#Engagement e-invite
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shaadiwish · 1 year ago
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Know All About The Wide Range Of E-Cards & Invites That Victory Invitations Has In Store For You. Stay Tuned To ShaadiWish For Latest Trends And Ideas.
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fleurvi · 2 months ago
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Big Chested S/O | Arcane Women
request for arcane women with big titty gfs
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genre: smut (minors dni)
characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi
cw: fem!reader, big chested!reader, titty play, titty sucking, marking (vi), titty slapping (grayson), strap on sex (grayson, sevika)
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Ambessa Medarda
Ambessa cannot keep her hands to herself. She had invited you to soak in the bath with her and cleared the attendants and guards from the room when you first entered, leaving the two of you alone. You're sitting between her legs with your head against her chest.
Within minutes, her hands reach around to your chest. She squeezes roughly; she treasures you, but you're a grown woman and can take some rough handling.
“Touch yourself for me”, she all but orders, and you listen, hand slipping beneath the warm water to play with your slit while she gropes your tits and rolls your nipples between her fingers. “Does that feel good?”
✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Caitlyn Kiramman
DIABOLICAL ORAL FIXATION.
Cait finally comes to bed and finds you lying awake with a book. “You didn't have to wait for me,” she says, crawling over to your lap instead of her own side of the bed.
“I'll always wait for you, you know that”, you sigh in response. She pulls you into a kiss to show appreciation before trailing her lips down your neck and collarbone. When she gets to your chest, She lifts her head to look you in the eyes before leaning down again to take one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking on it. She presses a finger to your hole as she pulls away from your chest.
“Can I touch you while I suck on these gorgeous tits?” she asks, smile splitting into a grin as she lowers her head back down.
✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Grayson
She likes to watch them bounce as you ride her strap.
“Yeah, just like that”, she grunts as you bounce on the toy. She calls it training. She knows it's not right to engage with a subordinate in this way, but when you make such a pretty picture to look at, who is she to deny herself? She's not making eye contact with you though, focused on your chest in her face. When you slow down a little, thighs burning with the ache of riding, she brings a hand up to harshly slap them. “Why are you slowing down? I'm not finished with your training,” she says, hands gripping your hips to assist you in gaining back your pace. “If you keep up just like that, I'll give you a reward.”
✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Mel Medarda
Mel asks you to model topless for her so she can paint you. You have to get her back on course multiple times because she keeps getting distracted by your tits.
“I thought you were a woman of composure”, you tease as she gets caught staring again. She rolls her eyes in response.
“I've been finished for five minutes; I just wanted extra time to stare at them,” Mel says matter of factly. You get up from where you've been posing, engulfing her in a back hug as you examine her artwork. It's impressive. She paints you in such a sensual light. Your hands drop from her hips to her thighs. “While I was painting your chest, I was thinking about having them as my next canvas.”
“Yeah? If you show me how much you like them, I'll think about it,” you say as she turns in your arms, ready to walk you over to her bed and worship your chest with her mouth.
✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Sevika
Sevika likes to feel them rub against yours as she fucks you nice and deep. She thrusts her hips, grinding her cock inside you. You'd been begging for her to get the strap and fuck you, and now that she's inside, you're a drooling mess. She's completely covering you, pressing her muscular body on top of yours. The way your sensitive nipples rub against her chest as she rocks against you makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. Skin-on-skin contact is Sevika's weakness.
Sevika has a very short list of things that get her going, and your tits are top of that list.
✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Vi
After a rough fight, Vi will find an empty room, back you up against the wall and let out all her pent-up energy on your tits. She loves to leave marks, decorating your chest with hickies and bite marks. She's enthusiastic, letting her actions tell you how she feels. She's desperate with how her tongue drags along your skin, and her teeth sink in. Her mouth is too occupied to speak, but you can hear the curses she grits out between biting and sucking on your precious skin. She's also a proud woman, and knowing you have her marks on you fuels her to do more. Your boobs are the perfect destresser for her.
“Fuck, look at you”, she growls, admiring her dirty work. “Always so fucking pretty.”
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Thank you so much for requesting, I'm so abnormal about the arcane ladies, I need to write more for them. I hope you enjoyed!!
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Engagement Ceremony GIF Digital Invitation. E-invites. Contact : [email protected] @celestialgreets
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obsidian-pages777 · 7 months ago
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Pick a Card: What does your Future lover love about you?[+more deets] Old Hollywood Theme
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Pick one of the above three. Left to Right 1->3
Introduction
This is a reading as to how you would appear to a Future Lover.This will take you into a timeline in which you are a person as described in the below piles. Your lovable characteristics and the characteristics as well as the personality traits of the one you will love are included here as well.
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Pile 1
What They Love About You: Your future lover is absolutely head over heels for your creativity and unique perspective on life. They love how you see the world through an artistic lens, making even the mundane magical. Your ability to turn any situation into an adventure is something they can't get enough of. You bring color and excitement into their life, and they adore how you're always up for trying something new.
They secretly love it when you playfully tease them or challenge their opinions. Your quick wit and cheeky comebacks keep them on their toes and add a spark to your interactions. They enjoy the playful banter and how you can turn a simple disagreement into a flirty exchange.
You in this relationship:
Physical Characteristics: You have a vibrant and expressive style. Whether it’s your hair, your fashion, or the way you carry yourself, there’s always something unique and artistic about your appearance. Think bold colors, interesting accessories, and a confident posture.
Personality Traits: You’re adventurous, creative, and always up for trying something new. You bring an air of spontaneity and fun into every situation. People love being around you because you make even the most boring activities feel exciting and fresh. Your playful teasing and sharp wit keep conversations lively and engaging.
Future Lover:
Physical Characteristics: They might have a relaxed, yet stylish look. They prefer comfort but with a hint of creativity, maybe through a unique piece of jewelry or a quirky hairstyle. Their look is effortlessly cool, with an aura that draws people in.
Personality Traits: They’re laid-back and go with the flow, but they have a deep appreciation for art and creativity. They’re supportive of your adventurous spirit and often find themselves inspired by your ideas. They enjoy the playful banter and have a great sense of humor that complements yours. They’re the type who loves to explore new places and experiences with you, always ready for the next adventure.
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Pile 2
What They Love About You: Your future lover is totally in awe of your nurturing and compassionate nature. They love how you always make people feel seen and heard. Your empathy and ability to understand their feelings deeply make them feel incredibly connected to you. You're the person they can always count on for a comforting hug or a listening ear.
They find it endearing when you act a little spoiled and demand their attention. Whether it’s pouting when they’re not paying enough attention or playfully insisting on getting your way, they secretly love catering to your whims. It makes them feel needed and appreciated, and they enjoy spoiling you a bit.
You in this relationship:
Physical Characteristics: Your style is warm and inviting, with a focus on comfort and practicality. You prefer earthy tones and soft fabrics, creating a look that’s both approachable and stylish. Your smile and gentle demeanor make people feel at ease around you.
Personality Traits: You’re nurturing, empathetic, and deeply compassionate. You have a natural ability to make people feel cared for and understood. Your calming presence and willingness to listen make you a cherished friend and partner. You enjoy being spoiled a bit and aren’t afraid to show when you want some extra attention, but always in a sweet, endearing way.
Future Lover:
Physical Characteristics: They have a sturdy and reliable look, with a preference for classic and timeless fashion. Their style might be understated but always well-put-together. They exude a sense of stability and trustworthiness.
Personality Traits: They’re dependable, caring, and protective. They love to take care of you and make sure you’re happy and comfortable. They’re attentive to your needs and enjoy the role of being your rock. Your lover appreciates your nurturing side and finds joy in pampering you and making you feel special. They’re the type who loves quiet, intimate moments and deep, meaningful conversations.
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Pile 3
What They Love About You: Your future lover is captivated by your intelligence and sense of humor. They love how you can have deep, meaningful conversations one moment and be cracking jokes the next. Your ability to balance intellect with lightheartedness keeps them intrigued and always wanting more. They admire your curiosity and how you’re always learning something new.
