something else!" Ben smirked.

"She's nothing special!" You snapped, the words leaving your mouth a little too quickly. Heat crept up your cheeks, and you looked away hoping Ben hadn't noticed.

"Jealous much?" He teased.

You scoffed. "Jealous? Please. She's most likely after his fame." Your voice lacked conviction even to your own ears.

Across the room, Mason felt a familiar warmth bloom in his chest despite the woman's flirtatious banter. He only had eyes for you, even if you didn't remember the five years you'd spent tangled up in his life as his girlfriend. Just then, the bartender placed their drinks down, and Mason took his leave with a polite excuse.

"Who was that?" Ben nudged him as he sat back down.

Mason took a long pull from his beer, the bitterness mirroring the emotions churning in his gut. "Just a fan."

"Fan, huh? Looked more like a starving woman from the way she was eyeing you up." Ben's gaze flicked to you, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. "Speaking of, Y/n wasn't exactly thrilled with the view."

"What?"

On the dance floor, you laughed with Charlotte, your head thrown back in carefree joy as you moved along the music. The sight sent a jolt through him. Seeing you happy made him happy.

"Maybe that's a good thing, right?" Mason said. "Means she still cares about me, even without the memories."

"There's only one way to find out." Chimed in Benny, sliding onto the club sofa beside them. "Kiss her!"

The air crackled with tension. A knot formed in Mason's stomach. Was he right? Was there even a chance you'd feel the same if he kissed you? Or would you slap him just like the first time five years ago?

"What if it doesn't work?" Mason asked.

"At least then you know."

Reece whistled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It was a stupid prank. Mason knew it was ridiculous. The locker room pranks were a highlight of the day, a chance to goof around with the team. But this time, a knot of dread formed in his stomach.

"Seriously?" Mason's voice was tired.

"Don't be a pussy, Mason!" Reece nudged him. "It's just a kiss. A peck, really. It doesn't need to be a French kiss." The other guys burst into laughter.

Mason gave Reece a dreadful look. "Why her?" His voice was a low growl. "I'll do it with anyone else."

Christian slung an arm around Mason's shoulder. "Come on, man. Where's your sense of adventure? It wouldn't be any fun with someone else." Mason rolled his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"She'll be at the birthday party tonight! It's your opportunity." Reece pushed, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You know the consequence if you back out."

"What was that about?" Charlotte asked softly, noticing your expression.

"Nothing!" You sighed, forcing a smile.

"It looked like something." She pressed gently. "You looked like you were ready to march over there and claim him as your territory." Charlotte exclaimed, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.

You let out a frustrated sigh. "Ugh, don't be ridiculous." You scoffed, but it lacked conviction. The truth was, the sight of Mason laughing with another woman had sparked a flicker of something unexpected in your chest.

"Maybe you're just reacting strangely because of, well…" Charlotte trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards your head.

You clenched your jaw, a flicker of frustration crossing your features. The accident had robbed you of so much, leaving you adrift in a sea of unknowns. Lately, though, especially around Mason, there were these… moments. Flashes of emotions you couldn't quite place.

"Look, I don't know what's going on in my head, but it doesn't mean I like him. We… didn't exactly get along, remember?" You trailed off, unsure how to describe your past with Mason.

Charlotte was bursting to tell you the truth, the truth about your feelings for Mason and his for you. Your relationship was no secret. Everyone knew. Everyone except you.

"I'm not saying there's something there." She hedged. "But maybe there's a spark you haven't noticed."

You scoffed, shaking your head for emphasis and taking a large sip of your drink. "No way! I never have and never will. He's just another stuck-up jock with a silver spoon up his—"

Charlotte cut you off with a pointed look. "Isn't that most of your guy friends?"

You stuttered, the truth hitting you like a cold shower. Charlotte was right. Football players were your usual crowd, and that's how you met Mason in the first place. But there was just something about him, something that had rubbed you the wrong way since the beginning.

"He's different."

Charlotte smirked. "Yes, he is." She muttered.

"Last night, I thought about looking him up on Google." You blurted out, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Charlotte's eyes widened in pure panic.

"You what?" She gasped.

"I don't even know why." You admitted, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. "I just started thinking about him, and the next thing I knew, I was typing his name into Google. Thankfully, I realised what I was doing and deleted it before I hit enter."

The internet was flooded with numerous photos of you and him, making it evident that your relationship with him had evolved into something more over the years.

"Don't google him! Just talk to him." Charlotte said. "Just because you can't recall the last five years doesn't mean your relationship with him has to remain the same as you remember, with constant arguments."

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear and glanced back. Mason was already looking at you, but he quickly looked away when you caught him.

The clean, white walls blurred as a dull ache throbbed behind your eyes. A rhythmic beeping filled the air, and panic clawed at your throat, a soundless scream trapped in your chest.

Two blurry familiar figures materialized beside the bed.

"Easy there!" A deep voice murmured. His face was etched with worry, his familiar blue eyes welling up.

"Mason?" You rasped, your voice rusty and unfamiliar. A hand grasped yours, warm and familiar. "Charlotte?"

"Yeah." He choked out, forcing a smile. "It's us. You're awake."

You tried to piece together the fragments of your shattered mind. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital." Charlotte said, her face etched with worry. "You've been in a coma for a while." The sentence sent a jolt of fear through you, questions tumbling through your mind, unanswered and terrifying. "Do you remember anything?"

You shook your head, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through your body. "No."

A tear escaped Charlotte's eye and traced a path down her cheek. "You're okay… You're okay, that's what matters."

You shifted your gaze back to Mason, a question forming on your lips. "What are you doing here?" Your group of friends was the same, but the two of you were not exactly best friends.

The question hung heavy in the air. Mason's face drained of colour, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Wh-- What do you mean?"

"Well, we're not exactly best friends, are we? I never expected you to give up your perfect life to sit in a hospital chair waiting for me to wake up."

At that moment, you saw a flicker of something raw and painful in his eyes. You knew, with a strange certainty, that your question had shattered something inside him.

Charlotte took your hand. "Hey, look at me. What is the last thing you remember?"

You looked at her, confused as to why she was asking you that. But you closed your eyes and made an effort to think about it. "I don't know." You frustrated said. "I remember our trip to Australia."

Charlotte placed a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp. She looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath to compose herself. Mason's reaction mirrored hers. He stood up abruptly and ran a hand through his hair. Only then did you realize he looked older from the last time you saw him.

"Y/n?" You looked at your friend, as she cleared her throat, her voice thick with emotion. "That was five years ago."

Back at the villa, a drunken haze hung heavy in the air. Everyone except Mason, who squirmed nervously as his gaze constantly darted back to you. It wasn't that you were a disaster drunk, but you were unpredictable, and he couldn't bear the thought of not being there if you needed help.

The irony tasted bitter on his tongue. The Mason you "knew" wouldn't have cared if you tripped and fell, let alone offered a hand.

The doctor's words echoed in his head: amnesia, five years vanished. Your story, a typical journey from enemies to lovers, shattered in a blink of an eye. Anger bubbled up inside him and not just for you, but for him too.

"I'm going to bed!" Ben growled, his voice higher than usual.

"I'm hungry. I want cheese!" Charlotte said, grabbing your arm and dragging you towards the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Mason attempted to assist Benny onto the couch. The groan that escaped Benny's lips sounded suspiciously like a death rattle, but when he managed a weak thumbs-up, Mason sighed.

He kicked off his sneakers and slid open the outdoor French doors, letting in a cool breeze. He could hear the sounds of female laughter and the clinking of glasses from the kitchen and he could picture the mess you were creating.

Suddenly, a muffled voice groaned: "Kiss her!"

Mason jolted upright, his eyes landing on Benny, who remained dead on the couch with his eyes shut.

"Dude, I thought you were sleeping!"

"I am!" He said, chuckling.

"Yeah, right." Mason grumbled, hitting Benny's head with a pillow. Benny, ever the drama king, yelped and sat up, clutching his head and muttering a curse or two.

You and Charlotte emerged from the kitchen, each sporting a triumphant grin and a sandwich. "Hungry, boys?" Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow.

Benny eyed the sandwich with the intensity of a starving man, but after a groan that seemed to emanate from the depths of his stomach, most likely from the alcohol, he declined. Mason, too, shook his head, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features as he watched you laughing with Charlotte while sitting by the pool and eating a sandwich at three in the morning.

With a mumbled goodbye, Mason hoisted a groaning Benny to his feet and guided him up the stairs. Helping his friends into bed, Mason felt the day's weight finally lift from his body. But as he caught another glimpse of you through his bedroom window, a different tension settled in his chest. How was he supposed to act around you now? The girl he loved but doesn't even remember him like that?

"You always need to have the final word, don't you?" Mason growled, his voice laced with annoyance. You shot him a glare.

"Because you're so much better, Mr. Perfect?" You retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mason threw his hands up in exasperation. "Will you just shut up?" He groaned, the frustration evident on his face.

You crossed your arms over your chest, ready to fire back another insult, but before you could utter a word, Declan beat you to it.

"Would you two stop fighting for two seconds?" He pleaded, his voice strained. You glanced at him, his face flushed with annoyance.

"He started it!" You muttered, pointing an accusing finger at Mason.

Mason scoffed, his jaw clenched. "Me? You're the one who couldn't just let it go."

Lauren, seated beside Declan, reached over and squeezed his shoulder, her touch calming the tension radiating from him. She threw a helpless look between you and Mason, a silent plea for you both to act like mature adults. But as usual, you couldn't.

Exhaustion finally settled over Charlotte, her giggles fading into soft snores as she drifted off on the lounge chair. You watched her for a moment, jealous of her sleep escape. With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from the chair and slowly walked around the pool's edge.

Each step felt heavy. It was always when you were alone with your thoughts that the blank space where memories should be frustrated you the most. Friends, family, lovers – who knew who you'd lost in that time? The doctors were optimistic, suggesting the amnesia might be temporary, but the not knowing worried you.

As you stepped forward, you didn't see where you were placing your bare foot and a surprised yelp escaped your lips. You closed your eyes ready to embrace the cold water but before you knew it, a strong hand grabbed your arm, pulling you back with surprising ease. You landed against Mason's chest, his familiar scent washing over you.

His scent is so familiar, you thought to yourself.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. You looked up into his eyes, seeing a flicker of worry and something else that made your breath hitch. You both leaned in, the unspoken feelings and longing hanging heavy in the air.

Then, you remembered who he was. "Take your hands off, Mount!" You mumbled, pushing away from him a little too forcefully.

Mason's playful grin faded. "Are you sure you want that?" He challenged, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Yes!" You said, trying to sound tougher than you felt.

He held his gaze for a second longer, then quickly released his grip. You took a triumphant step back and before you could react, you were falling backwards.

Panic. A scream ripped from your throat as you plummeted towards the cold water. A strong arm wrapped around your waist just in time. Mason pulled you back against him with a grunt, his grip firm and protective.

"That's what I thought." He smirked, a hint of concern lingering in his voice.

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The hand that held your waist felt imprinted onto your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your eyes drifted down, drawn to his lips, something you don't remember noticing before. A strange urge buzzed through you. Maybe it was the disorientation, but before you knew it, you were both leaning in.

"What's happening?" Charlotte called out, rubbing her blurry eyes, her voice laced with concern. Both you and Mason jolted apart, a blush creeping up your neck. The tension slowly drained away, replaced by a cold jolt of reality.

"Nothing!" You stuttered, forcing a smile at Charlotte. "Just a little clumsy." Feeling awkward and desperate to break the tension, you blurted out, "Uh, I think I'm going to bed… Goodnight!" Without another word, you turned and fled inside the house.

Charlotte saw you entering the house, and then her gaze flicked to Mason, who was now staring intently at the pool. A slow realization dawned on her face.

"Oh no!" She drawled, her voice filled with despair. "Did I interrupt something?"

The music pulsed through the air, a relentless bass beat vibrating in Mason's chest. Sarah's birthday celebration was a joyful gathering, filled with laughter and people swaying to the music. His eyes, however, were trained on you, across the room, lost in conversation with a group of girls, your laugh ringing in the air.

Every muscle in Mason's body screamed in agony. This was a terrible idea, a prank gone way too far, but the memory of Reece's ultimatum and the relentless teasing he'd face if he backed out helped him gain courage. He took a deep breath and a long sip of his beer.

He navigated the crowded room, dodging spilled drinks. As he drew closer, he could see the happiness on your face, the way your eyes sparkled with joy. He was close enough now to hear part of your conversation, making you throw your head back and laugh. The sound of your laughter did something strange to him. Something different and new.

Taking a final breath, he stopped in front of you and your smile faded as his shadow loomed over you.

"What do you want, Mason?" You asked, annoyance lacing your voice.

He shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Just, wanted to say hi."

You raised an eyebrow. "Right… Because that's something you normally do."

He ran his hand over his hair, avoiding your gaze. "Look, can we just talk for a second?"

You hesitated, your friends giving you curious looks. Finally, you sighed. "Fine. But make it quick." You stepped away from the group and into a quieter corner of the room. "What?" You hissed.

"Just…" He mumbled, looking like he was about to swallow his tongue. "This!"

Before you could react, he closed the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. It wasn't gentle, more like a surprise attack. Your eyes flew open, and your first instinct was to shove him away, but for some reason, you didn't. Maybe it was the shock, but you found yourself frozen.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended. You jerked your head back, a look of pure fury on your face.

"What the fuck was that?" You yelled, slapping him hard across the face, the sound loud enough to cause the closest heads to turn your way.

Mason stumbled back, hand flying to his cheek, a perplexed look on his face. "Wow! Okay, bad idea!"

You glared at him, your chest heaving. "The worst idea ever, Mount. The absolute worst." Spinning on your heel, you stormed back to your friends, leaving a stunned Mason, replaying the heat of the kiss and the unexpected spark running through his body.

You bolted upright in bed, the sheets tangled around you. The dream was vivid and confusing. The taste of Mason's lips, the anger, the heat – it all felt real.

Before you could even think about it, you were out of bed, fueled by a restless energy and a burning need for answers. You stormed down the hallway, the silence broken only by your pounding heart and fast footsteps. Mason's bedroom door was shut, but that didn't stop you as you opened it.

Mason was sprawled across his bed, his bare chest at display. The dim glow of moonlight fell across his face, highlighting the peaceful lines of his sleep.

"Mason!" You called, hitting his leg under the sheet to wake him up. "Mount, wake up!" He jolted upright, his eyes wide with surprise.

"What the hell, Y/N?" He said, his voice thick with sleep.

"Why did you kissed me?" You demanded, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and confusion. He blinked, trying to focus on what you were saying. "Did you thought it was a good idea? Did you had fun?"

"Wha-- what are you talking about? Slow down." He mumbled, his brain struggling to catch up.

"Don't play dumb!" You hissed. "Sarah's birthday party, remember? Years ago! You… kissed me!" You gestured wildly with your hands. "Was it a joke? Was I just some random target?"

Mason finally seemed to grasp the situation. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Y/N, slow down. Please!" He sat down, leaning against the headboard. You were finally remembering something.

"Slow down?" You shouted, incredulous. Your frustration boiled over, and you hit him lightly on the chest. "I woke you up because you're confusing! One minute you're arguing with me, the next you're… invading my personal space!"

"Hey!" He protested, catching your wrists and pulling you down on the bed next to him. "Whoa, calm down. You're gonna wake up the whole house." He held your gaze, his voice softer now.

You glared at him, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Let go of me, Mount!" You snapped. The memory of the kiss, the way your body had reacted despite your initial resistance, felt like a betrayal. "I hate you!" You mumbled.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your face. "Do you really, Y/N?" His voice was a low murmur, sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating from him.

The anger you felt was fading fast, replaced by a confusing mix of emotions. Did you actually hated him?

#mason mount fluff #mason mount imagines #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount #mm7 #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #Rewinding Us

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enigmatist17 · 26 days ago

Text

I am sick besties :( ergo a blorbo must suffer

This blorbo is part of the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon which one can find here

My parts so far 1 2 3

---

Prowl...did not panic. He was a mech equipped with the best battle computer known to Cybertronian kind, able to run probabilities and statistics faster than his emotions could register. Little surprised him, and up until recently, nothing had ever made his emotions supersede his battle computer.

Save for the scene before him, his servos trembling slightly as he holds the person who had captured his spark.

Jazz had not shown up for their morning refueling a few breems ago, and at first, Prowl had not minded, figuring Jazz was busy with something else. It's not until well into his duty shift that the concern starts, Ironhide popping into his office to ask after the organic, who had failed to show up for some sparring. His unanswered comms is what really makes his spark pulse with worry, various mechs clearing the halls as he heads to his (their) quarters, the door opening at his ping to show Jazz's mecha was still in its corner. Jazz is still in his berth, Wheeljack having created a smaller version that could be anchored just about anywhere on a magnetic surface if needed, the man groaning in discomfort. It's when Prowl gets closer that he registers the abnormal heat readings radiating off of the human, the ordinarily smooth intake and venting Jazz had stuttered and littered with the occasional cough as he struggled to get comfortable.

"Jazz?" Bleary brown optics flutter open at his name, Prowl's doorwings flaring up at the glassy look. "Jazz?"

"H...hey...hey Prowler..." Jazz's entire frame spasms when a loud series of coughs interrupts him, groaning softly when they finally stop. "Ow..."

"Your body heat has exceeded the temperature you told us was acceptable, is there any way I can help lower it?" A clawed digit gently rests against Jazz's cheek, and the human lets out a little whimper as he curls into the metal.

"Cold...feels good..." Prowl didn't dare to move as he sent Ratchet a worried comm, noting the sheen of sweat covering Jazz's face, his clothing damp from even more of it. Despite the heat reading not changing, Jazz pushed himself away from Prowl's servo a few minutes later, annoyance crossing his face as he burrowed under the thick fabric he called a comforter. "Too cold.."

"My body temperature has not changed, little shadow." Prowl softly trilled as he leaned closer, bleary eyes focusing on him after Jazz cycled his optics a few times.

"'S kay...fevers aren't fun..." Doorwings flutter at the familiar beat of Jazz reassuring him, despite clearly being exhausted with whatever was attacking his frame. "Could use water..."

"I shall get you some soon, I wish for Ratchet to look over you first." Jazz grumbled something as he moved to kick his blanket off. Prowl carefully logged the action, and Jazz weakly motioned him close. "Are you feeling warm again?"

"Mhm..can you hold me...so hot." Jazz whined as Prowl carefully slipped his digits underneath the warm human, cradling him carefully as Jazz went limp against his palm. "Mhm..."

"Rest, I will take good care of you." Prowl grabs the comforter with his free servo before going to hunt Ratchet down, surprising himself when he nearly snarled at a few Constructicons who got between him and the medical bay he sought. Jazz was cocooned within his comforter again when he was set down on a berth in front of the medic, Ratchet clearly at a bit of a loss but scanning the human anyways, if not for anyone but Prowl and his sanity.

"I don't know what you expect of me, but he clearly has some sort of errant programming running its course." Jazz had given Ratchet what he could about human health, but without being a medical professional (and royally fucked in ways he didn't feel like explaining to a bunch of alien mecha's), it was rudimentary at best.

"'S called the flu...can happen in space apparently.." Jazz mumbled from his little nest, hair matted and sticking up in all sorts of directions. "Just need rest...an' water.."

"That I can do something about." Ratchet left to go fetch some water from a small dispensary he kept for potential emergencies just like this, Jazz spilling some of it on himself in his desperation to drink the cool liquid. "Is there anything that might help within your mecha frame? Any sort of medication patch?"

"A wha?" The human seemed to struggle with the question, just staring at Ratchet before relaxing back against his blanket in exhaustion. "No...?"

"Do not worry sweetspark, we will do what we can to aid you." The medic had to fight a roll of his optics as Prowl carefully scooped Jazz back onto his servos, his tense stance from when he initially entered slightly relaxed as Jazz appeared not to be on death's berth.

"You're off-duty until he's recovered from this...flu, you'll need to keep him properly hydrated. I'll see if we can get his food synthesizer to make something easy on the tanks, he'll need it."

"Very well, thank you, Ratchet." Prowl left when Ratchet motioned for him to go with a grumble, Jazz finally in recharge once he had settled to be half-covered with his comforter, face pressed against his palm as he lightly snored. It had made his spark squeeze in distress to realize just how different he was from Jazz, unable to help his beloved from something that he had to battle within his own frame, far away from whatever medical aid his people could offer for such an illness. Prowl wanted nothing more than to drive this "flu" out and far away, but had to settle for cleaning up Jazz's berth one-servoed, cradling his sleeping partner in case he was needed.

He would be here until Jazz was back on his pedes with that bright grin of his, guardian to one that needed it most right now.

#personal #keferon #mecha pilot jazz au #jazzprowl #jazz #prowl #Prowl can't help his human :(#poor guy

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hippiegoth97 · 6 months ago

Text

Wild and Untamed Things: Steddie x Reader Pt. 2

Collage by me :)

Part 1

Master List

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @simp4eddie022 @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafescurtainbangz @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @espressomunson @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@voyeurmunson @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n

Description: You, Eddie, and Steve have been living together since the incident at the movies. You decide to have a little fun on an off day in your apartment...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, female reader, Bisexual!Steve Harringotn, Bisexual!Eddie Munson, threesome activities, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise/degradation, role-swapping, polyamorous relationship, squirting, slight overstimulation, LGBTQ+ themes

Word Count: 4k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Wild and Untamed Things Pt. 2

A few months have gone by since that fateful night you and the boys had gone to see Rocky Horror, and your relationship is going stronger than you'd ever imagined. The three of you decided to rent an apartment together, making it easy to keep your arrangement more of a secret from an unforgiving town. You haven't really told anyone about it, you know most people wouldn't understand. Robin knows, and has been sworn to never speak a word about it.

You're cuddled up on the couch with Eddie and Steve. They're sitting beside each other, with you spread across their laps. Your head rests on Eddie's chest, and Steve massages your feet. Steve brought home some new releases from Family Video, eager to watch them with you and Eddie. You're currently spacing out while Beetlejuice plays on the TV, letting Eddie's fingers stroke you innocently. You're lost in thought, unable to focus on the film as dirty images of you and the boys swirl around your head. They seem to catch on to your daydreaming, their eyes burning into you after a while. "Are you bored, Y/N?" Eddie asks in your ear, sending a chill through you. The tone in his voice makes you gasp, and your cheeks flare up in shock.

"Hmm, that's a shame. I picked this movie out just for you, babygirl." Steve chimes in, licking his lips as he looks over your figure.

"Sorry, I'm just a little...distracted." Your eyes flick between them, hoping they pick up what you're putting down. As always, they immediately do.

"Is that so? And what exactly would you like us to do about it?" Eddie retorts, teasing your obvious wanting.

"I dunno, whatever you want." You're feeling extremely flustered at the moment, having the two loves of your life staring you down is highly intimidating. You bite your lip, hoping you've given a satisfactory answer.

"Ooh, 'whatever we want' she says. That's a very dangerous offer, isn't it, Stevie?" Eddie chuckles darkly, moving to take your earlobe between his teeth. Your eyes flutter closed, wetness beginning to gather between your legs. You instinctively rub your thighs together, that all-too-familiar pressure rising inside you. You can also feel Eddie's cock stiffening below you, which only serves to turn you on even more.

"It sure is, Eds. I'm not so sure she can handle it, though." Steve knows you'll do anything to prove just how 'up for it' you are, especially out of spite. Your eyes snap open, glaring in his direction.

"Oh, please. You're all talk." You cross your arms, your bratty side taking over. They just share a laugh at your words, which makes you nervous. You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I suppose you're right, dollface. Actions speak louder than words." Eddie smirks, maintaining eye contact with you as his hand runs down your front to the waistband of your jeans. He undoes the button, sliding the zipper down wordlessly. You're practically panting, watching helplessly as he slips his hand inside your pants. He rubs your pussy through your underwear, feeling just how wet you are already. You moan at the contact, gripping Eddie's shoulder with your hand. The sound makes their dicks twitch, they can't get enough of your sexy noises. "Mmm, soaked for us already. Such a naughty girl. Have you been thinking filthy thoughts again?" You just nod at him, but he ceases his movements on you. "Use your words, slut." His tone becomes stern, almost startling you.

"Yes, Eddie. I think about the two of you all the time." You almost whine, desperate for them to touch you some more. Eddie strokes you again, only this time he goes into your panties. "Fuck." You whine again, sensing the room quickly heating up.

"Lay back, sweetheart." He coos, and you happily obey him. Steve watches intently as Eddie pulls your jeans and panties down your legs, discarding them to the floor. You lift your shirt up over your head, tossing it away as well. You're fully exposed to them now, and they swear they've never seen a prettier sight. "You're so fuckin' gorgeous, angel. You want us to make you feel good?" You gaze between them again, these two beautiful men are so eager to please you. You always wonder how you got so lucky.

"Yes, please." The second the words leave your lips, Eddie begins massaging your tit with his hand. And Steve spreads your legs open a little, slowly dragging his hand up your thigh until he reaches your dripping cunt. His fingers teasingly touch your folds, feeling the wetness for himself. "Fuck, Steve." You moan, which spurs him on to slip two fingers into your needy hole. Eddie lifts your torso so he can latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, drawing more noises from you. Your arm goes around his shoulders to hang on, savoring every swirl of his tongue on your flesh. Steve pumps his fingers in and out of you at an agonizing pace, revving you up. "God, I love you two. I love everything you do to me."

"We love you too, baby. You're such a good girl for us." Steve replies, rewarding your confession by fingering you faster. A roaring fire has ignited inside you, spreading through your core, radiating to your limbs. You pull Eddie's head away from your breast, smashing your lips onto his aggressively. He bites your lip, and your mouth falls open to invite his tongue to tangle with yours. The two of you moan into the kiss, and Eddie's jeans are extremely tight from his erection. Steve looks at the two of you, hardening inside his own pants as you continue making out. Your moans are trapped in Eddie's throat, overwhelming sensation consistently rushes through you.

You break away to breathe, laying back down as Steve turns Eddie's face with his finger to have a kiss of his own. Your chest rises and falls rapidly while you watch them, their groans pushing you further to the edge. They're so fucking pretty, you'll never get enough of the display before you. Eddie tangles his hands into Steve's hair, not wanting to let go for a single second. You can feel their dicks poking into your back and ass, you want them inside you so badly. But you know better than to expect it so early on. They're just getting started with you, and each other. Steve's hand continues to please you, squelching noises from your wet cunt mingling with everyone's moans. "Fuck." You mutter, the tell-tale waves of pleasure washing over you, gradually getting stronger as Steve brushes against your g spot over and over.