They get a kick out of your playful stubbornness. When you dig your heels in over something silly or pretend to be grumpy just to get a reaction, they find it adorable. They enjoy the challenge of coaxing you out of your playful moods and love how it adds a fun dynamic to your relationship.
You in this relationship:
Physical Characteristics: Your look is a mix of smart and casual. You might be found in chic, tailored clothes that show off your intellect while still being comfortable. You pay attention to the details, like glasses that complement your face or a signature piece of jewelry.
Personality Traits: You’re intelligent, curious, and have a fantastic sense of humor. You can switch between deep, thought-provoking discussions and light-hearted, witty banter with ease. Your playful stubbornness adds a fun challenge to your interactions, making you even more irresistible.
Future Lover:
Physical Characteristics: They might have an academic or intellectual style, with a touch of casual comfort. Think smart casual outfits, perhaps with a book always nearby or an accessory that shows their interests. Their appearance is neat, but there’s always something that hints at their curious nature.
Personality Traits: They’re intellectually stimulating, with a sharp mind and a great sense of humor. They love engaging in deep conversations and are always up for a good debate. They find your playful stubbornness endearing and enjoy the dynamic it brings to your relationship. They’re constantly learning and growing, and they love sharing that journey with you. They’re supportive and appreciate your balance of intellect and humor, making your bond both deep and fun.
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suguann · 8 months ago
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SAY YOU'RE MINE—GOJO SATORU.
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✎.You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. | wc. 1.4k+
tags. fem!reader, age-gap, very shy reader, exhibitionism, reader wears glasses, a/b/o, 18+ only
masterlist
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The big, awful truth nobody tells you about hosting your fortieth birthday is how the shine of the day wears off once you see your friends and acquaintances laughing with their loved ones, talking about their kids, showing off pictures of newborns swaddled in soft linens, and making plans for upcoming holidays. 
Gojo sips his drink, pretending to understand. He’s never given much thought to settling down, to take an omega as a mate and fill his big empty house with the sounds of pealing laughter and little feet racing down the many halls.
Forty years old, and he’s ready to admit that living the life of a bachelor doesn’t hold the same appeal as it once did. That returning from a two-week-long business trip might be better if there were somebody to go home to.
Forty years old.
Instead of cozying up in the living room with a family he longs to have, he’s going to spend the rest of his night picking up plates and champagne flutes after everyone leaves because he forgot to hire a cleaning company—all alone in his big empty house, wondering if his secretary remembered to pick up his dry-cleaning for the week.
An unmated Alpha—the reminder chafes as much as the fact he’s getting older.
He finally understands why his late aunt divorced and got married again twice in the same year, why people buy nice vacation homes on white sandy beaches that make the crow’s feet around their eyes worse, and spend too much money on sports cars even though they stay parked for three-fourths of the year. He gets it now.
It’s more or less an epiphany of a sad, pathetic truth that he swallows down with something cold and bitter.
In the middle of his backyard, standing between his neighbor and his pregnant wife, Gojo wishes he were anywhere else. Inviting everyone he knows within driving distance no longer seems like the well-thought idea he’d presumed it’d been.
He makes a few more rounds around the garden before sneaking inside, escaping another conversation about engagements and wedding dates to hide away in his study.
That’s until he sees you out of the corner of his eye, looking through the bookcases in his living room.
A pretty slip of a girl in your modest cocktail dress and wide-framed glasses slipping down the slope of your nose. An Omega, alone, just like him; your clean, sweet, floral scent sticking to the back of his throat like syrup until it settles in his stomach. Enough to make him dizzy.
You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. Not that it really matters because his back straightens, no longer wallowing in self-pity, and he studies you with interest.
After a few moments, you finally glance his way, only for you to hastily return your attention to the book you pulled down from the shelf. Cute.
Gojo adjusts the tie around his neck and feels his lips twitch.
“Sorry,” you say softly, long lashes fluttering against the top of your cheeks. “I didn’t mean—I was only—My friend invited me, and she—”
You are too busy working yourself up over an explanation that you don’t notice when he sidles up next to you and reads over your shoulder. "I have more in my office if you want to take a look.”
“E-excuse me?” You make this breathy, choked sound and peer up at him from under your lashes. This visibly timid type of girl who bashfully looks away at the sight of his smile. For some reason, that makes his mouth go dry—makes his teeth ache. 
It’s rare to be so driven by instinct and rarer to actually listen to that instinct.
“Books,” he says. “Do you want to see them?”
His words take a second to sink in, and he smiles when he sees liquid clarity in your eyes. You blink owlishly, scent spiking, pleased. He stands there patiently, finding how you start rambling endearing, a slight, private grin splitting across his face—silently amused.
He thinks you'd bolt if it weren’t for the fact that he’s probably standing much too close, trapping a mouse by the tail.
“I–I g-guess,” you finally stutter.
It’s too easy: You letting him usher you up the stairs toward his office. 
If Gojo were a better person, a less lonely Alpha—a better man—he might feel bad for how well it works.
It’s no small thing to work the tiny zipper at your back and watch your dress pool around your feet. He barely gets the top three buttons of his shirt undone before you are—delightfully, inexplicably—up on the tips of your toes, timidly pushing your hands through his hair, mewling into the hollow of his throat, close to where his gland sits.
By the time he has you pressed against his office window, you’re this flustered little mess with crooked glasses, fingers streaking the once pristine glass to keep your balance, and breasts sticky and wet with spit.
“Good girl,” he mutters, pulling back to look down at where he’s splitting you open. “Such a good little Omega for me, aren’t you?”
You don’t answer, and he crowds you closer to the window, grasping your chin and tugging your head up until you’re looking at him upside down. He squeezes your cheeks together, your pouty, supple lips pushed out, and kisses your mouth, tasting you—unimaginably sweet.
“Tell me—tell me what a good girl you are,” even though he knows you can’t with his fingers pressing into your cheeks, but you try anyway.
“U-uh but—people c-can see.” 
The base of his cock tingles as he catches a line of drool spilling from the corner of your lips. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, soothing, and you steadily melt against him when he slips that same finger underneath the elastic of your underwear, lightly nudging your clit with the tip of his finger until you’re shivering beautifully again.
“That’s it. Don’t worry about them,” he coaxes lightly, but it comes out muffled because he says it with his mouth wrapped around the gland at the base of your neck, teasing himself with something he’s never allowed himself to have. Not yet. “Just you and me, okay?”
Gojo doesn’t let up until your back arches and shoulders tighten, his knot caught inside your cunt until all he can do is grind the tip of his cock against that spot that makes you squirm and whine. 
He smiles to himself when you hide behind your hands after realizing you ruined his pants, and he carefully falls back into his office chair, pulling you with him so you’re both looking out across the garden, where his guests walk around wholly unaware of the breathtaking little Omega who made his birthday worthwhile.
“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he muses, taking great pleasure in the way you start stuttering again.
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On his forty-first birthday, he doesn’t throw his own party but still hides in his office, his pretty wife in his lap, flustered because he never turned the lights off this time. If anyone happened to walk by on this side of the house, they’d be able to see everything—his omega, soft and swollen from a piece of him taking root inside you.
Families are about making traditions, he thinks, and he’d like to start a few traditions of his own; leaving his party to fuck his wife in the quiet of his office being one of them.
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melanchoire · 4 days ago
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PRICE OF CONCENTRATION ──── yu jimin
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── ( 📓 ) your focus is laser-sharp on the lecture, but your classmate karina, ever the mischievous one, decides boredom is a personal invitation to drive you wild; first with innocent attempts to catch your eye, then escalating to a secret game of teasing touches that slowly melt your resistance, until a shared, unspoken look seals the deal – textbooks forgotten, and the dorm room beckons for a different kind of study.
pairing. switch!student!yu jimin x switch!student!fem reader
warning(s). cunnilingus, fingering, making out, pet names, scissoring.
word count. 4,5k
request. for some reason this request disappeared from my inbox 💔 anyway, almost all requests are finished and prepared in my drafts to be published in the next few days 🙌🏻 so keep sending stuff, requests or thoughts are always welcome.