Steve senses your oncoming orgasm, grunting slightly as he puts his free hand on Eddie's chest. Their lips part ways, shuddering breaths flowing out as they do. Their gaze meets yours, wide grins spread on their faces. "Are you gonna cum, darling? I can feel your pussy clenching my fingers." Steve teases, using his thumb to rub your clit in circles to drive you further towards the edge. The waves are crashing even harder into you, and your body is slicked over with sweat. You're so close it's almost unbearable.

"Yes, I'm so close. Please don't stop, make me cum. It feels so fucking good." You plead at the both of them, although Eddie's only stroking your cheek at this point. Your walls are fluttering, you're as close to the edge as you can possibly be. You moan and curse and call their names, and all they can do is drink it all in. It takes everything in them to not cream their jeans, the sight of you coming undone is so beautifully vulgar.

"Hmm, maybe you should stop, Steve. To punish her for not paying attention during the movie." Eddie suggests, trying to get under your skin. You can't hide the fear in your eyes, watching Steve contemplate the idea.

"No, please!" You almost scream, begging for your release. They chuckle at how pitiful you are, body trembling and hair sticking to the perspiration on your face.

"It's okay, babygirl. I'm not as sadistic as Munson is. Cum for me, you've earned it." He coos at you, his husky tone sending you into pure bliss.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out, your back arching as your legs begin to shake uncontrollably. You cum hard on Steve's hand, your juices spilling into his lap. The air is stolen from your lungs, and your eyes have rolled to the back of your head. The boys gently caress your body as your high runs its course, gradually bringing you back to reality.

"You did so well, Y/N. Such a good little slut." Steve says as he pulls his fingers out of you. You whine at the loss of him, your cunt pulsing around nothing. You observe closely as he brings his fingers to Eddie's lips, which immediately open to accept the taste of you. Eddie moans as he sucks them clean, savoring your sweet, musky flavor.

"God, that's so fucking hot." You blurt out, and they just look and laugh at you. Your cheeks flash bright red, and you sit up to be level with the two of them. All three of your faces are dangerously close to one another, bated breath fanning into each other's mouths. You lean forward to kiss Steve, and he happily meets you in the middle. He's quick to slip you the tongue, deepening the passionate kiss. Eddie lowers his head to mark your neck with dark hickeys, sucking the flesh between his teeth. You can't help being highly aware that your boyfriends still have all their clothes on, lowering your hands to tug at the hems of their shirts simultaneously. They get the message, pulling away from you for a moment to remove the offending garments.

Before you can catch your breath, Eddie captures your lips with his own. Steve attacks your chest, biting and licking all over your tits. Your hands play around on their bare torsos, letting the warmth from their flesh radiate through your fingers. You let your hands wander down their stomachs, migrating to their clothed erections. You palm them through their jeans, causing them to moan against you. You start undoing Steve's fly, still stroking Eddie as you work. You open the button, slowly pulling down the zipper. You let Steve be for a second, needing both hands to unbuckle Eddie's belt. Once both of their pants are open for you, you reach inside to fully feel their hard cocks in your grasp. They moan even louder, spurring you on. You begin to jerk them off, riling them up as much as you can before they inevitably devour you. "Shit, Y/N." Steve groans as he keeps kissing your chest.

"Stand up, sweetheart." Eddie says, pulling away from you. His eyes burn with lust, he's eagerly waiting for the opportunity to remove the rest of his clothes. You do as he asks, though Steve whines at the loss of contact. "Patience, loverboy." Eddie gives him a warning look, sending a chill down his spine. The two of them remove their pants and boxers, their dicks standing at attention as more clothing piles onto the floor. You glance between the two of them, taking in their beautiful naked bodies.

"So, how do you wanna do this?" You ask, the positions are truly endless between the three of you. Hell, quite a few times it'll be two of you doing things while the third masturbates as they watch. Your mind is foggy from your earlier orgasm, unable to decide what you want. All you know is that you want them, in every way they'll give themselves to you. There's thoughtful silence for a moment, before Steve pipes up.

"I have one." He says, smirking as he's confident you'll both be into it. Although, that's not exactly a rare achievement. "Eds, do you want head, or to fuck Y/N?" Steve looks at him nonchalantly, truly not minding which role Eddie would prefer.

"Hmmm...dealer's choice, big boy. It's your idea, so you pick." Eddie pokes his chest, teasing him.

Steve sighs, annoyed at Eddie's refusal to make a choice. "Alright, fine! I'll take the head! Goddammit, you couldn't make a decision to save your life. You know that?" You can't help giggling at his frustration, he's just so adorable when he gets flustered. He fixes you with a glare, and you abruptly shut yourself up. Steve takes on a more dominant role now, quick to order you into position. "Y/N, kneel in front of me." You drop to your knees, placing yourself between his legs. "Now, try to lay yourself on your stomach, ass in the air as much as you can." You obey, keeping eye contact as you rest your hands on his thighs, your mouth ready to take his needy cock. "Good girl." He nods as he praises you, stroking your cheek lovingly. His eyes flick to Eddie. "I think you can figure out where you're supposed to be. So get to it." He plants a firm kiss on Eddie's lips, gesturing for him to get on his own knees behind you.

"I love it when you boss me around, Harrington." Eddie quips, earning a hard smack on his ass from Steve as he stands up. "Jesus." He yelps, almost falling over.

"I don't want to hear another word out of that smart mouth of yours. Otherwise, you can just sit and watch Y/N blow me, got it?" Steve's brows have furrowed, clearly unamused by Eddie's antics today.

"Okay, sorry. Jeez." Eddie replies, putting his hands up defensively. He turns to position himself behind you, caressing your ass. You moan slightly, wanting to push yourself back into him. But Steve said to stay as you are, and you'd hate to disobey an order.

"Good boy." Steve praises Eddie, which makes him blush. His eyes flick back to you, smiling again. "Suck, Y/N." He says simply, and you happily oblige. You take all of him in your mouth, and he groans loudly. "Good girl, just like that." You're dripping again, arousal falling into a small puddle on the floor. You love giving the boys head, they always shower you with praise as you suck them off. "Now, Eddie. You can tease Y/N with your dick, but you can't fuck her until I say so. Understood?" He says through shallow breaths, already so wound up he's not sure how long he can last.

"I understand." Eddie replies, knowing just how torturous Steve's command will be for you and himself. Nonetheless, he grips his cock in his hand, using the other to hold steady on your back. He slides himself against your folds, causing you to moan on Steve. Eddie shudders at your wetness spreading on him, it's so warm, he almost can't resist plunging into you right now. But he knows Steve will punish him if he does so, he'll just have to grin and bear it.

"Good boy, Eds. Tell me how it feels, babe." Steve says, trying to hold himself back. It's a difficult feat, you're a goddess at giving head.

"It's so warm, I want to be inside Y/N's pussy so bad. It feels so good, but it's not enough." Eddie almost whines, causing Steve to laugh.

"Poor thing." He says sarcastically. Eddie's tempted to shoot him a death glare, but decides against it. Instead, he just strokes your folds a little faster, desperate for some friction.

Meanwhile, you're gagging yourself on Steve, swirling your tongue around his length as you bob your head up and down. Eddie's teasing is driving you insane, you just want him to fuck you already. A continuous hum of moans streams from you, sending vibrations through Steve. Eddie's making vulgar noises behind you, clearly distressed. You can feel Steve tensing up beneath you, signaling his oncoming release.

"You can fuck her now, Eddie. I'm gonna cum." Steve chokes out, gripping the top of the couch as his high overtakes him. "FUCK!" He shouts, emptying into your mouth, thick white ropes coating your throat. You swallow every last drop, letting his cock fall from your lips. Eddie shoves his length into you without warning, he thankfully waited until Steve finished so you didn't accidentally bite him from the surprise.

"Oh god!" You cry out, gripping Steve's thighs desperately as Eddie pounds ruthlessly into your cunt. His pace is quickly building you up, setting your insides ablaze yet again. Steve's gaze migrates between you and Eddie, taking in every face and sound you make.

"Fuck, you're so soaked for me, princess. So hot and tight around my cock." Eddie moans, gripping your hips roughly, his fingers will most certainly leave bruises from digging into your skin. He slams into your pussy as hard and fast as he can, brushing your g spot and hitting your cervix repeatedly. He's gone into feral mode at this point, driven to the brink of madness from all the teasing. You're not exactly complaining, you love getting absolutely railed by these men.

"Well, go on, slut. Tell Eddie how much you love getting fucked like the whore you are." Steve smirks, quickly becoming hard again from watching the two of you.

You look at Steve as you speak, trying to keep a steady voice despite wanting to moan. "You feel so good inside me, Eds. I love it when you fuck me like this. I'm so wet for you, you fill me up so well." It's difficult to piece words together, but it amplifies the pleasure all around, which makes it worth the effort. You're nearing the finish line again, you'd barely had time to recover from your first orgasm. Steve smiles at your words, and you return the grin as best you can before continuing. "Just like that, baby. Make me cum, I know you want to."

Eddie heeds your words, taking them as a challenge. He fucks you even faster, and brings a hand around to rub your clit in rapid circles. "Such a dirty little slut, begging me to make you cum." He says through gritted teeth into your ear, and you just moan loudly in response. He's deep in concentration, his thrusts beginning to go haywire as he nears his end. His eyes burn into Steve's, who just sits there smiling as the two of you put on this obscene show for him. Pleasure is slowly washing over you again, and you want to fall off the edge together.

"Fuck, Eddie, I'm so close. Don't stop, I want you to cum with me. I wanna feel you lose control." You may be toying with him a little, but you truly mean every filthy word you say. You hold on tighter to Steve's thighs, though the sweat coating your skin makes it difficult. You push yourself backwards to meet Eddie's thrusts, ripping more noises from your mouths.

"You're a very naughty girl, princess. So needy for my cock." He groans, his stomach tensing up as his orgasm quickly approaches. His hips rut against your ass, loud smacking mingling with your moans and curses. It takes everything in him to keep going at this ungodly pace, any second now he's going to explode. You slam yourself backwards into him harder than before, sealing both your fates. "Oh, god!" Eddie yells, bucking his hips uncontrollably as his dick empties into you. You feel his load paint your walls, and your own bliss overtakes you.

"Eddie!" You scream, nails digging into Steve's legs as white hot flames consume your body. Your mouth falls agape, eyes screwing shut. Eddie's still going, unable to stop himself as you clamp down on him. This only serves to prolong the pleasure, it's almost too much. "Oh my god!" You shout again, struggling to stay on your knees as your legs tremble. Fluid erupts from your pussy, splashing onto Eddie's thighs and the floor.

"Fuck, Y/N." Eddie mutters, the sensation of you soaking his cock makes his brain melt. Your head falls into Steve's lap, and you're almost gasping for air as you wait for the stars to leave your vision. Eddie stops moving, collapsing onto your back. He pants in your ear, and his chest sticks to you from all the sweat. "God, I love you." He says breathlessly, needing a good minute to recover before pulling out.

"I love you too, baby." You reply, swallowing hard.

"And I love you both." Steve chimes in, stroking the tops of your heads with his hands. You all stay like this for a few minutes, trying to steady your heartbeats. When he can finally stand up straight, Eddie slowly removes himself from your cunt. You both hiss at the feeling, very overstimulated. Your mixed release drips from your hole, joining the puddle you've made on the hardwood. "Looks like someone made a mess." Steve quips, lifting your face to look at him. You give him a weak smile, unable to move. Still holding your gaze, he speaks to the man standing behind you. "Eddie, baby? Be a dear and grab a towel to clean this up."

"Sure thing, King Steve." Eddie bows dramatically, smirking at his own antics. He leaves the room to retrieve the towel, and you finally decide to make an attempt at getting up. You grip Steve's knees, putting one foot down and then the other. You let your torso gradually fix itself upright, blinking away the spots in your vision. "You alright there, darling?" Eddie asks as he reenters the room.

"Yeah, I'm alright." You say in a strained voice, leaning with your hands on your lower back to stretch out. Your joints pop, and you go back to your original stance with a satisfied sigh. Eddie's kneeling on the floor again, wiping up your cum. You notice his ass is in perfect view, and you can't help staring while biting your lip. You sneak up behind him, lowering your hand to give him a hard smack.

"Jesus!" Eddie yelps, not expecting you to spank him. You don't touch the guys like that very often, though they don't mind it. They actually wish you did it more, the sting of your palm on their flesh turns them on immensely. "I suppose I should take all the spanking as a compliment. After all, I do have the best ass out of the three of us." He grumbles as he finishes his task, tossing the soiled towel onto the piled up clothes. They'll all be gathered for the wash later on anyway.

"No way, mine is far superior. Know why? Because I work out. Meanwhile, your ass is so flat, I could eat off of it." Steve remarks, you can never get enough of their silly bickering.

"Oh yeah? Then why don't you?" Eddie teases, abruptly getting up to shove his butt in Steve's face.

"Aw, man! Get off!" Steve protests, putting his hands up to shield himself. Eddie cackles, refusing to let up. You burst out laughing, Eddie's always been very playful, if not a bit childish.

"Not until you say my ass is better!" He taunts in a sing-song voice, he could keep this going all day. You try to stop laughing, walking over to pull Eddie away. But he stops you. "No helping, Y/N! He has to say it!" He wiggles his backside even more, upping the game.

"God, you're such a fucking child! Fine, you have the best ass! Now, get away before you fart in my face!" Eddie finally moves away, turning with his hands on his hips. He's very pleased with himself, smiling ear to ear.

"Hmmm, I think you're both wrong. My ass is clearly better than both of yours combined." You say matter-of-factly, and they just scoff at you.

"Yeah right!"

"No way!" Their words overlap, eyes rolling simultaneously. And you just chuckle at them.

"Observe." You say simply, turning your back to them, before bending over as far as you can to pick up some of the stray clothing from the floor. You move slowly, ensuring they'll stare intently as you move.

"Okay, you win." They groan in unison, happily conceding the title to you. You stand upright again, facing them.

"Good boys." They blush at your words, oddly mirroring each other as they stroke their necks awkwardly. "So, who's up for round two?"

To be continued…

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chairofchaos · 6 months ago

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When the Blood Burns

Blood (Part 1)

Burns (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Azriel and Eris find themselves drawn together during the first war with Hybern. (Requested here)

Rating: Explicit (see warnings- I mean it. I can give details in DMs if you want specifics before reading)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: violence, homophobia/homophobic violence (if you want details my DMs are open), graphic depictions of wounds and wound care with a very rudimentary understanding of the subject, alcohol use, and much less important than the others but still concerning: unedited.

A/N: Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for once again providing me with the perfect divider for this fic. Shoutout to @unanswered-stars forgiving me permission to do whatever I want with this request. And please know I tried to make it short. But now it's almost 10k so this is part 1 of 2. Maybe 3.

Their first meeting was unremarkable. Azriel, blinded with rage over Eris’ rejection of Mor and the ensuing pain it had caused his family, thought nothing of the young lord other than how callous he had been, and avoided him under the orders of his High Lord.

So the first time they had truly met was in a war tent five years and seven months into the war with Hybern. Eris stood with his elder brother behind Beron’s seat at the round table. Rhys and Azriel stood shoulder to shoulder behind Rhys’ father. When the High Lords had dismissed their advisors for a recess in planning, somehow only Eris and Azriel found themselves walking outside.

They were silent. Azriel scanned the passing troops for any sign of Cassian. It had been three weeks since either he or Rhys had seen him, but there was a chance, stationed here near the western battle grounds, that they would encounter him. Still, even Azriel’s shadows hadn’t been able to locate his brother.

The shadows' presence was thin. There were only so many he could task, only so many he could control. Only a fraction of his usual cloud of shades stayed with him. Still, they whispered to him.

“The Autumn lord watches you,” they hissed. They seemed less concerned than intrigued. It wasn’t often people stared directly at him, and yet when Azriel turned his head, the lordling was staring, openly and with no concern.

“Can I help you?”

Eris shrugged evenly. His face was impassive, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care Azriel would notice the shuffle of his feet. “No.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you have something you want to say.”

Eris’ lips pinched, his eyes darting to the tent entrance. “You have less shadows this time.”

“Yes.”

Eris waited, but Azriel was more patient and well aware that the Lord just wanted him to speak. Finally, Eris sighed. “Are you… well?”

Well? Azriel was… oh. He dared a glare. The lord was nosy. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You have less shadows. That isn’t a symptom of something being wrong?”

“No. It’s a symptom of being at war.”

“Ah,” the lord breathed. “That’s… good.”

Azriel didn't bother to respond before he turned and walked back into the tent. Such an odd male.

Two months passed before they crossed paths again. Azriel had shadow-walked to take a message from his High Lord to the High Lord of Winter. Rhys had been sent away as well. There was little to lure him back, so he would take advantage of the distance between the two encampments to take a night away. It was already after dark. He could safely return in the morning with no one noticing.

Once he retrieved the paper with the instructions, he walked the encampment shrouded in shadows. Here, Winter and Autumn soldiers did not mingle. In fact, the road Azriel walked through the camp was so stark a dividing line he found himself all alone. Except…

“Oof!”

A figure had darted awkwardly from behind a Winter tent. They were looking over their shoulder, and had plowed straight into Azriel.

Azriel snarled, wings flaring behind him to keep himself righted as the figure fell at his feet.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled, stepping back. His hand instinctively rested on Truth Teller’s handle while he glared at the figure. The road was so dark he couldn’t even see the insignia on the soldier’s tunic.

“I- My apologies.” It took Azriel the time it took for the male to scramble to his feet to place the voice.

“Vanserra?”

“Shadowsinger,” was the response. It was curt in a way Eris’ attempts at conversation hadn’t been previously. Yet this time, Azriel’s shadows said nothing.

“You really should watch where you’re going.”

“I know,” Eris snapped.

“Snippy tonight, aren’t we?” He had been moving quickly, and yet was no longer rushing. It was odd enough for Azriel to order shadows to examine him. It was dark, so it was easy for them to go unnoticed.

“Do I owe you courtesy?” was the bitter response.

“You crashed into me.” His shadows slithered about his ears, talking over one another.

“And I apologized.”

It was then that the shadows’ one-word report made sense. Blood. There was blood gushing from the male’s body. When he paused, Azriel could smell the metallic tang from Eris’ general direction, distinct from the days old blood scent of the camp around them. It was enough to send his shadows into a vague fury, as if they couldn’t decide whether this was something to be concerned about given who the male in question was.

Eris waited, standing there in complete stillness.

“You’re injured,” Azriel finally settled on.

Eris snorted. “And? So is everyone.”

“It isn’t a war wound. This camp has not seen battle in over a week and that wound is fresh.”

“Does it matter?” Eris snapped. “I don’t know why you bother to bring it up at all.”

Azriel took a deep breath. “Because if you’re fighting next to my brother your injury could get him killed. I know you haven’t seen much battle, but from what I’ve heard your father is doing everything he can to keep you on the front lines to get you killed. I’d rather not give him the satisfaction if it means my brother dies.”

Autumn and Night court soldiers had been fighting alongside each other frequently. With Winter replacing Night Court forces in this camp, chances were dwindling, but it wasn’t a risk Azriel was willing to take.

Eris tried a new tactic: complete silence. Still, Azriel saw his silhouette cross his arms defensively. It was a bad move. His hands were pinned where they were, and he was already off balance. Azriel took the opportunity to reach a hand out and shove the male’s shoulder with a moderate amount of force.

Eris’ sharp intake of breath gave Azriel more pause than he expected. “I’ll tend your wound,” Azriel said gruffly. “I refuse to let you get killed over some stupid fight with a soldier from another court.”

Still, Eris didn’t move.

“You can walk, can’t you? You were doing fine when you ran into me.”

“I’m fine,” Eris bit out. “Leave.”

Azriel snorted. Now he definitely wouldn’t leave the male alone. “No. You’re in more danger like that than you know.”

“And what would you know of it?” Eris all but hissed at him, arms uncrossing to clench against his sides. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should,” Azriel snapped back. “I should terrify you. I could have killed you about thirty different ways in the course of this conversation.”

“You’re not touching my– wound.” Eris’ voice broke.

“You aren’t tending it yourself.”

“I’ll go to a healer.”

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “You won’t. Because if your father finds out he’ll use it to his advantage. Why does he hate you so much?”

“I can handle it myself,” Eris’ voice was losing all conviction and confidence.

“No.”

“Leave.”

“I trust you know somewhere safe enough. I’ll get the supplies and meet you there. A shadow will tell me where you end up, or I can winnow us there.”

That seemed to give Eris pause. “I thought shadowsingers did something called shadow-walking.”

Azriel balked. It was rare anyone bothered to know the difference, let alone remark on it. He nodded, then remembered the male likely couldn’t see him. He cleared his throat before saying, “Yes.”

“Can we shadow-walk?” Now, the lord just sounded tired.

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“North of camp, there’s a glade.”

“It’s safe?”

“Yes.” Eris reached his right hand out.

Azriel gripped the male’s wrist roughly with his own right hand, binding their hands together with shadows who seemed all too eager. “Don’t let go,” he warned.

“I won’t.”

A blink and a breath of complete darkness followed before they arrived in the clearing, which Azriel’s shadows had found quickly. A small fire was reduced near to ashes in the center of the glade, but it was more light than the road had held. Eris moved to drop Azriel’s hand, but the shadowsinger shook his head, motioning for the lord to stay silent and wait.

The shadows not binding them together scattered, darting around the trees at the outskirts and winding back to Azriel once they had cleared the area and confirmed its safety. “Safe. Safe. Safe,” was their chorus, one after the other.

When Azriel was satisfied, he sent a third of them for supplies, tasking another third to unroll the lord’s bedroll, which they had found tucked in an oak, next to the fire. Dropping Eris’ hand, he crossed to a small pile of wood at the edge of the glade and collected half of it to bank the fire. Eris stayed where he was, watching silently.

“Come sit,” Azriel ordered, pointing to the bedroll as he squatted to blow at the cinders and coals and encourage what little flame was left to grow, to light the new wood and give them more light and heat. Eris made no move to help him, so Azriel didn’t bother to ask.

With the increasing light, Azriel could see the dark gleaming of what had to be blood down Eris’ thigh as he walked. There was a lot. The side of his leg was saturated to the top of his boot, while the wound seemed to originate near his hip bone. It had to be nasty for Eris to be bleeding that much. That explained why he hadn’t offered to help with the fire, or, better yet, to feed the fire himself with his power. Yet, he walked.

That took strength. Azriel almost found it in himself to be impressed as the male lowered himself gracefully to the ground.

His shadows had begun piling bandages and other important things by Azriel’s side. He sent one of them off in pursuit of a new pair of pants for the lord, who wouldn’t be wearing this pair again without an excellent laundress, and those who could keep secrets were in short supply in a war camp when information was money.

“Take your pants off,” Azriel commanded. Eris winced.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“I'll have to cut them off.”

Eris hesitated, his eyes darting to Truth Teller. “Be careful.”

How badly hurt was he, that he would allow Azriel to have a knife that close to his skin, to vital blood supply?

As the light increased, so did Azriel’s concern that the male’s condition may not be as stable as he originally thought. His skin seemed to pale more and more with every flare of the fire. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the chilly night around them. And he was obedient. Vanserras, in Azriel's admittedly limited experience, were never obedient. Certainly not to orders given from a Night Court grunt.

As if they sensed his growing concern, shadows dispatched to scan the male again. They returned with whispers of blood and wounds– multiple. Azriel nearly sighed. This was perhaps a bigger job than he anticipated. He sent shadows now to retrieve his own bedroll and bag. He’d be damned if the last thing anyone saw before the autumn lord died was the two of them together, and there was no real way to guarantee he hadn’t been seen with Eris on that road. Damn it all.

“How many wounds are there?” he asked, unsheathing Truth-Teller and setting the supplies beside Eris.

“Just the one.”

“Don’t lie to me. If you die, it’s my wings they’ll come after.”

Eris glanced over Azriel’s shoulder at the reddish membranes which were his constant companion, his pride and joy.

“Three.”

“Only three?”

“Only three,” Eris confirmed.

“Where?”

Eris gestured at his right shoulder, waved a hand over his injured leg, and then looked away.

“That’s two,” Azriel commented. “You’re going to need to take that tunic off, too, but let’s start with your leg.”

Eris laid back. Azriel reached into his boot to retrieve a flask and offer it up. “Whiskey. It’ll take the sting off.”

Eris grimaced, but took the flask anyways, draining what was left of the alcohol from it before handing it back.

Azriel knelt at his side, the fire on Eris’ other side giving him light to work. Truth Teller made quick work of a cut through Eris’ pants from ankle to waist, and Azriel sheathed the blade quickly. When he removed the fabric a barrier which had begun to form to protect the wound would be removed, and he needed to know everything he could before that happened.

“What blade was used?”

Eris blinked at him slowly. He was fading, fast. “A dagger.”

“Was it poisoned?”

“No,” Eris shook his head with conviction.

“Was there anything special about the blade?”

“Standard Winter court issue,” he said.

Azriel nodded. “Alright. This is going to hurt.”

Eris paused, looking at Azriel, then turning his head to the fire. Azriel barely heard the quiet “I know” which followed.

Azriel pulled the fabric of the male’s pants away from him and grimaced. Eris didn't even flinch. The cut went across the male’s hipbone nearly twelve inches to the outside of his upper thigh, getting deeper as if Eris had rolled into the knife to protect his midline.

“Tell me what happened,” Azriel ordered as his hands began to move. Damn it all, they were cold. And tired. He was so tired. But he couldn’t let Eris die. For some reason, he needed the male to live.

“No.” Eris countered with a fire he hadn’t shown all evening. It was the first anger Azriel had heard from the male, and it awoke something in him. He dumped three antiseptic potions across the wound. Eris barely moved, blinking up at the stars.

“You could die,” Azriel snarled, pressing bandages against the seeping wound. “Why? You are the son of a high lord. If it was a standard issue Winter court blade it likely wasn't anybody of your status. Why protect them?”

Eris bit his lower lip. Azriel pulled Truth Teller out to cut through what was left of the male’s pants and underwear and remove them. A long strip of fabric wound around the male’s waist, then around his upper thigh, to secure the padding of bandages against the long wound. When Azriel was certain the bands wouldn’t move, he tied them off in a quick knot and looked up at the lord’s face.

His eyes were closed, his face turned slightly toward the fire. He looked slightly flushed, and yet entirely too pale. His breathing was shallow. He needed water. Food, too. He didn’t seem to be interested in answering any more questions. Maybe those things would loosen his lips.

First, the other wounds. The removal of all his clothing revealed a gash along his shoulder, about four inches long. It wasn’t deep, but it was angled, and the skin could be folded back away from the wound. Azriel stitched that one with quick stitches. He would have stitched the large one, but without any indication that it wouldn’t get infected, he was unsure about closing it with the sutures which would solidify by the time the horizon had light on it. An infection growing beneath the skin was much worse than a scar from skin knitting itself back together.