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the bright  lights of the lecture hall hummed, a monotonous drone that mirrored the professor’s voice, droning on about something you were sure was important, but karina couldn’t for the life of her care. you, however, were a model of academic focus, a bastion of attentiveness in a sea of glazed—over eyes and restless fidgeting. she watched you, her gaze tracing the neat, precise strokes of your pen as you filled your notebook with information. you were a machine, a perfect student, and it was honestly a little vexing.
you were a study in contrast to her current state. your posture was impeccable, your focus unwavering, your pen moving with a rhythmic precision across the page, capturing every nuance of the lecture. karina’s eyes seemed to trace the smooth lines of your handwriting, the neatness a stark contrast to her own messy scrawl.
she straightened a little, trying to emulate your focus. she leaned forward, eyes darting to the screen where the professor was projecting dense formulas and colorful graphs. you could almost see the struggle in her face, her brow furrowing in concentration as she attempted to follow along. but it was like watching a car try to start on a cold morning, sputtering a few times before succumbing to silence. her concentration faltered, her gaze drifting to the window behind the professor, where a few brave sparrows were flitting about.
karina leaned back in her own chair, stretching her legs out beneath the desk, a silent protest against the suffocating boredom of the class. she crossed her arms over her chest, a gesture that screamed, “i’d rather be anywhere else.” she turned to you again, a small frown creasing her brow as she watched you. how could you be so engaged in this? it was like you were a different species entirely. she tried. oh god, did she try. she tried to mimic you, focusing her attention on the professor, willing herself to absorb the words, the concepts. but it was like trying to grasp water — the harder she tried, the more it slipped through her mental fingers. it was as if her ears were working, registering the sounds of the lecture, but her brain was refusing to process them, like a stubborn computer refusing to run a program. her mind was a tangled mess of “why was she even here?” and “does this really matter?”
giving up, a defeated sigh escaping her lips, she decided to go for a different approach. she scanned your pencil case, a kaleidoscope of brightly coloured pens and highlighters, and plucked out a vibrant purple one. she made a pathetic attempt at taking notes, the pencil scratching against the paper, but her handwriting was a chaotic mess of angles and loops, completely devoid of the neatness you possessed. vague, disconnected words filled the page, interspersed with doodles of abstract shapes and grumpy—looking faces.
boredom gnawed at her, a restless beast demanding attention. she turned towards you, poking your arm with the end of the pen. she wanted to talk, she wanted your attention, she wanted anything but this agonizing lecture. you didn't even look up. you knew what it meant. she was like a bored child, seeking attention, eager to find someone to share her misery with. you continued to transcribe the professor’s words, unfazed.
you didn’t miss a beat of the professor’s monotone, your hand still moving across the page. karina felt an inexplicable urge of annoyance bubbling up within her. then came the poke again, this time a little harder. she was persistent, you had to give her that. still, you refused to acknowledge her. so, she poked you again, a third time this time, it was quick as if giving you the pencil. that’s when you reached out, taking the pencil from her fingers. you didn’t even break eye contact with the professor. you didn’t see the small scoff that escaped her lips, the way her eyes narrowed in playful frustration.
she wasn’t going to be brushed off that easily. karina reached for the cord of your headphones, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. she yanked it from your ears, the soft humming of the song you were listening to floating into the air, a low, rhythmic pulse. you finally turned to look at her, one eyebrow arched in a silent question. karina knew that look. she was going to get a lecture about class soon if she didn’t diffuse this now. she’ll take the risk. she loved when she got you going.
you gave her a light punch on the arm, just a playful tap, but it still stung a little. “pay attention.” you mouthed, your voice low, a clear line drawn in the sand, but she couldn’t help but notice the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of your lips.
“class is boring.” she retorted, hitting you back in the arm, a little harder this time. “i’m bored.”
“well, if you paid attention, you might not be.” you whispered back, a hint of exasperation in your eyes, but it was clear you weren’t actually mad.
“you’re weird for actually liking this.” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. you chuckled lightly.
“you know i like learning.” you said. “It’s not my fault you can't focus for five seconds.”
“hey!” she exclaimed, her voice a little louder this time, drawing a quick glare from the professor. you exchanged a quick look, a silent agreement that she had pushed it, before you returned to your notes, effectively shutting her out.
for a good five minutes, she was silent. you figured she had finally run out of energy. then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her pick up a pen and begin to write in her notebook. “okay.” you thought, that’s unexpected. you didn’t let it distract you, though, because you were focused on the next set of formulas.
that is, until you felt it. a touch, feather—light, on the side of your knee. you glanced down, your heart doing an unexpected leap in your chest. karina’s hand, warm and soft, was resting there, seemingly innocent. she was still writing in her notebook, her attention appearing to be fixed on the professor, but that hand, though, was doing more than just resting.
you tried to dismiss it. maybe she was just being absent—minded, maybe she didn’t realize she was touching you. but then the hand started to move, inching upwards slowly, tracing the curve of your leg as it went, the subtle graze of her fingers sending shivers up your spine. it reached your thigh, the warmth of her palm making your skin tingle.
you shifted slightly. surely she would stop now. it was a blatant invasion of your space, and you were certain she was doing it on purpose. but no, the hand kept moving, its fingers now pressing gently into your flesh. it was heading higher, angling to slip under the hem of your skirt.
your breath caught in your throat. the lecture faded into background noise, the formulas on the screen becoming a blur. your heart was pounding in your chest. you could feel the blood rushing to your face, your cheeks getting warmer, and you were sure you were turning as red as a tomato. you glanced sideways to meet her eyes, not before letting out a small cough, trying to sound as subtle as possible.
“karina.” you hissed in a low, barely audible whisper, a warning laced in your breath. you tried to sound stern, but there was a tremor in your voice that was quite embarrassing. her gaze flickered from her notebook to meet yours, the corner of her lips twitching upwards in a knowing smirk. she raised an eyebrow, as if to say “what?”, her eyes wide and innocent.
“stop.” you mouthed, your voice barely a breath.
she simply shook her head, her fingers now almost touching the edge of your skirt, and whispered back, “pay attention.” her voice an innocent whisper that barely reached your ears. the smirk never left her face, the mischievous glint in her eyes telling you everything. she was playing with you, teasing you, testing your patience. and you had a feeling she was enjoying every second of it.
karina’s hand, a warm, persistent weight on your knee, was the culprit. it had started subtly, a gentle brush, and had gradually escalated, inching higher with each passing minute. 
it was a battle against your own body, a struggle to focus on the quadratic equations scribbled on the chalkboard when karina’s hand rested, bold and possessive, on your thigh. it wasn’t just on your thigh, not really. her fingers were creeping higher, inching towards the hem of your skirt, the whisper of fabric against skin sending shivers that had nothing to do with the overly air—conditioned room. 
now, her fingers were perilously closer to the edge of your skirt, threatening to slip beneath and find the delicate lace of your panties. your breath hitched. you couldn’t focus on the teacher’s droning lecture; every nerve ending was screaming under the tantalizing pressure of her touch.
a simple glance, a fleeting lock of your eyes with hers, was all it took. you saw the same anticipation mirrored in their depths, a shared understanding of the unspoken desires crackling in the air between you. a silent promise of something more, something that couldn’t happen within the confines of the brightly lit classroom.
you knew the dance by now; the way her eyes, dark and mischievous, met yours, a coded language spoken only between the two of you. it was a simple exchange, a silent understanding of the desire that simmered beneath the surface.
you were barely registering the teacher’s droning voice, your attention consumed by the escalating heat radiating from karina’s touch. your breath hitched, a small, involuntary gasp that you hoped went unnoticed. you glanced at her, a question in your eyes, and her answering smirk sent a thrill through you. it was time.
karina’s voice, smooth as honey and laced with a playful urgency, cut through the monotonous lecture. “excuse me, mr. kim?” she called, her hand still firmly planted on your thigh. your skin prickled with anticipation. “i think that… well, maybe we should go to the bathroom. she’s not feeling too well.”
all eyes turned to you. you felt your face flush even more, a blush that wasn’t entirely faked. the combination of karina’s touch and the sudden attention had your heart hammering against your ribs. you felt the familiar clamminess of your palms, and the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead was real enough, lending truth to karina’s claim. the teacher, a middle—aged man who barely registered his students beyond the first row, glanced at you with a perfunctory frown. “you alright, miss…?” he squinted, searching his register your face.
you could feel the heat rising more in your cheeks, mirroring the flush you already felt from karina’s touch. you pressed your lips together, trying to look convincingly ill. a slight sweat dampened your forehead, the nervousness and anticipation adding to the charade. you gave a weak little cough, hoping it added to the effect.
mr. kim, ever the gullible academic, peered at you with concern. “oh my, you do look a bit pale. are you alright?”
you managed a feeble nod, grateful for the dramatic flare that karina had instigated. “yes, just a bit lightheaded.”
he seemed convinced enough. “alright, go along then. but don’t take too long.” he dismissed you with a wave of his hand, turning back to the whiteboard, utterly unaware of the charade playing out before him.
you practically bolted from your seat, grateful for the reprieve. you expected karina to lead you toward the bathrooms or the infirmary down the corridor, but instead, she took your hand again, her grip firm, and guided you in the opposite direction, toward the dormitories. a thrill shot through you. you glanced at her, raising an eyebrow in question.
“the infirmary is that way.” you murmured, a hesitant question hovering in your tone.
“we’re not going to the stupid infirmary right now. of course, we’ll get there, don’t worry.” karina replied, her hand now resting on your lower back, guiding you forward. “but first things first.” she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “my room is closer. we can… recharge there."
“but what about class?” you asked, trying not to let your voice betray your excitement.
karina winked. “after the fun, we'll go to the infirmary, get a note. problem solved. you’re still 'sick', after all.” she said, emphasizing the last word with a mischievous lift of her brow. “we’ll get a medical certificate, and we can give it to your professor.”
“he’ll probably notice that there’s a big time difference between when we left the classroom and when we went to the infirmary. and he’ll wonder why it took us so long to get to the infirmary after we left class.” you pointed out, trying to sound like you were trying to be responsible, even though your heart was already racing at the prospect of what was about to happen.
“we’ll say that we were in the bathroom because you were nauseous or you went to wet your face and cool off. or maybe even that you felt dizzy and almost fainted? i don’t know, but we’ll figure something out.” she says, her grin growing at the look of disbelief on your face. karina bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. “too extreme, isn’t it? well… how about we just say we went out onto the terrace or something because you needed some fresh air? maybe we can even blame it on the awful school lunch, if he still asks.” she added, her voice laced with amusement. “he never pays attention anyway.”
you couldn’t help but laugh, any lingering doubts swiftly melting away under her infectious energy. as you approached her dorm door, you noticed a name tag next to it. “wait, what about your roommate?” you asked, remembering the other girl whose name you vaguely recalled being “giselle”.
karina chuckled, pushing the door open and waves a dismissive hand. “don’t worry about her. she hasn't been in the dorm since the party last weekend. she always crashes at someone’s place after parties… she’s probably sleeping off a hangover at her boyfriend’s place. i haven’t seen her around since then, at least.” you had to admit, you had expected her to be there. you found yourself thanking her party habits internally. “don’t worry about her. let’s just focus on what matters, okay?”
she pulled you into the room, the door clicking shut behind you, and suddenly, you were alone. the room was neat, a stark contrast to the controlled chaos of karina’s personality. it smelled faintly of vanilla and something uniquely hers, a scent that made your senses swim. 
but the air in the small space crackled with a palpable tension. karina turned, her eyes locking with yours, and all the words, the worries, the questions, evaporated.
she reached for you, her hands cupping your face, her thumbs tracing the line of your jaw, and you were lost. her lips met yours, a soft, gentle pressure that quickly deepened into a hungry kiss. you tasted her, the sweet tang of her lip gloss, the warmth of her mouth, and you melted into the sensation.
your hands moved, finding their way to her shoulders, pulling her closer, desperate for any skin-to-skin contact. her fingers tangled in your hair, gently tugging as she deepened the kiss, and you moaned into her mouth, the sound raw and unfiltered.
the world narrowed to the feel of her lips on yours, the soft gasp of her breath mingling with your own. you could feel her body pressed against yours, the soft curves of her hips and the firm press of her chest, sending shivers of desire through you. you could practically feel her grin against your lips, as if she was just as giddy as you were.
but of course, you two couldn’t stay as two lovey—dovey people for long. 
now the kiss was hot, demanding, a release of all the pent—up tension that had been simmering between you since earlier in class. her hands, now free from the confines of your skirt, tangled in your hair, deepening the kiss. you leaned into her, your body pressing against hers, the soft texture of her shirt against your skin igniting a fire within you.
karina broke the kiss, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. she was a sight to behold, dark eyes shining, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and red: an absolute goddess. “wow.” she whispered, her voice husky. “that’s... more than i was expecting.”
you, a little flustered still, managed a breathy laugh. “better than boring classes, right?”
she grinned, a flash of white teeth against her flushed face. “absolutely. come here.” she murmured.
she grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you towards her bed, her nails digging into your skin. as soon as you two reached it, she pushed you down onto the mattress, crawling over you with a predatory grace.
she straddled your hips, her knees on either side of your thighs as she loomed over you. her hands gripped the hem of your shirt and in one swift motion, she yanked it up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. she took a moment to admire your bared skin, her eyes roaming over your curves hungrily.
leaning down, she pressed her lips to your collarbone, her tongue tracing the delicate bone before she nipped at your skin. her teeth grazed your neck, leaving a trail of red marks in her wake as she made her way up to your jawline.
she captured your bottom lip between her teeth, tugging on it gently before soothing the sting with her tongue. she kissed you deeply, passionately, pouring all her lust and desire into the kiss. her hands slid down your sides, her fingers splaying across your ribcage.
karina’s hands slid further down, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt. with a wicked grin, she tugged them down your legs, taking your panties with them. she tossed the pleated fabric and lace aside, leaving you bare and exposed beneath her.
she took a moment to admire your naked form, her eyes darkening with unbridled lust. she licked her lips, her gaze lingering on the juncture between your thighs. slowly, teasingly, she ran a finger along your slit, feeling the slick heat gathering there.
“fuck, baby, you’re so wet already.” she purred, her voice low and dripping with desire. “i’ve barely touched you and you're already dripping for me. such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”
she circled your clit with the pad of her thumb, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. her other hand slid up your stomach to your breast, kneading the soft flesh roughly. she pinched your nipple between her fingers, rolling the hardened nub between them.
karina leaned down, her hot breath ghosting over your aching core. she inhaled deeply, the scent of your arousal filling her nostrils. a low, approving moan rumbled in her throat before she dragged her tongue along your slit, tasting your essence.
”mmmh, you taste even better than i imagined.” she murmured, her voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. she circled your clit with the tip of her tongue before suckling on the hardened bud, sending jolts of electricity through your body.
she dipped a finger into your entrance, pumping it in and out of your tight channel. she curled it upwards, stroking that special spot inside you that made your toes curl. her thumb continued its relentless assault on your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles around it.
karina could feel your walls fluttering around her finger, your body tensing as she brought you closer to the edge. she added a second finger, stretching you further, filling you completely. she pumped them in and out of you, her palm slapping against your clit with each thrust.
karina could feel your body trembling beneath her touch, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. she knew you were close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. she doubled her efforts, her fingers pumping into you harder, faster, determined to push you over the edge.