The last wound didn’t immediately present itself, so Azriel had nudged Eris until he grudgingly rolled onto his side.

His bare back was a maze of scars. Azriel was struck immediately by how well his hands blended with the mottled skin of Eris’ back, burns seemingly crisscrossed by the stripes of what had to have been made by a very long, thick whip. It turned his stomach to see just how broken the male’s back was. They weren’t that different in age, and Azriel had his fair share of scars. But this was a level of brutality Azriel hadn’t expected to find carved into the male’s skin. It was no doubt he hadn’t flinched at the stitches, or even the bandaging. He had to be intimately familiar with both.

One wound on his back, a long stripe across his shoulder blade, was red and struggling to close. Azriel stitched that closed, too, before throwing the bandages he had used to wipe the male’s blood away into the fire. Seeming to know it was over, Eris rolled back onto his back. He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing seemed slightly steadier.

Azriel grabbed his bag from where the shadows had dumped it unceremoniously behind him and retrieved a tin of dried meat and crackers.

“Eat,” he ordered, setting the tin on Vanserra's stomach. “I’m getting us water.”

Eris cracked an eye open to stare at him. “Fine.”

Azriel ordered some shadows to scout ahead for water, and some to watch over the lordling, as he unrolled his own bedroll next to Eris. Better to have the fire lord between him and the fire, he told himself.

His shadows returned with a satisfactory report, so he went when he was certain Eris would eat more than a bite or two.

On his return, the container sat on his bedroll, half the food gone.

“You should eat more,” Azriel said, nudging it towards him.

Eris shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Drink, then,” he tried. Eris nodded, reaching a reluctant hand to grip the offered bottle.

He propped himself up on an elbow to drink, and swallowed until he finished the whole bottle with a gasp. “Thank you.”

Azriel nodded. He felt as though he hovered over the lord, but he found himself unsettled. “I’ll take the watch.”

Eris didn’t argue or say they didn’t need one. It would have been a lie neither of them would have accepted. He just nodded, dropping his head back and closing his eyes again.

Azriel didn’t bother to wake him through the rest of the night. When light began to peek over the horizon, Eris stirred on his own, sitting up with a groan and a stretch.

“Thank you,” he said again.

Azriel nodded. “I need to check your–”

“No,” Eris said abruptly, sitting. “Enough. I will go back to camp, and so should you.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t fight like this.”

Eris smirked up at him. “I’ve done it before.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Azriel narrowed his eyes.

Eris shrugged, shuffling awkwardly until he was on his feet, even though he panted. “That’s fine.”

“I just spent last night putting you back together. If I hear you undo that work, I’ll kill you,” Azriel protested. Eris seemed to soften at that. “I think you should go.”

Azriel bristled even as his shadows obeyed his silent order to retrieve all his things. “Fine.”

“I’ll burn away any trace of you being here,” Eris assured him, waving a hand at his bedroll. It disappeared.

Azriel nodded. “Check those wounds this morning.”

Eris nodded. “I will.”

When Azriel had his bag and bedroll in hand, he shadow-walked away, Eris not sparing him more than a moment’s glance as he disappeared from view.

Their third meeting was much like the first. Outside a war tent, the Autumn court delegation lingered in hushed circles. Their forces had been hit hard in the last of Hybern’s offensives. No doubt they were reconsidering their participation in the ongoing war, if only to save the rest of their soldiers. Still, from the thick of the fray strode Eris Vanserra, his gait no less even than it had been the first times Azriel had seen him.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch him as he stood outside the tent. They had tightened the circle allowed in. The recent losses had been too stark to eliminate the possibility that someone on the council or one of their advisors was selling information or even was an agent of Hybern. It was no doubt that fact which kept the sons close, and everyone else at a very great distance. Still, Azriel could watch from here. Could keep an eye out for either of his brothers.

Shadows told him nothing of them. Their names were not on the rolls. But here was Eris. Alive, breathing. He would have known if Eris had died. And Eris had not.

“Shadowsinger,” a curt acknowledgement. Azriel nodded firmly in return. No words could explain his relief, even to himself. Eris rolled his shoulders, his embroidered coat restricting his motions. Instead of walking past Azriel, the lord stopped at his side.

“Thank you,” Eris murmured. If Azriel hadn’t been attuned to the male's presence, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was dangerous to speak this openly. Eris had to know that. Surely, a High Lord’s son would know that speaking to the spymaster of another court was dangerous. Surely.

Azriel turned to walk away. He would not risk it, but Eris still tried. “Azriel.”

He spun to face Eris, schooling his face into an angry mask. “What?”

Eris’ eyes flashed with an answering anger, then cooled. “I saw your brother. The soldier.”

This was unexpected. Azriel’s eyes narrowed. How would Eris know he searched for his brothers?

As if anticipating the question, Eris stepped closer. “Your shadows, the ones who stayed, told me. I asked them how I could… repay you. They told me. He’s in the next camp over. Injured, but not badly. Ask for Madja.”

Shadows zipped away from Azriel faster than he could respond. He had left some of them with Eris that morning to ensure the male checked and cleaned his wounds.

Now, Eris watched them go, nodding once, then walking on past Azriel. Eris knew what it meant to see those shadows go out. It was all he had needed to see.

Azriel may not be able to get away on his own, but he could send those shadows. They would find Cassian, who would recognize them and maybe even be able to get away for a day.

More pressing was that the shadows had spoken to Eris. Had deemed him worthy of information about Azriel. That happened so rarely. Only when Azriel was truly in need of something, or on the rarest of occasions, when he was in true danger, would his shadows bother to try to communicate with anyone. Never before had they shared with someone as nonsensical as Eris Vanserra. He would ask them later why. He hoped they would tell him.

Someone was calling his name. It was the middle of the night, and his shadows were rousing him from sleep with a frantic energy. Months had passed since he had seen Cassian, or Rhys. He had only just gotten back from a scouting mission in Hybern that evening. The war still raged, still slowly marching them all toward death.

But someone was calling his name. “Hurry,” his shadows urged him. “Fight.”

The second prompt was enough to speed him. He rarely slept without weapons at hand, and he grabbed two Illyrian blades and strapped them to his back with the speed of a soldier who had been at war for over six years.

Finally ready, he ordered his shadows to take him where they willed. Emerging from their total darkness into the moonless night with Truth Teller clenched in his hand, he found himself at the edge of that familiar glade.

This time, it was anything but peaceful. Eris fought against three warriors dressed in dark clothes, their faces concealed by darkness. Azriel recognized the fighting style more than the clothing, and it was for good reason Eris didn’t bother to use his powers.

In a split second, Azriel shadow-walked to be behind the Autumn court soldiers, disarming one with ease while Eris held his own against the second. Azriel’s blade slid into the side of the throat and was pulled through the front, removing the attacker’s ability to scream as his life faded to a bloody end.

The third spun from Eris to Azriel. He opened his mouth, but behind him, Eris flicked a dagger from his waist, the blade glinting before Azriel saw the male’s head jerk forward. When he fell, the handle of the blade stuck at a perfect right angle from the base of the male’s skull.

As Azriel had drawn Eris’ attention, his moment’s glance to throw the blade had left his left side unguarded. The remaining autumn warrior took advantage of the opening, and launched himself at the lord. His hand closed around the lord’s throat, and Eris was knocked toward Azriel, but Azriel was faster than the other warrior had perhaps anticipated.

In the span of moments, Azriel had removed the male’s hand from Eris’ throat, disarmed him, and bound him hand and feet with a cord he kept coiled in his boot for moments like this. His shadows had been dispatched to guard the borders of the glade.

Eris rubbed his neck as he offered a wad of cloth to Azriel, who crouched beside the bound warrior. Azriel took the fabric and shoved it into his mouth until he was satisfied the male wouldn’t be able to remove it.

“You need to kill him,” Eris said quietly.

“I know,” Azriel said. The male’s eyes settled on Azriel as if he had only just now recognized the winged warrior. He began to scream through the fabric. Azriel’s remaining shadows spun around the warrior, examining him.

“Why do you scream?” Eris asked, crouching beside Azriel. “You chose to attack me. Your death was predetermined.”

The male’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then back to Eris, then back to Azriel again as his screaming increased in volume.

Eris snorted. “You truly think the death he will give you is worse than the death I could?”

Azriel couldn’t help but watch the Lord of Autumn as Eris stood.

“A word, Azriel.” Eris looked down his nose at the screaming soldier. Azriel stood. They walked some distance away before Eris paused and looked over his shoulder at their prisoner.

“We have to kill him,” Eris said. “He recognized you.”

“That’s not surprising,” Azriel said. “Why did they come after you in the first place?”

Eris sighed. “I did something I shouldn’t have, and got caught doing it. Whether my father sent them or they took it upon themselves, I don’t know.”

Azriel paused. “What, exactly, were you doing?” If Eris was spying for Hybern, if he had used Azriel somehow…

Eris sighed. “I slept with one of their brothers.”

Oh. Oh. Prythian was generally safe for males like Eris. And Azriel. But some families held old ways of thinking that would incense hatred beyond caring that Eris was the son of a High Lord. It was that which kept Azriel hiding. He lacked the protection offered to Eris. Currently, he lacked even the protection of his brothers.

So Azriel just nodded. When Azriel didn’t say anything, Eris sighed.

“How did you come here?”

“My shadows sent me. They were concerned.”

“Have they been watching me?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel admitted. “Sometimes they follow their own whims.”

Eris nodded. “I can handle him.”

“Do you want to?” What was one more body on Azriel’s tally? He’d killed nearly thirty yesterday, getting away from the Hybern guard who had started asking too many of the right questions. What was one more, in the face of the river of blood which had flowed from his hands?

“Not really,” Eris sighed.

“You sound weary,” Azriel dared. After six years he was more than used to the ebb and flow of fights and battles, yet his heart still pounded in his chest.

“I am.”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Eris said nothing in return but bowed his head.

Azriel crossed back to the bound warrior, who had started trying to roll and scramble away from them with whatever faculty he retained. Azriel placed a booted heel against the man’s collarbone, his toes grounded to the earth as he stood above the male.

“I’m going to take out the gag. Then you’re going to tell me who sent you, and what they wanted. If you don’t, I’ll torture you. This is your one chance. Do you understand?”

The male nodded, eyes glinting with starlight and terror. Azriel bent to remove the gag, whispering, “Scream, and I’ll gag you with something much more unpleasant than this fabric.”

He ripped it from the male’s mouth, and to his credit, the male said nothing.

“Who sent you?”

“No one. We came with him,” the male tipped his head at one of the bodies. “His brother died, and when they found his body on the battlefield, that bastard’s scent was all over him.”

“Eris’?” Azriel questioned.

The male nodded. “They were… intimate.” He said it with a snarl, as though Azriel would not know and was being deceived.

“You wanted to kill him.”

“Yes. For that, yes. It’s not–”

“Enough,” Eris’ voice sounded behind Azriel.

Azriel glared at him. “If it’s enough, kill him yourself.”

Eris shrugged. “Fine.”

The male opened his mouth to start screaming again, but Eris flicked his slender fingers. Azriel stepped back quickly as a reddish glow started emanating from the male’s throat and smoke began to billow from his mouth.

Eris was burning him. Burning him from the inside out. The light of life in the male’s eyes was steadily replaced by the glow of that slow burning fire until the male was nothing more than ash in the wind.

Eris turned to Azriel. “Thank you for coming.”

Azriel nodded. Why was he so hesitant to leave? The second the male was dead, he should have walked away. Dawn was nearing again. He would need to be back before the High Lord woke in case he had further questions after last night’s debrief. Six years and ten months of this. Azriel wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

“Thank you for finding Cassian for me.”

Eris smiled at that, not even looking as he lit the other two bodies on fire. “You saved my life.”

“You gave me the chance to see him. It had been a long time. It means more than I think you realize.”

Eris shook his head. “I imagine if I had a brother I trusted I would do just about anything in my power to see him.”

Azriel chuckled at that. “No friends among family?”

Eris sighed ruefully. “I’m afraid not.”

“Me neither. Except–”

They finished the sentence together, “my mother.”

“If you didn’t send for me,” Azriel crossed his arms, “Why did you trust I wasn’t there with them?”

Eris tipped his head back to stare at the sky. “My father has railed against your… proclivities in sexual partners. How he knew, I have no idea. I’ve never even heard whispers of you from anywhere else. I knew, if my father was somehow right, your presence was either on orders or to help me. I was willing to bet you wouldn’t kill me for something we share.”

“Beron knows about me?”

“Somehow. I think he had someone tailing you for a time, after Mor.”

Azriel bristled. He had been careful at 19, but apparently not careful enough. It was likely the best explanation. “You have no idea? Truly?”

Eris shrugs. “I was young when he brought it up. The timing seems right. I never put much thought into it.”

“So you assumed I was safe because of that.”

“No,” Eris laughed, quietly, but unmistakably amused. “No, I mostly assumed you were safe because the last time you saved my life you told me not to undo all of your hard work.”

“What happened then?” Azriel was demanding. He felt as though he was truly seeing the Autumn Lord, seeing him open and unguarded for the first time. Maybe now he could get answers.

Eris seemed to be willing to indulge him. “A winter court soldier didn’t realize who I was until I was on my way out of his tent. He tried to kill me.”

“It seems to me like you’re sleeping with the wrong people,” Azriel commented. Eris finally turned to face him, levelling him with a molten stare Azriel found himself drawn into. “And who are the right people?”

“People who have as much to lose as you do.”

“Like you?” Eris challenged.

Azriel shrugged. “Are you offering?”

Eris smirked, turning to face Azriel. Dawn was growing, and the red light of morning lighting the leaves around him gave him the appearance of a body of molten fire. “If you ever wish to take me to bed, Shadowsinger, show up. I have spells on the glade. It will let me know you’re here.”

Azriel laughed. “Chances are slim, Vanserra.”

“But not zero.” Eris raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a slightly mocking reflection of Azriel’s own stance.

“No.” Azriel admitted. “Not zero.”

#azris #azris fanfic #azris supremacy #eris vanserra #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #eris x azriel #azriel x eris #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x azriel #azriel x eris vanserra #my fics #fictionalchaos #requested #unanswered-stars #when the blood burns #when the blood burns fic

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felice-jaganshi · 10 months ago

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My Fallen Apple

Lucifer X Reader

Chapter 1

You weren't originally supposed to be in hell. You only ended up here after telling Adam you refused to be his Third wife. He was a bitter prick about it, and shoved you out of heaven. Last thing you saw as you fell, was the look of shock and regret on his face. Not that you cared. He didn't deserve your forgiveness or pity…

Next thing you knew when you opened your eyes was pain. A burning sensation from your back. Oh fuck, your wings! They- they're not supposed to bend like that! You scream in agony and despair, realizing you'd broken and bent your wings! There was no way to fly back up to heaven now!

“Someone… Someone help!” You cried out, hoping maybe somehow one of your friends in heaven could hear your prayers. But… it was pointless. No prayers from hell could ever reach heaven, not even from an angel. Now here you were… fallen.

“Whoa! That looks pretty bad.” A voice, footsteps getting closer!

“Please! I- I don't belong here!” You tried to sit up, barely managing it with a sob. You look up to see who the voice belonged to.

“I'll say, you're in my garden, almost landed in my rose bushes too.” A short man with blonde hair frowned at you with his arms crossed. “I swear, just because my wife has been off working for seven years, doesn't mean I'm magically single! How did you get in here?”

“I… fell… who are you?” He looked surprised by your words.

“Who am I?! You're kidding right?” You shook your head, and he got serious.

“where did you fall from?”

“Heaven…” He took a deep breath through his nose.

“I see…” He started walking towards you, and you started to pull your wings around to shield yourself, having forgotten they were broken. This made the firey pain flare back up! You hadn't noticed it go numb earlier, but now, you wished you hadn't moved them! You couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips. It made him stop moving.

“H- hey, I'm… I'm not gonna hurt you.” His voice was soft and low. “I promise, I just wanna help. Will you let me?” He held out his empty hands, waiting for permission before moving even a single step closer.

“Y-you still didn't answer my question. Who are you?” You had a sinking feeling…

“Me? Oh, nobody. Just the big boss of hell himself!” He chuckled at his own humor before shooting you a grin, “Call me Lucifer. And you are?”

Before you could answer, the world went dark, and you fell unconscious again.

The next time you open your eyes, you're in bed. A dream then. Thank God! But why have a nightmare about getting kicked out of heaven? Was it a warning Adam was gonna be a pissy shit when you gave him your answer today? You finally open your eyes and realize… this isn't your room. And… this isn't your bed! You sit up, wings curling around yourself as a shield and looking around frantically! Everything was extravagant and gilded! Some kind of palace suite? Then… oh. OH FUCK! YOU REALLY DID MEET LUCIFER!

“Oh hey, you're up! Great, hungry? I made pancakes.” The devil himself entered the room with a syrup soaked stack, steaming and fresh. Before you could refuse him, your stomach growled loudly, answering for you.

“I didn't think the devil would cook his own meals…” was all you could think to say. He set the tray in front of you, there was even a glass of juice.

“Why wouldn't I? Best way to make sure no one poisons me! Haha, not that it'd actually kill me.” He smiled, “oh, and you're welcome for healing you by the way. Once you're done eating, you can head back on up home.” He smiled and made a wing flapping motion with his arms. You giggle, it was kind of cute. He was so tiny, and handsome in a cute way. Not at all how heaven described him.

“You're… different from how heaven said you'd be.” You say, before eating some of the food he'd been generous enough to share. They were apple flavored.

“Oh really? And how is heaven describing me to you younger angels these days?” He raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

“They said you would be cruel. Take joy in the pain and suffering of others. That you didn't know how to laugh or smile, only how to hate and hurt… but, you just proved all of that wrong.”

Lucifer was shocked, “I… that's how they think of me? My own siblings are telling people this?” He looked hurt, gripping a hand to his heart. “Mikey and Gabe… they know I'm not… that I'd never…”

You got up from the bed, you couldn't stand seeing him like this, on the edge of tears from your own words! You should have found a gentler way to… ah fuck it, too late for that now. You pull him into a hug, wrapping your wings around him.

“I'm sorry.” You kept your tone soft and genuine, and that seemed to be the last straw. He hugged back and started bawling into your shoulder!

Now here you are, fallen from heaven, showing sympathy to the devil. You rubbed his back in soothing circles. “It's alright, let it all out, I got you.”

You weren't originally supposed to be in hell, but it didn't seem like such a bad place to be really.

(This was written for a very dear friend of mine. She's crazy for Lucifer, and I'm crazy about her so... yeah! Hope you all like it as much as she has!)

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #fallen apple #fallen angel

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playedcrowd5610 · 2 months ago

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Bedrest - Transformers x Danny Phantom Crossover

Summary: After the events of "Additional Medical Assistance Required," Knockout decides to put Danny on Bedrest. But Danny has other plans.

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Notes

Set in a series where Danny finds Starscream one day and decides to start haunting the Decepticons. That's basically all the context you need but if you want more here is the rest of the series:

Haunting the Nemesis

Part 1: Chasing Stars

Part 2: Burning Rubber

Part 3: Adventures of the Decepticons' Pet Ghost Or Tumblr Master List

---

Danny’s been put on bedrest, and he was not happy about it. He couldn’t believe it. And surprisingly, it was Knockout who had been the one to try to ensure Danny took care of himself.

“According to this information,” Knockout gestured to the screen behind him that displayed diagrams of human biology and notes that he had accumulated over the last day, “and what the human medic insisted," He rolled his optics. "Humans need rest to heal properly after sustaining significant injuries such as yours. Without it, they risk worsening their condition. So, until you’re healed, you’ll need to remain under constant Decepticon surveillance.”

Danny stared, slack-jawed, perched on the edge of the medical berth. Starscream stood on the other side of the medbay with his arms crossed as he listened. “You can’t be serious. I don’t need to be babysat! I’m fine! This sort of thing happens all the time,” Danny argued.

“The human medic was very clear that rest is essential. Well, when she was not scared out of her mind anyway,” Knockout replied, optics narrowing with a touch of exasperation. “And as the Decepticons’ chief physician."

"Only physician," Starscream muttered.

Knockout continued, ignoring the commander. "It’s my job to ensure the health of those on the ship.”. Danny would have appreciated the care that Knockout seemed to be showing him if it weren't for the fact that Danny. Didn’t. Need. Babysitting!

Danny scoffed, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “Since when do you listen to humans? I know my limits—it’s not that bad.” He paused, frustration filling his field. “And I’m not a Decepticon. You can’t just order me around.”

Starscream’s optics flickered as he stepped forward, his tone sharp but with an undertone Danny could almost mistake for concern. “If your health is at risk, you will listen to Knockout.”

Danny glared over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at Starscream. “You never follow orders when you’re on bedrest. You can’t make me stay here,” he snapped.

Knockout rolled his optics dramatically. “Yes, we can. Until your injuries heal, you are to—” He glanced at the notes on his monitor. Danny didn’t know if they were from the internet or from what the human nurse explained to the mech while Danny was unconscious. “—reduce strenuous activities such as stretching, running, walking, and maintain as much rest as possible. You’re to also remain in calm, non-stressful situations.”

“Right, because living on a Decepticon warship in the middle of a war is so stress-free.” Danny couldn’t help but laugh, though the motion made him wince as pain flared across his torso. He clutched his side, and Knockout raised an optic ridge while Starscream looked Danny up and down, wings flicking with concern.

Knockout let out an exaggerated sigh. “Doctor’s orders. Starscream, take him,” he said, waving a servo dismissively behind him. “I need to clean up my lab after the organic mess you left behind.” Knockout shuddered.

Danny opened his mouth to protest, but Starscream scooped him up with both servos before he could get a word out. The Seeker moved carefully, making sure he didn't move Danny too quickly and accidentally strain his injuries.

Danny sighed as Starscream carried him out of the medbay. He was now stuck with a crew of twenty-somthing-foot-tall, metal, battle-hardened babysitters who wouldn’t even let him walk on his own. It was going to be a long week.

Danny was already bored, and it had only been two hours. Usually, he would be perfectly fine sitting around in Starscream’s quarters while the Con went over datapads, but the fact that he had to stay there because the Cons said so made him want to explore more than ever.

Danny waited another few painstaking minutes, glancing around at his personal shelf. More and more personal items seemed to be added each month. Sometimes, he would find extra things placed in with his belongings that he hadn’t had before — things he was sure Starscream must have picked up on his little missions. He’d noticed that Starscream was a hoarder, but the Seeker kept everything meticulously organized and enjoyed collecting little gifts or souvenirs. Danny was confident that if he ever asked Starscream where the items came from, the Con would either ignore him or deny everything. The thought made Danny smile to himself.

But he was still bored. And salty about being put on bedrest. He was sitting on the old beanbag, already having tossed one of the miniature datapads haphazardly to the floor. Soundwave had a few extras in storage, and Danny had no idea why the Cons had miniature datapads, but he wasn’t complaining. He rolled his head back and stared at the ceiling.

He needed to stretch his legs. He glanced up to ensure Starscream was still hard at work—and he was. Danny stood up slowly, taking care not to tear his stitches, and walked to the edge. His steps were silent as he kept his eyes on Starscream and jumped off the shelf, floating safely to the ground.

Once on the ground, Danny headed for the door. He felt the pull at his stitches with every step, making him wince, but freedom was worth the pain. He only had about twenty more steps to go until—

Suddenly, Starscream’s large, heeled pede slammed down in front of him. Danny stumbled back and looked up, meeting Starscream’s scowl. Danny returned the expression, crossing his arms. “I was just stretching my legs,” he tried.

Starscream stooped down and snatched Danny up without a second thought. “I believe 'stretching' and 'walking' were both on Knockout’s ‘not for the human’ list,” the Con said briskly, striding back to his desk. Instead of placing Danny back on his shelf, Starscream set him next to the datapads on the desk and sat down to continue his work.

Danny frowned. “Right, and now I have nowhere comfortable to rest,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

Starscream barely looked up. “You should have thought of that before trying to escape,” he said, swiping on his datapad. Danny rolled his eyes and sat down on the cold, hard desk.

He noticed Starscream glancing at him a few times, each look more annoyed than the last. Danny wasn’t even doing anything! Abruptly, the Seeker stood up and walked to the other side of the room, where Danny’s shelf was.

Danny stood up to see better and walked to the edge of the desk. Starscream turned on his heel and brought back Danny’s beanbag, blanket, and one of the datapads.

Starscream glanced down at Danny near the edge and used his servo to push him back to the middle of the desk, likely assuming Danny was trying to escape again. The Con promptly dropped the items next to Danny and sat down to resume his work.

Danny bundled the items together to create a comfortable sitting spot and smiled up at the Con, who kept periodically glancing over as if to make sure Danny was still there. “Thanks,” Danny said.

Starscream ignored him, but Danny could see his wings twitch in acknowledgment.

It was the next day, and it was time for another escape attempt. Danny was sitting on the counter with Breakdown and Knockout in the room. He had been told to “stay put,” but there was no way he was going to listen. His wounds had healed more, and the pain was bearable. He was perfectly fine to start walking around now.

He glanced up as Breakdown and Knockout were thoroughly distracted by each other — Knockout fussing over a new ding or scratch in his paint and Breakdown trying to calm him down and help buff it out — an exhausting experience, from the looks of it.

Even though it was entertaining to watch the two scramble like that, Danny had some escaping to do, and this distraction was perfect. He quickly jumped off the counter, landed softly on the ground, and headed for the door. Instead of almost getting stepped on this time, he made it, and the door opened easily for him.

Luckily, the hiss of the door hydraulics was quiet enough not to alert the two mechs. Danny made it down two hallways before a large tentacle wrapped around his torso and lifted him into the air. Danny let out a surprised yelp as he looked around to see who or what had grabbed him, only to meet Soundwave’s visor.

“Oh, hey,” Danny laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What are you doing out here, Soundwave? I thought you’d be in the control room.”

Soundwave tilted his helm, and the security footage of the medbay flickered onto his screen, showing Danny’s escape. Danny sighed and slumped. Soundwave raised both servos, placed Danny into them, and retracted his tentacle.

Danny sat down in the servos with his legs to the side. Soundwave spoke up. “Statement: Danny is injured. Statement: Knockout has placed Danny on bedrest until further notice. Observation: Danny is not abiding by the rules.” If Danny could see the Con’s optics, he was sure he’d be getting a disapproving glare.

“I’m fine!” Danny threw his hands up in exasperation. “Really, you guys are worrying over nothing.”