“that’s it, baby, come for me.” she growled, her voice rough with lust. “i want to feel you come undone on my fingers, i want to taste your pleasure on my tongue.”
she sealed her mouth over your clit, sucking hard as she thrust a third finger deep inside you. she curled them, stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, pushing you ruthlessly towards your peak.
your back arched off the bed, your hands fisting in the sheets as the coil of tension in your belly snapped. you cried out, your voice echoing off the walls of your dorm room as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.
karina didn’t let up, continuing to work you through your climax with her fingers and tongue. she drank down your release, moaning in satisfaction as your essence flooded her mouth. finally, as the aftershocks began to subside, she slowed her movements, gentling her touch.
she crawled up your body, her fingers trailing over your sweat—slicked skin. she captured your lips in a searing kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on her tongue. she smiled against your mouth, a wicked, triumphant smile.
“not bad for a warm-up, gorgeous.” she purred, nipping at your bottom lip. “but we’re far from done.”
her fingers find the waistband of her jeans, unbuttoning the button and lowering the zipper, pulling down her pants along with underwear from her long legs in the blink of an eye. a wicked grin spread across her face as she rolled onto her back, pulling you on top of her. she gripped your hips, her fingers digging into your soft flesh as she guided you to straddle her waist.
“c’mon baby.” she purred, her voice low and dripping with lust. “let’s see how well you handle being on top. impress me.”
she reached up to cup your breasts, kneading the supple mounds in her hands. she rolled your nipples between her fingers, pinching and tugging on the hardened peaks until you gasped.
karina’s other hand slid down your back, her nails raking over your skin until she reached your ass. she gripped your cheeks, squeezing the firm globes in her hands before pulling you forward, grinding your slick heat against her own.
karina’s eyes darkened with lust as she felt your wetness coating her skin, your arousal evident in the slick slide of your folds against her own. she rocked her hips up against yours, the hard ridge of her clit rubbing against your sensitive nub in a delicious friction.
“fuck… you’re so fucking wet.” she groaned, her voice strained with desire. “i can feel how much you want this, how much you need to fuck me.”
she guided your hips in a slow, sensual grind against hers, the movement allowing you both to feel the heat and pressure building between your thighs. her hands slid up your sides to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh roughly as she watched your face intently.
karina could see the pleasure playing out across your features, the way your lips parted in soft gasps and moans as you moved against her. she leaned up to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, her tongue delving deep to dance with yours.
she nipped at your bottom lip before trailing her mouth down to your neck, her teeth grazing the delicate skin. she sucked hard, intent on marking you as hers, on leaving her claim for all to see.
“ride me, baby.” she commanded, her voice low and rough with lust. “take what you need, what you want. ise me for your pleasure.”
karina’s hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding you as you began to move. you rolled your hips in a slow, sensual grind against hers, your slick folds sliding against hers. the sensation of your wetness mingling with hers was intoxicating, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core.
as you found a rhythm, you started to bounce on her lap, your breasts jiggling with each downward motion. karina’s eyes were glued to your chest, watching the mesmerizing dance of your curves. she leaned up to catch a nipple in her mouth, suckling hard as her hand kneaded your other breast roughly.
her hips jerked up to meet yours, the head of her clit catching on your own with each thrust. the pressure built inside both of you, the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your bellies. you could feel karina’s muscles tensing beneath you, her body drawing closer to the edge.
karina’s fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks wide as she pulled you down harder, urging you to give her more. she could feel your walls fluttering around her, your body tightening like a coiled spring.
“that’s it, baby, fuck me just like that.” she panted, her voice ragged with desire. “i’m so fucking close. come with me, come on my pussy. i want to feel you fucking soak me.”
karina could feel your movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. your hips were moving frantically, grinding and rolling against hers in a wild dance. the obscene sound of your wetness filled the room, the slick slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls.
she could feel her own release building, the tension in her core winding tighter and tighter. she was so close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. she needed you to come with her, needed to feel your pleasure as you rode her hard and fast.
“fuck, don’t stop.” she growled, her voice strained and rough. “i’m gonna come, baby. come with me, fucking soak me with your cum. i want to feel you fucking drench me as i come undone.”
she slammed sharply her hips up against yours, her clit rubbing hard against your own. the sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pure pleasure shooting through your core. your body stiffened, your back arching as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave.
karina let out a guttural moan, her voice echoing off the walls as her own orgasm consumed her. her hips jerked and twitched beneath you, her body shaking with the force of her release. she could feel your walls clenching around her, your essence gushing out to coat her skin.
she gripped your hips hard, holding you in place as she ground against you, riding out the aftershocks of her climax. she panted harshly, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. finally, she collapsed back onto the bed, pulling you down with her.
karina wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as she peppered your face with soft kisses. she smiled up at you, her eyes shining with satisfaction and contentment. “... that was incredible.” she murmured, her voice soft and sated. “we’re definitely doing that again, baby. and again, and again…”
just as she was about to continue, a knock on the front bedroom door brings you two out of the intimate moment you were having. 
“karina? are you in there? it's me, giselle. can you open the door? i lost my keys during the party last friday! actually, i think i lost my entire handbag…”
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forkingandcountry-if · 6 months ago
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For King and Country is an 18+ period low fantasy fic which seeks to combine the extensive background work and history associated with high fantasy titles such as LOTR with more ‘realistic’ storytelling and settings. It may contain distressing content like depiction of regressive attitudes (sexism, misogyny and prejudice), major injury to the characters, character deaths, blood, gore, abuse and optional sexual content. More specific warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter.
Chapter 1 Out Now! (277k words)
Remember those long summer days when the countryside was green and life was still young, when you were but a little culver and all the world was promised for you.
But summer has ended. Amidst the furore and tumult, autumn crept in unnoticed, finding you unprepared, still a greenhorn.
Now, the old order is dead, yet the Empire endures. In this new and uncertain world, what are you willing to do for your King and Country, O little culver?
Ah little tragedies, that you could not remain in the safety of your family's country manor, that they could not shield you once again from this world.
You must take to the capital at once, like all men and women of good birth, for king and country and the glory of the commonwealth! The spirit of progress and change has swept through the nation. The heady days of revolution are long over, and the streets have been washed clean of blood and filth. Invited to serve in the King's Army and attend university as a ward of the king, you must answer the King’s call. Navigate and become increasingly entangled in the web of intrigue, gossip, violence, and ideas that swirl around the nation. Enter a society radically different from the one you were raised to expect. These are the years that will decide your fate and that of your fellow countrymen. Act wisely, for it is not often that the world is within your grasp.
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Features
Fully customize your MC. Choose your pronouns, sexuality, appearance and more. Assume the identity of a citizen of noble birth and experience the story through their eyes.
Romance one of eight ROs or engage in a polyamorous relationship with a pre-selected two of them. The only possible poly route is the Young King and the Queen Ruler.
Practice and specialise in the skills of the King's Army with the option for swordplay, marksmanship, offensive galderquid and diplomacy.
Define your political leanings on the leading issues of your time.
Debate, engage and make allies and enemies with the various competing factions and interests that flock to the city.
Study at Azma University, earning your lecturers admiration for your diligence, intellect, ambition or adventurousness or cruise through relying on your wealth and ability to hide.
Help to stabilize or sabotage the Empire.
Don't lose your head.
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Critical Lore*
Talent
Galder denotes the practice of magic within our nation, a discipline requiring extensive study and mastery. The ability to manipulate Galderquid, the fundamental essence of magic, is a rare and intricate skill, demanding years of rigorous training to achieve even moderate proficiency.
Every individual possesses a basic affinity for Galderquid, but those with exceptional potential are identified through comprehensive evaluations conducted by village or city physicians around the ages of 12 or 13. These assessments determine the individual's capacity for advanced magical education.
Upon evaluation, candidates are assigned a national rank based on their proficiency. Those demonstrating exceptional aptitude are offered state-sponsored education at the Azma Univetsity at the age of 18. Others are placed in various other institutions or may pursue private tutelage.