“Incorrect.” Danny stared up at the Con. “Soundwave and Decepticons: concerned for your wellbeing. Danny: almost died without intervention.” Danny felt a pang of guilt. He really had almost died. The Cons were just trying to help, in their own way.

Danny sighed. “Fine. I’ll rest,” he relented. Soundwave flashed a smiley emoticon on his visor and started walking back toward the control room. Danny looked up at him, confused. “Am I not going back to the medbay?”

Soundwave glanced down. “Negative. Breakdown and Knockout: proved insufficient at guarding you. Soundwave and Laserbeak: much better.”

Danny laughed and leaned back in Soundwave’s servos.

Needless to say, the next time Danny was put under Knockout and Breakdown’s care, he found himself placed in a large glass observation tank to minimize any escape risks. It was something that would easily contain an average human—not Danny, of course, But Knockout didn't know that. And at least it was comfortable.

Knockout had looked so proud of himself when he set Danny in there, too. If Danny hadn’t been so tired, he would have tried to escape the moment the Con turned around, just to prove a point. But for now, he leaned back on the blankets that had been placed inside the tank with him. This wasn’t so bad.

Danny managed to escape from Knockout two more times, and now Soundwave had transferred Danny’s care to some of the Vehicons whenever Soundwave and Starscream weren’t available to watch him. Danny didn’t mind; he loved the Vehicons.

Danny glanced up at Roddie, who had him clutched in his servos as he and C-27 patrolled the ship’s hallways. C-27 was always a stickler for the rules, while Roddie tended to be a troublemaker. The two were often put on shifts together to make sure that they kept each other balanced. Or, at least, so C-27 could keep Roddie in line.

Roddie was always excited to see Danny, jumping at every opportunity to pick up the "human" and ask him questions. C-27 always seemed snippety around Danny and would tell Roddie off for harassing him. C-27 cared about Danny and Roddie in his own way; he didn't want either of them hurt, but he masked this behind his professionalism and strict rule-following.

As they walked, Danny shifted in Roddie’s hold a little too quickly, sending a sharp pain shooting through his side. He hissed and grabbed at the injury reflexively. Both Vehicons stopped immediately, alarm sparking in their fields.

“Are you okay?” Roddie’s tone, usually light and playful, was now serious and tinged with worry. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just moved too quickly,” Danny waved them off.

C-27 levelled his visor at Danny. “If you are experiencing any excess pain, we are instructed to take you to Knockout for an examination,” the Con informed him.

Danny sighed. “Really, guys, I’m fine, see?” Danny smiled brightly and stood up on Roddie’s servos, who promptly used his other servo to cup around him to make sure he didn’t fall. He was met with more flat looks and concerned fields. “Okay, if it happens again, you can take me to the medbay, okay?”

The two Cons glanced at each other and decided that was a good enough compromise. “Fine.” C-27 reluctantly agreed.

“But if you feel any more pain… just tell us, okay?” Roddie said.

Danny smiled up at them. “Promise.”

They continued their patrol, light commentary passing between them—mainly between Danny and Roddie—as C-27 tried to remain professional. But Danny could tell he enjoyed the conversation, not to mention the company.

Needless to say, after all of that, Danny never ended up able to escape. Now, his injuries were finally healed enough to be taken off bed rest, no longer a need for constant supervision. He was still told to keep an eye on his injuries, but he was free to do what he wanted. But now that Danny had the choice, he still wanted to hang with the Cons all day anyway.

---

Find more here: Tumblr Master List

#danny phantom #Transformers #Haunting the Nemesis #starscream #crossover #transformers prime #Knockout #Breakdown #Soundwave #ao3 #original Vehicon characters #Roddie and C-27 my beloved #Danny doesn't want to be on bedrest #or be babysat #Danny could easily beat all their afts but he chooses not too #danny phantom x transformers

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azuryuu · 1 year ago

Text

yuu h. in my ramshackle dorm leader uniform fan-design (+ without cloak)

as usual, click on the image for a higher quality

i decided to try my hand at designing a uniform for the ramshackle dorm ! personally very happy with how it turned out:)

non-dorm leader variant of the ramshackle uniform feat. kat (@kit-ken / @clovers-n-roses's yuu):

also- if you'd like to, feel free to draw your yuu in this ramshackle uniform:) i'd be very flattered if you do:) just credit me for the original design also pls tag me i'd like to see uwaaaa

character design notes are under the cut as well for those interested:)

date: 17/08/23

like my work? consider ordering a commission // buying me a coffee // checking out my art tag or my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

general notes

same top hat and cloak as the ghosts - the cloak has ripped and frayed hem for that "ramshackle" look

dark makeup around eyes and on lips to have that sunken eyes ghost look: black eyeshadow and optional blue highlights around eyes + black/dark blue lipstick

white dress shirt + pants + shoes to emulate the white bedsheet ghosts of ramshackle

ruffles at the hem and back of the dress shirt are long and flowy to emulate the ghost tail so the students have a similar silhouette to the ghosts

shared design between dorm leader and dorm member

dark blue top hat

dress shirt all have the same collar and ruffles by the throat

black sleeve garter on both arms

buttons have ruffles only to the right (my right, their left)

dress shirt opens midway into an upside down V-shape

white dress pants with blue waistbands + the inside of the pockets are dark blue with lighter blue stripes + pocket stitching in dark blue x-shape

shoes are all primarily white with black and gold accents + golden buttons on the outside-side

unique to dorm leader

sleeves are actually shorter but with more elaborate ruffles: no cuff + ends at around midway on the forearm and flares into frills - two layers of ruffles

dress shirt hem flows into ruffles which covers the pants pockets and extends all the way to the back -> the frilled hems also have 2 layers -> the 2nd layer of ruffles (under) split into 2 "ghost tails"

pant legs are tucked inside the boots

boots that extend mid-lower leg, layered with white pleats with golden accents + 6 buttons on the outside + black body + golden sole + black strap with golden accent that goes under the shoe

customisation ideas for dorm members

same top hat + ruffles around the throat + collar as dorm leader

possible customisation for the cloak -> for kat, same cloak as yuu h. -> potential cloak idea: cape that splits halfway in the middle in an upside down V-shape for extra flowiness

dress shirt has frills but not as ornate as dorm leader

sleeves have frills but not as distinctive -> for kat, long cuff with 4 buttons, and ends with short pleats. -> potential sleeve idea would be like epel's school uniform

dress shirt hem opens like dorm leader but no ruffles in the front so pants pocket details are visible

dress shirt has long flowy ruffles for the "ghost tail" at the back only -> only 1 "tail" -> only 1 layer -> shape of actual ruffles is highly customisable, can be anything as long as it's long enough -> for kat, the "tail" slopes to one side, short on the left (my left, their right) and becomes long on the right -> potential "tail" idea: can be uniform/symmetrical

pant legs can be tucked into the shoe or not, depending on the shoe itself n personal choice -> for kat, pants are not tucked in -> pants hem can be flared into additional ruffles if so desired

choices for shoes is open to most styles as long as the colours and layered appearance remains more or less the same -> for kat, ankle boots with the same colour and pleating as yuu -> potential shoes idea: can be dress shoes, taller boots, school shoes, etc...

#falsely draws #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst yuu #twst oc #twst mc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland mc #-; yuu stranger lore #-; my art

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itsrheasgirl · 1 year ago

Text

WILL YOU LOVE ME TOMORROW?

Chapter 1

RHEA RIPLEY X FEM!READER

WORD COUNT: 2235

SUMMARY: THE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP ISN’T ALL RHEA LOSES WHEN SHE’S FORCED TO TURN ON HER TAG TEAM PARTNER AND LONG TERM GIRLFRIEND IN ORDER TO GET A PUSH IN HER CAREER, BUT ONLY TIME WILL TELL IF ALL IS LOST.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: N/A FOR THIS PART.

- - - - - - -

The WWE and how its writers worked had never seemed to faze Rhea. She’d become so used to them throwing curveballs in her career that when Triple H pulled the two of you into his office after an average Monday Night Raw, she knew something was coming. It had been two weeks since the announcement had been made public that she would fight alongside you for a shot at the women’s tag team championship and you couldn’t be more excited if you tried, but Rhea, she knew it all seemed too easy. She hadn’t faced a title match recently without some sort of trouble to follow. They were pushing her career and she knew that, but she wished they would cut her some slack.

“So… we’ve got the breakdown for next weeks match and I just wanted to run it past you both in person.”

Immediately Rhea knew something was off. When it came down to the game plan, it always came via email, the full break down from beginning to end. Interviews and all.

Placing her palm down onto your thigh and giving it a comforting squeeze, she turned her sapphire gaze in your direction as a quizzical expression captured her features. You could feel the tremor that vibrated her palm as it lay against your exposed skin, your own fingers winding with hers to keep her hand steady.

It had only been a few months since you and Rhea had made your relationship public— even though you’d been in an off screen relationship for almost a year, but it had been welcomed with open arms by your fellow co-workers and the general public weren’t exactly mad about it either.

Inhaling a shallow breath, Rhea pulled her focus from you and turned back to face Triple H head on as he leant back in his chair, chewing nervously at her lower lip.

“Rhea you have to remember I don’t make the rules, this wasn’t my plan for you and I don’t want to hurt you— Either of you.”

Rhea’s palms began to sweat as the words sunk into her already panicked thoughts, mixing with the confusion that was washing over her about the whole situation. Triple H’s deep hues flicking away from his lock on her and over to you as he spoke. Your grasp around Rhea’s hand tightened slightly as you contemplated what had been said. He didn’t want to hurt you. What did that even mean?

“I tried my best to change this, I need you both to understand that but it was already approved, I was too late.”

Rhea’s heart began to pound in her chest, her panic only getting worse with each word that left Triple H’s lips. What could they possibly have planned that would shake up such a strong man to the point he had to apologize?

“Just spit it out, Paul!”

Rhea snapped, as she released your hand and slammed both her palms down hard against the desk before her. The loud bang echoing in your ears and causing a small gasp to bubble in your throat, you grasped gently at her shoulder and graze your thumb slowly along her soft skin.

“It can’t be that bad, baby.”

Your gaze was locked on Rhea as you continued to trace small circles against her shoulder blades, but hers was fixated on Triple H. He still hadn’t told you the breakdown and it was starting to itch at her brain, like a tic burrowing into her conscious.

“Then why are we here? Why wasn’t this sent out just like every other week? If it’s not that bad then why is he acting like this?”

Rhea’s jaw was clenched, the veins in her temples flaring and her fingertips turning white as she gripped at the edge of the desk. Each passing seconds causing more and more tension between the two individuals as you tried your best to keep Rhea calm.

Triple H inhaled a staggered breath as he joined his palms and placed them down against his desk, glancing at you swiftly before shifting his gaze down to his hand.

“You lose.”

Rhea’s features don’t even shift as she scoffs to his response, her eyes rolling in annoyance as she fights back a sarcastic laugh. Triple H wouldn’t have called the two of you into his office for a simple loss, you’d both experienced loses in your career and not once had they made such a big deal out of it.

“And that helps my push how, Paul? Because if I remember correctly the last time you had me were in here you were telling me I was a superstar and about to get the headlines I deserved.”

She couldn’t take much more of this, it was all too cryptic and if she didn’t get answers from Triple H soon then she’d go get them from someone she knew wouldn’t make her wait.

“They’re breaking you up Re, they want you to turn on Y/N after the match. That’s it, okay. Team’s over. I tried to fight for you, both of you. I told them this wasn’t fair but the decision is made and the betrayal is already in motion.”

Rhea’s heart sank in her chest as she bolted upright to a standing position, her chair flying backwards and almost toppling over as she once more slammed the flat of her palms down against Triple H’s desk.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

You could see the sudden shock claim Triple H’s features as he witnesses Rhea’s outrage, his lips parting slightly in search of what to say next. Not like he really had the time to respond as Rhea shoved at his desk to drive it back towards him, her nostrils flaring as she once more raised her voice.

“She’s my fucking girlfriend Paul, what sick son of a bitch would write this. What kind of a story arch is it to destroy an actual fucking couple?”

You couldn’t believe the rage that was starting to burn behind Rhea’s eyes, her sparkling sapphire blues casted in a shade of black as she began to pace back and forth across the room, your gaze flitting between her and Triple H as he simply watched her without a word.

“You know what, no.”

Rhea stopped in her tracks and snapped her piercing gaze down to Triple H as he went to speak, her tone filled with so much upset and heartbreak.

“Change it, or I don’t fight!”

Rhea didn’t even give him time to reply before her swift strides had her moving in the direction of the door, swinging it open to have the block of wood collide with the wall behind it as she disappeared into the hallway.

It took a few moments for words to be exchanged once more, Triple H’s expression cloaked with disappointment as he turned his attention towards you. He could tell you were hurting too— even though you were hiding it well, exhaling a shallow breath before he addressed you head on.

“I’m sorry.”

Was all he was able to spit out as his broad palms rubbed over his face, words trapped in his throat as he process the best way to continue going.

You hadn’t taken your eyes off the door in which Rhea had left so abruptly, secretly hoping she’d come back and talk this out. You knew all about the push WWE had planned for her— you’d talked about it in length over a bottle of wine the night she’d found out, but you didn’t expect they would be separating you so soon. You were thrilled that Rhea was finally getting the shot she’d worked so hard for, but in turn it left you in the dust. Thrown aside like a used Kleenex.

Finally giving up on the idea of Rhea’s return, you shift your focus back to your management as he still sat face in palms at his desk. Maybe you’d have to be the one to talk with Rhea and bring her round to the idea, you wanted her to thrive— to be the superstar you knew she truly was and if that meant losing her, then so be it.

“What’s the rest of the plan, Paul?”

You questioned. Your tone was calm and almost consoling as your fingers wrapped around Triple H’s palm and pulled it down from his face, holding onto his callus fingers as you searched his gaze for a moment.

“I’ll talk to her. I can fix this, just tell me what she needs to know and I’ll make her listen.”

Maybe the words coming from you wouldn’t sting as hard and things would be able to play out the way the WWE intended, Rhea always listened to you when it came down to the importance of her career and if losing her meant she would become the strongest contender in the women’s roster, then that’s what would have to happen.

Triple H had yet to speak and you were beginning to worry, maybe this betrayal was worse than you thought. Giving his palm one more gentle squeeze, you release your hold and placed your palms flat against his.

“I can take it, Paul. Just tell me what she needs to know. Please.”

With a long exhale, Triple H finally lifted his gaze to meet your questioning ones. His lips curving into a warm smile as he leant back in his chair and placed his palms on the back of his neck.

“Edge wants her. The game plan is that she’s eventually going to be the newest addition to The Judgement Day.”

Your heart tightened in your chest, your palm slowly sliding off the table to fall into your lap and you swallowed back the saliva that had pooled on your tongue. The Judgement Day, that’s what they had planned for Rhea? They were taking her away from you to put her with Edge?

Sure you had problems with Edge and Beth, both of them causing past issues for your career and leaving you almost ready to call it quits all together, but that’s where you are Rhea differed. She was strong. She could take a beating and keep going, nothing slowing her down. She didn’t need you to protect her, she could handle herself and this situation would be no different.

Chewing at the inside of your cheek and fighting back the desire to blow up in Triple H’s face, you force your lips into a faux smile. You didn’t want to be the reason Rhea’s career took a hit, even if the idea of Edge getting his hands on your girl tore at your heart. The Judgement Day could take Rhea places you couldn’t and as much as it hurt you, her career would always come first.

“When?”

Was all you could ask in a calm tone, worried that if you said much more your anger would become evident and you didn’t want Triple H to feel worse about the news he was giving you.

“Three weeks.”

Your mind went blank, you couldn’t breathe, the world around you felt like it was beginning to spin and all you could focus on was Rhea’s happiness. You had to— because if even for a second you let that focus slip, you’d lose her completely. You had to let your issues with Edge be just that, your issues and you had to support your girlfriend if you planned to keep her.

You wanted to say more. Triple H didn’t deserve to be belittled anymore than Rhea’s reaction already had done, but you couldn’t think of what was best. You could thank him for trying to stop the break up of your tag team, for supporting Rhea and helping her get the attention and success she deserved or you could just get up and leave. You’d already told Triple H you would let Rhea know the plan and now you knew it, there was no need for you to be there anymore.

Swallowing back more saliva that collected on your tongue, you rose from your seat and moved round to stand at Triple H’s side, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

The room fell silent for a few more moments as you both delved into a deep contemplation, neither of you opening your mouth to speak first. There was a lot more to this situation that you wanted answers about, but you needed to get back to Rhea. You hoped she’d gone back to the hotel, but there was no knowing where she was until you went looking.

Placing your palm down onto Triple H’s shoulder, you gave it a gentle squeeze. He always looked out for Rhea and when the two of you had gone public about your relationship, he had been the most supportive out of the entire faction. He’d done all he could do and you were thankful for that, but now it was your job to convince Rhea she had to do this. For her future.

Crossing the room with swift strides, you turned back to face Triple H with a warm smile. He’d been put through a ringer of emotions and you didn’t want him thinking he’d caused damage that couldn’t be fixed. Exhaling a shallow sigh, you pulled your palm through long curls before knotting it up on the top of your head.

“Thanks for trying to save us, Paul.”

- - - - - - - - -

TAGLIST: @girlofpink @rebecca-quin @bl0w-m3 @coolbeans-17 @noellia @rooskaya-yelena

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 2

A/N: Please defer to warning section in Chapter 1

-Chapter 3-

The night was precisely as dissatisfying as you had expected—solidifying your decision to finally make that jump. Go out into the world and try something different. You knew you still smelled of sex, despite having already washed twice, but you��d have to wait until you got home to have a proper scrub at your skin.

“What a surprise to see you here.”

Your eyes slide shut as you press your lips together, attempting to keep your smile at bay, but failing. You pivot on your feet, turning to see the High Lord stood a little way from you on the street. “Quite a coincidence, indeed. Especially considering you knew precisely when my shift would be ending.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re attempting to suggest there,” he says, gliding forward, allowing the early morning sun to catch in his blue-black locks. His arm links with yours, smoothly sliding you against him. “Walk with me?”

Your nose crinkles a little as you wince. “I’m afraid you might have to deal with some unpleasant smells, Rhys.” Sure enough, his nostrils flare.

To his credit, he doesn’t gag. “I’ve smelled far worse, believe me.”

You snort, “good to know it’s not as awful as one of those killing fields.”

A laugh drags from his throat, “you clearly haven’t been around an Illyrian male after training.”

You give him an exaggerated gasp, “scandalous, Rhysand! Talking with a lady about muscled, sweaty males so early in the morning? Atrocious manners.”

Between your work and your house, Rhys engages you in pleasant conversation, ranging from the card game he sorely lost to Cass and Az at, to future planning regarding reparations for the city. A slight innuendo here and there for good measure, to keep your spirits up.

It’s only when a silence stretches between you that you realise he’s been steadily working you up to something, plying you with polite conversation in order to get you warmed up. Cunning High Lord.

“You seem rather fatigued, this morning,” he drawls, glancing at you sidelong. You give him a tight smile, “well, I had plenty of time to do my thinking.” He raises a brow in question. “Honestly, I hadn’t even realised one of them had finished until he was pulling out and dripping down my thighs. So, yes. Plenty of time to think.”

He seems to go a little rigid at your side, and you send him an apologetic look, “sorry. T.M.I.”

He shakes his head, “I’m simply appalled someone is capable of being that bad.” He gives you a boyish smile, “would you like me to take action on your behalf and banish the male from Velaris?” You choke on a laugh, “seems a little unfair to only crack down on him. Punish one, you have to punish them all.”

When he opens his mouth again, you beat him to it. “No, that is not a plausible solution. You would end up banishing a good portion of your city, Rhys.” He stiffens, but shakes his head, managing a smile, “appalling indeed.”

You’re finally in sight of your home, just a little longer and you can sink into a warm bath, grab a meal, and fall asleep. Maybe relieve the tension between your thighs before you go… The Shadowsinger had really worked you well. It’d been a while since you’d been so…ready.

“What are you thinking about?” The words drag from his throat, husky and deep. You realise your arousal is showing even through the layers of sex you’re still mostly cloaked in. You shoot him a look, lips curving up into your own little grin that has his blood boiling, “your brothers.”

You had expected him to laugh, or scoff, but instead he’s staring at you. “Both of them?” It’s your turn to be taken aback, eyes widening marginally. “It was a joke, Rhys,” you say incredulously, reaching for the handle as you step inside. “You coming in? Or do you have some High Lord things to do.”

“Are you one of those High Lord things?” He purrs, remembering himself. He can’t loose his head so easily, or he’ll slip up. You click your tongue in fake disgust, but leave the door open for him to follow inside.

It’s not until you’ve made it up the stairs and into your room you realise just how desperately in need of a bath you are. Your muscles are aching from being stretched this way and that, throat slightly sore but already on the mend. You dare a sniff at your shirt. “Holy Mother— I am. So sorry about that.”

He shrugs casually, “it’s no bother.”

Your stomach decides to rumble, and you’re reminded of how little you’ve eaten in the past night. Rhys’ lips quirk upward, “want me to play housewife?” You roll your eyes, but smile, heading for the washroom, only to find Rhys has already filled the tub with steaming water.

You pivot to him, glaring, “leave some things for me to do.”

He takes a damn long time as he runs his gaze down your body, then back up again. “You’re free to remove your clothes at any time.” You hiss at him, but he can see the mirth in your eyes—fully relaxed again after such a long night. Maybe he should pay those males a visit…

“And you’re free to entertain yourself while I clean myself off, as long as you keep your grubby hands off my lingerie.” You smile, sauntering into the washroom, the door snapping shut behind you, snicking closed.

You sigh, already hastily shucking off your clothes, allowing them to pool on the floorboards as you dip your fingers into the water, quietly moaning at the perfection. Your foot goes in first, then the other, until the water is hugging your calves. Then you’re lowering to a kneel, the water lapping between your thighs until it raises to your hips. And finally you settle back, the heat licking over your chest as you rest against the tub. You might weep from the soothing warmth.

You could honestly hug Rhys for the bath. It’s just what you need. You hope he knows just how much you care for him—for all of them. They’ve gone out of their way to make sure you’re happy; comfortable. You truly couldn’t wish for more. They’re perfect, in every way.

You don’t know how long it is before you feel the itch that needs to be scratched, heat thrumming between your legs, and you give in to that sweet tug of oblivion. You need to loose yourself, if only for a while. You waste no time with edging, or stimulating yourself, just straight between your thighs as you begin running through a mental list of fantasises.

Imagining you’re alone, and it’s the dead of night. A stranger hauling you away down an alley, shoving you against a wall, or down onto your knees, or just ripping off your clothes where you stand. He could make you touch yourself in front of him, work yourself to a climax while he watches steadily. Or he could wrap your legs around his hips and force you to take him like that, letting gravity do the work as he helps slam you down, hips bucking sharply—

It’s not enough. You need more. More more more more more more more more more moremoremoremoremoremore

You imagine Azriel holding your leash—

Wild arousal bursts through your skin with such force you pause, fingers halting. Breathing irregular as you softly pant. Tentatively, you reel back into the thought. Azriel chaining you up…or Rhys pinning you to his bed…or Cassian shoving you to your knees. Fire burns in the pit of your belly, arousal kicking your feet out from under you.

Maybe a few centuries ago, you would have shied from those thoughts, been ashamed to think of them in that way… But you’re older now, much more familiar with the depths of your mind.

So you indulge, and the images flow to you easily, practically swarming you in a frenzied dance as arousal rides your senses.

Cassian forcing you to bend over one of the tables in the House of Wind, shoving up your skirts as his hand fists in your hair, pushing you down so he can ease into you while you’re begging him to stop, squirming helplessly beneath his warrior’s hands.

Azriel overstimulating you with those shadows of his, allowing them to figure out what buttons to push while he watches you squirm on his floor, utterly naked. Occasionally touching himself to take the edge off, but never enough to tip him over it. He’d stare you down the entire time, the faintest trace of amusement in those hazel eyes of his.

Rhys making you climax over and over on his tongue, on his fingers, and just when you think he’ll let you go, he’d spread you out over his lap, slamming you down as his cock touches that sensitive spot inside of you, grinding his hips against you as he abuses it over and over until you’re shaking, sobbing, squirting. All the while holding you with that demanding touch of his. The touch of a High Lord.

Your back arches in the tub as your pleasure crushes into you, muscles spasming as you imagine what it would be like to have all three of them on you at once, as Cassian had suggested a mere day ago.

It takes a while before you’re able to move, so stunned from the intensity of your high that you’re unsure your legs will be able to hold you.

The only thing that breaks you from your haze is the sound of Rhysand cursing viciously from your bedroom, forcing you to reawaken from your lust induced stupor. “Rhys?” You call out. “Everything okay?” You reach for the edge of the tub, moving to get out to check on him.

When he replies, he sounds strained, as if forcing the lightness into his tone. “Your clothes are…pungent.” A laugh bursts from you as you relax back into the bath, “serves you right for rifling through them, Rhysand.” He sighs, the sound long-suffering.

“Here I was, preparing you a meal, tidying up your mess—like a good housewife. All you do is complain.” You laugh again, finally deciding to end your relaxation, reaching for your towel as you begin drying yourself. “My sincerest apologies, High Lord—or should I call you High Laundry Maid?”

When you return to your bedroom however, you’re smacked by the intense smell of sex, and you stumble, muttering to yourself. Rhys just gives you an I told you so smile, making you scowl. “Illyrian baby. It’s not even that bad once you get used to it.” He just quirks a brow.

A small smirk tips the edges of your mouth as you stare at him, “I think it’s actually quite nice.” He seems to stiffen a little at that comment, and you laugh, going for your closet to chuck some night clothes on over your now cleansed and dried skin.

“Gosh, I am so ready to sleep for a week,” you declare as you stretch your arms above your head, feeling how soft your muscles are after the bath. His eyes flick to yours, “you won’t be going back?” You shake your head in reply as you smoothly slip into a night robe, undoing your towel as the fabric covers you.

“Not after last night. I think that was the final straw,” you yawn, peeling back the covers as you slip beneath the sheets, tucking yourself in. Rhys’ brow narrows, “what happened.”

You smile sleepily at his protective tone, “hardly anything. That’s the problem. Same old, same old.” You sigh as you peer at him from your bed, “I need a change of pace. Something to set my blood boiling.” Your eyes flutter closed, and the curtains draw shut—thanks to the High Lord.

“Maybe I’ll slip between your legs while you sleep,” he drawls, watching as you slowly begin to nod off, “you look like you could use a little excitement.”

You make a low sound of desire in your throat that has a shiver running down his spine, cock stiffening between his legs. “Don’t tease me, Rhys.”

#dark!poly!batboys smut #Pleasure over Morals #[***]#dark!fic

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