Galder is often referred to as the "fifth philosophy," characterized by its non-intuitive nature. Mastery requires adherence to rigorous methodologies grounded in reason, first principles, and established precedents. The study of Galder encompasses several specialized fields, each with distinct applications and techniques:
Sympathetic Galder: This field focuses on influencing the minds of individuals or animals. It includes practices such as illusion creation, language translation, emotional manipulation, and sleep inducement.
Transmutative Galder: Involves altering the intrinsic nature or form of objects. This process generally relies on the principle that the original and transformed items must possess equivalent 'worth.' The approximate worth of common subjects of transmutation can be found in any good transmutation book.
Invocation Galder: Pertains to the summoning and manipulation of natural elements, including water, earth, fire, and wind.
Clerical Galder: Associated with the Church, this field is predominantly closed practice. However, educational institutions provide instruction in healing and charming, which are also fundamental aspects of clerical magic.
Archery: Involves the use of Galder to manifest a bow and arrows composed of energy. These projectiles deliver significant blunt damage upon impact but they have more varied usage and techniques as taught by bow-masters.
Blade-Use: Similar to Archery, this field focuses on creating blades, swords, or daggers from Galder. These weapons inflict substantial blunt damage but they have more varied usage and techniques as taught by blade-masters.
The Second Civil War
The Second Civil War, also known as the Revolution, erupted ten years ago and lasted for two years, reshaping the political landscape of the realm. The conflict ended with the ascension of King Edmund I of House Wynd, following a tumultuous period of unrest and upheaval. The war’s roots lay in years of widespread discontent under King Wulfric I Wynd, whose governance was marked by controversial policies and growing resentment among the populace.
The immediate trigger for the war was King Wulfric's deathbed decision to legitimize his illegitimate son and name him heir presumptive, bypassing his eldest daughter, who was widely expected to ascend the throne. This unprecedented act enraged both the nobility and commoners, particularly in Redeemist regions, where it was seen as an affront to both justice and religious teachings. Protests erupted across the empire, with laborers and yeomanry deposing officials loyal to the usurper in a series of violent uprisings. Martial law was declared as the disinherited princess rallied loyal houses and nobility to her cause.
The rebellion gained a critical leader in Marshal Walthe Courtney, a veteran of the unpopular Eleven Years’ War. Courtney’s military acumen and strategic alliances with peasant uprisings turned the tide of the conflict. Alongside the Princess’s royal forces, his army executed a series of decisive sieges, culminating in the Siege of the King's Seat, where the usurper was overthrown.
The war concluded with a great council of the great houses instituting sweeping reforms. Though the monarchy was retained, it was bound by a codified constitution, the Grand East Code, ensuring limits to royal power. Tragically, the Princess died on the battlefield, leaving behind a will that named her youngest brother, Edmund, as the rightful heir. She bypassed their older brother, Cassian, whom she described as “too choleric and red-blooded in his aspect for the duties of kingship,” appointing him as regent until Edmund came of age at 18.
The post-war reforms sought to balance power and placate the revolutionary factions led then by Courtney:
Parliamentary Restructuring: The previous weak bicameral parliament that had been unable to prevent the amendment of the Act of Succession was replaced by a unicameral National Assembly with expanded suffrage for yeomanry and laborers owning sufficient land. Eligibility criteria were simplified, and elections were set to occur every eight years.
Military and Noble Oversight: Nobles' heirs were required to serve as wards of the king for 24 months upon reaching the age of 18, receiving military training and living in the capital. This was framed as a means to unite the realm but also served to prevent rebellion and strengthen Edmund's legitimacy.
Expanded Education: Azma University, previously exclusive to the nobility, was opened to all individuals of suitable skill, broadening access to education and opportunity.
General Walthe Courtney, hailed as a war hero, was appointed Lord Protector with sweeping powers to some extent by the demand of the peasant army he'd led. He served as Commander of the Armies and a critical stabilizing force throughout Edmund’s reign and Cassian’s regency. The King’s Council was restructured to include the elected Premier, who could recommend cabinet appointments, although the King retained the final decision. Early in his reign, King Edmund has established a precedent of accepting the recommendations of both the Premier and the Lord Protector, balancing the demands of reformists and royalists alike.
The King's Army and Azma University
The King's Army, colloquially known among the common folk as the Small Army or King's Life Guard, serves as a voluntary armed force in peacetime within the Empire. Its primary role is to function as a national guard, maintaining peace and order across the extensive and diverse territories of the Empire and swear loyalty solely to the King.
During periods of peace, the King's Guard is comprised of volunteers who contribute to the stability of the nation. However, in times of war, the monarch is vested with the authority to implement conscription, thereby obligating the great houses to raise men to fight for their king.
Following the Great Council of 421, significant reforms were introduced regarding service in the King's Guard. Those heirs of great houses are now required to complete two years service and training within the King's Army as wards of the king although this time can be commuted upon ascension as Lord/Lady Paramount of their house. This training is relatively light compared to full military training, designed to balance the economic and educational responsibilities of these citizens with their military duties.
Azma University is a theological university founded in the year 262AR by Trista of Azma, a master of theology and galder and was recognized by the King as a royal college in 289AR. It's Faculty of Theology is unrivaled across the entirety of the world and is considered one of the foremost institutions for education in galder, theology and philosophy.
Azma admits its students on the basis of the national ranking system and the census taken each year, those students with a sufficiently high natural affinity for the study of galder are offered a place in which to study it beyond the common extent offered by tutors and hedge-witches.
Azma has in recent years, following the second civil war and the increase in punishment by religious courts for physicians who attribute false rankings, with an increased student cohort particularly from the yeomanry and international scholars though the large majority of the general cohort remains largely consisted of the children of nobility.
Beyond its Faculty of Theology, Azma University is one of the foremost institutions driving forward the development of innovations regarding farming and building, mechanics and the engine'ering class that has developed in major cities across the Empire.
Situated in the capital city, Azma University benefits from its central location in what is often regarded as a hub of youthful energy and societal activity. Its reputation as a center for young nobles and genteel individuals enhances the college's role as a key venue for social introduction. It is frequently heralded as a place where the most advantageous social and matrimonial matches are made, positioning it as a pivotal institution in shaping the elite's social landscape.
The Empire
The Empire, as it is commonly known, is a vast realm governed by the Nine Paramountcies and the Imperial Household, all of whom rule from the King's Seat. This grand structure of power was forged between the years 23 ANU (Anno Non Unitus, or Year of the Ununified) and 1 AR (Anno Rex, or Year of the King) through the conquests of King Adan I, who earned the title "the Unifier."
From its inception, the Empire adopted an expansionist stance, which has characterized much of its history. This policy of territorial growth has been met with widespread approval among its citizens, largely due to the substantial wealth and resources it has brought to the nation. As the largest empire in the world and the unifier of the continent, it has established itself as the dominant lingua franca of common, further solidifying its influence and stature.
Throughout the Empire's history, the Imperial Household and the title of King have primarily been held by House Galagar, reigning from 1 AR to 399 AR, and later by House Wynd, from 399 AR to 438 AR. There have been instances where other houses acted as regents, temporarily holding the title on behalf of House Galagar, such as House Champion (348 AR-352 AR) and House Abbey (9 AR-13 AR & 154AR-155AR).
Despite its vast wealth and dominance, the Empire has faced relatively frequent rebellions in its paramountcies where calls for independence have persisted. Historically, these uprisings have been met with swift and overwhelming military responses. However, recently in 399AR during the Wyndham Rebellion, King Hendrick the Conqueror succeeded in overthrowing House Galagar and replacing it with his own house who have led the empire since.
*The lore detailed here is accurate but also only extends as far as the protagonist's knowledge of these subjects at the present time of the fic, some detail will be lost or may have been withheld from the MC and they may have misconceptions.
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Romances
When the advisors are not praising his good sense, nor the bards his mirth, the church his piety or the poor his generosity, the question emerges just who is King Edmund I Wynd?
The young king thrust into a position of power who uses it as well as he knows how, having learnt from the mistakes of his grandfather and father and the long shadow of war that is still cast over the continent?
Or is he merely the figurehead, installed after a turbulent civil war, a king whose true authority has been surrendered to the councilors around him, contenting himself with the trappings of kingship rather than its substance?
Alas who is to know?
Name: King Edmund I Wynd
Age: 21
Height: 6'5
Appearance: Edmund stands at a 6'5, noticeably lanky although his seemingly permanent jaunty posture appears to cut an inch or two of him. He possesses short bronde hair styled in such a fashion that it appears wind-swept and fashionably ruffled with various products used to achieve the effect. He possesses a lean athletic physique although it is evidently achieved through some sort of diet or exercise for aesthetic rather than being muscles created by years of work. He nearly always has a relaxed expression with a smile and his pale face is framed by his grey eyes.
(he/him) poly-route, solo-route
Tropes: Life of the Party, Commitment Issues
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Could it be that she, the queen consort, wields the true power behind the throne, acting as a surrogate for her kind lord, who never could bring himself to grasp the reins of authority?
She possesses the strength and allure of a king in her own right. Under her vigilant oversight, the king’s armies have routed the empire's foes, and now her gaze turns inward, determined to root out the treacherous elements within the realm.
Yet, amid her march towards peace at the end of a sword, there are those who seek to see her order destroyed. How long can it last? A queen consort without an heir, without children, lacking a direct claim to the throne, aging, and some even question her bond with the king himself.
Name: Veronica Abbey-Wynd
Age: 36
Height: 5'9
Appearance: Veronica stands straight at a tall 5'9 although her heels often push her to 5'11 or even 6'0. She has long wavy chestnut brown hair although more often than not it is in an updo of some sort for practicality. She has a healthy physique with faint lines and wrinkles, with an olive skin as well as doe-shaped deep brown eyes. Somehow a picture of beauty and severity, all the soft lines of her body somehow harsh.
(she/her) poly-route, solo-route
Tropes: scary hot, masc women
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Walthe Courtney, Commander of the King’s Armies and Protector of the Realm, emerged as a formidable figure in the Second Civil War. Leading the rebels with unmatched martial prowess, he earned the acclaim of being the finest swordsman in the land. His valor and leadership were instrumental in overthrowing the usurper-king and restoring order to the fractured realm.
In the aftermath of the bloody conflict, he was celebrated as a folk hero—a commoner who rose to lead his people to victory and bring about a semblance of peace. His contributions were rewarded with knighthood and elevation to nobility, an ode to his honour.
Now, as Protector of the Realm, Walthe ensures the continuation of stability with a steady hand. Yet, despite his efforts, a persistent thorn remains, a challenge beyond even his considerable grasp, casting a shadow over his otherwise successful stewardship.
Name: Walthe Courtney
Age: 43
Height: 5'11
Appearance: Walthe has short, practical wavy black hair streaked with grey throughout, reflecting years of experience and hardship. their muscled, well-built stature is a testament to their years of service. He has warm tanned skin, indicative of his heritage being from the centre of the continent. His light green eyes stand out against his rugged features, with a determined, piercing gaze.
(he/him/they) solo-route
Tropes: The Stoic, No Sense of Humour, Heroic BSoD
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From the day his family and house declared for the usurper-king, it was clear that Lorn Greenspan, the youngest of seven brothers, would be sent away as a ward.
Only eight years old, he had to play his part, leaving behind the familiar chill of his home—its cold peaks and harsh landscape fading from sight. He was a pawn in a conflict he could scarcely comprehend
His father had told him plainly that he must be strong—because until the day their house bent the knee, Lorn would remain a ward, and his father had no intention of surrendering.
Forced to adapt, Lorn became useful, talented, indispensable—not out of love for those his family would call captors, but out of necessity. Now, he stands as your closest advisor and a member of your house in all but name—cool, calculating, indifferent. Yet beneath that icy exterior burns a quiet resolve. Though he never expects his father to yield, he is determined to see his homeland again, even if it means waging war to bring it to heel.
Name: Lorn of Greenspan
Age: 18
Height: 6'0
Appearance: Lorn has a thick head of dark chestnut hair, gently wavy, it is always styled fashionably with pomade and volume. He has a tawny complexion and almost amber, brown eyes that if you didn't know him you'd think were perpetually concerned and caring rather than probing and scanning. Though under his stylish clothes you couldn't tell it, his body is lean and athletic from harsh training.
(he/him) solo-route
Tropes: advisor-turned-lover, secretly-in-love, black cat
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The unbroken line of Galagar Kings may have fractured at Kirston Wall, but the proud Highland rulers never truly relinquished their claim. To them, Hendrick the Conqueror and his descendants are nothing more than traitors. Yet, they understand that a king's throne is grounded in the right of conquest, and so they bide their time, quietly assembling their forces, tempering their men, and honing their blades.
Preparing for the inevitable clash, they drill relentlessly through lashing rain and violent gales, each generation more convinced of their righteousness and the frailty of their enemies. The realm may slumber in uneasy peace, but in the Highlands, war is always on the horizon.
Kent Galagar, the young Lord of Kirston, was shaped by this belief from childhood. His father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather—all were kings in their own eyes, their thrones stolen by usurpers. To Kent, acknowledging this truth makes you an ally, a friend. To deny it brands you an enemy, destined to be crushed when the time comes.
For Kent, proud, arrogant, and stubborn as he may seem, the world is divided by a simple truth: those who support the Galagar claim, and those who will fall before it.
Name: Kent Galagar
Age: 18
Height: 5'9
Appearance: Kent possesses a mane of thick, raven-black hair, often left loose or tied back with a leather strap. His skin is scattered with freckling, with a pale complexion. He has piercing blue eyes and a gaze that can shift from arrogant levity to fiery determination in an instant. His powerful frame is unmistakable, with broad shoulders and a chest that strains against the fabric of his tunics. His physique is defined—broad-shouldered and muscular, but not overly so, with a build that suggests both agility and power. His movements carry the confidence of someone who knows his strength and is unafraid to use it.
(he/him) solo-route
Tropes: Intense, enemies to lovers, jerk with a heart of gold
-
The nobility are arrogant, cruel, greedy, scheming, and foolish—qualities Arfryn has learned all too well through her peripheral access to them. Her current place among them is no accident but the product of the sweat, blood and tears of her entire family.
Born to a guildman father and a common mother from the east continent, Arfryn witnessed firsthand how the shifting tides of national conflict mirrored the fortunes of her own family. Every struggle either bolstered their wealth or teetered them on the brink of ruin, a fate shared by the yeomanry at large.
Her father, Jasper Caldwell, is the first Premier elected from the Small Parliament, a yeoman elevated by the newly enfranchised class. He has—in no uncertain terms—made it clear that his own position hinges on the peace of the realm.
Arfryn, understanding these dynamics, sees through the superficial grandeur of the nobility. Though she finds them to be the very embodiment of arrogance and folly, she is determined to bend them to her will. For now, she plays the game—offering smiles, be gracious, and dance while they are watching.
Name: Arfryn Caldwell
Age: 20
Height: 5'11
Appearance: Arfryn has a striking presence with her rich, deep brown skin and loose, jet-black braids that cascade down her back. Her eyes are a penetrating dark brown, revealing a sharp intelligence behind a charming, amiable demeanor. She dresses in elegantly simple fabrics that highlight her natural grace—always muted and refined to suit her surroundings but always at the very forefront of courtly fashions. At 5'11 her movements are deliberate, blending seamlessly into the nobility’s world, designed to make her easy to like and hard to hold grudges against.
(she/her) solo-route
Tropes: Steel Magnolia, Dark Feminine
-
In public Dean Champion is everything a Lady-Knight should be, prodigiously skilled with both galder and weapons, valiant, chivalrous and extremely popular amongst all who meet her or have the chance to witness her in action.
She like many knights is also spoiled to a fault, her suits of armour gleaming and her squire-boys tasked with keeping them so, as they are expensive and extravagant. Indeed she wears them because all people like a performance.
In private, Dean has dedicated herself entirely to her studies at Azma University, determined to learn all there is about the study and practice of galder and perhaps indeed the deeper secrets that only the great masters know—all the better to become both loved and indispensable to the state.
As the younger sibling of a line with many children, she does not expect to ever inherit and nor does she ever want to, she is entirely content with her career as a tourney knight and the life she's lead in the King's Seat thus far. Indeed Dean has long been utterly convinced that she'd make an awful Lady Paramount, she is convinced utterly that all those like her that revel in the spectacle, the fervor of battle and tourney alike are utterly unsuitable for such position.
Name: Dean Champion
Age: 19
Height: 5'9
Appearance: Dean has long deep auburn hair, typically braided for both practicalities sake and fashion, with strands often escaping to frame her face. Her skin is fair as if she'd somehow escaped the sun of both her home and the tourney. Her hazel eyes are bright and framed by dark eyelashes. Dean's build is athletic and commanding, showing off the results of rigorous training and combat practice, yet she carries herself with a grace that befits her status as a renowned Lady-Knight. Her entire demeanor projects a sort of graceful confidence, like that you'd expect of a Prince of ages past.
(she/her) solo-route
Tropes: The Lady and Knight, Knight in Sour Armour
-
Fran has long understood that she commands little respect at court—indeed, as a bastard, she finds herself dismissed even within her own family. Yet there is one, a young Lord who is but a child, who gave her legitimacy, who looks up to her, and has earned her unwavering loyalty. Her beloved little brother.
It is for him that she accepted the king's invitation to the King's Seat, to train in the King's Army. She wants to be his eyes, his ears, and his sword.
True loyalty is a rare commodity among the highborn, for what do they owe anyone but themselves and their own appetites?
She is content to endure their scorn and wear the title "Loyal Hound" with pride. After all, what insult lies therein? A good hound is strong, lethal, obedient, loved, loyal, and free to roam so long as it always returns. And return to him she will.
Name: Fran Radwell-Cadderly
Age: 18
Height: 5'7
Appearance: Fran's dirty-blonde hair is cut short, falling just above her shoulders—a length chosen for practicality rather than fashion. Her complexion is fair, lightly sun-kissed from time spent outdoors, with a few sun-spots across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes are a dull blue-green, carrying an intensity that contrasts with her otherwise unassuming features. Her build is lean and wiry, reflecting a life of rigorous training, with a strength that belies her slender frame. Though she dresses simply, her presence is commanding, a blend of quiet confidence and restrained power and it makes her feel much bigger than the 5'7 she stands at.
(she/her) solo-route
Tropes: Guard Dog, Loyal Companion, Golden Retriever
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Additional
Dashingdon Demo: out now!
Cogdemos Demo: out now!
Pinterest: not yet available
Art: not yet available
Feedback Survey: not yet available
All Asks and Reposts are appreciated, work will be slow but steady and a demo should be ready shortly!
ask me lore questions please, I have far too many notes on this.
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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months ago
Text
don't want to move on
for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompt 'make-up sex'
rated e | 18+, minors dni | 3165 words | read all tags on ao3
❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹
If Steve knows one thing, it’s that Eddie knows how to get under his skin and in his bed.
Ever since their breakup, a disaster of epic proportions for the entire friend group, Steve’s kept his distance from every possible interaction with Eddie. He’s made sure to find reasons to miss group outings and put himself on the schedule at work on the nights when he knew Eddie would be at movie nights or dinner. He purposely scheduled pool parties for days and times he knew Eddie would be busy.
But he couldn’t get out of this one.
And now he has Eddie’s eyes on him from across the room, staring into his soul, reading his mind probably.
It makes him want to hide. Or take his pants off.
He hasn’t quite decided yet.
“Are you gonna glare at him all night or go talk to him?” Jonathan asks from behind him.
Steve turns, feels ridiculous that he’s been caught, and crosses his arms across his chest defiantly.
“I’m gonna ignore him until he leaves and then excuse myself so I can sulk in peace,” Steve admits.
Robin was his platonic soulmate, but Jonathan has become a sort of unexpected best friend. He was there the morning after the breakup, barely holding Steve together with spoonfuls of peanut butter and reassuring words that didn’t stick quite as hard as the peanut butter. They got even closer after that, and hardly a day passed where Jonathan wasn’t texting Steve or showing up at his apartment with take out and stories from whatever modeling shoot he was working on.
“And you think he’s gonna let that happen?”
“If he knows what’s good for him.”
Jonathan snorts. “Okay. On that note, I’m gonna go check on Nancy. She got into the weed earlier and she’s probably at the stage where the walls are squiggly and she can feel her lungs touching her ribs.”
Steve’s eyes widen and he nods. He knows what she’s like at that point. Jonathan needs to get her home before everyone knows what she’s like at that point.
The moment Jonathan is gone, Eddie is walking towards him.
Steve’s never felt more like prey in his life, never seen Eddie strut like this. He’s frozen. He forgets how to breathe.
“Didn’t know you’d be here,” are the first words Eddie says to him in six months.
No hello. No awkward exchange of pleasantries.
Just a mild accusation and a piercing look.
“I wouldn’t be if I’d known you’d be here,” he retorts, deciding to match his energy. If Eddie is allowed to be at this party of a mutual friend’s mutual friend, then Steve is too. “Didn’t even know Ivy had your number.”
Ivy was one of Nancy’s friends from school, and Steve had been invited to quite a few of her parties over the last few years. When they were together, Steve always brought Eddie, but he didn’t know if Ivy and Eddie had ever even met.
“I know Ivy pretty well, actually,” Eddie says in a way that makes Steve pause.
What the fuck does that mean?
“So you’re…friends?” Steve asks even though he thinks he knows where this is going and he thinks he’s gonna be sick if he’s right.
“Yeah.” Eddie smirks. “Friends.”
“Oh.”
Steve has to abort whatever mission he thought he was on. This is gonna end with him crying in front of Eddie and everyone else at this stupid party that he came to because he’d had a rough week and just wanted to have a drink with friends and-
“Are you gonna be sick?” Eddie asks, reaching out to him as if that would even help.
“No!” Steve backs away. “I just need to head out. Got an early morning.”
“On a Sunday? You don’t work Sundays.”
“And how would you know?”
Steve needs to leave. He can’t engage in anything else with Eddie. He won’t recover.
“Because you wouldn’t have come at all if you had work in the morning. And everyone you would hang out with is here.” Eddie steps closer to him. “Unless something’s changed?”
Steve shakes his head. “I’m not sure I owe you an explanation of my schedule.”
Eddie seems to realize that Steve’s right, taking a step back.
“Right. That’s true. I guess.”
And suddenly Steve can see how uncomfortable Eddie is, how much courage and energy it took him just to walk up to Steve at all. He’s always been pretty easy to read, at least for Steve, but right now it’s like he’s made of glass.
“How you been?” Steve asks, ignoring the pull he feels to the door for the pull he feels to Eddie.
“Um, good. Yeah, great. Fantastic. You?”
Steve raises a brow at the response. Eddie’s never been fantastic a day in his life.
Except maybe that one time he ate Steve out on a patio chair by the pool and then fucked him in his parent’s hot tub and claimed that he’d never been happier in his entire life.
“I’ve been fine.”
Not a lie. He has been fine most of the time. Fine isn’t anything special, or anything good.
“You look…good.” Eddie settles on, as if he was going to say something else entirely. “Still going to the gym?”
“Not as often as I should,” Steve admits. He’s about to call this quits when he sees Jonathan giving him a thumbs up from the doorway. “Uh. I should actually probably head out though.”
“Right. Yeah. Sure. Want me to let Ivy know you had to go?”
Steve shouldn’t fucking push. He knows he’s gonna end up hurt worse if he gets any form of confirmation on what he thinks is going on.
“I’ll just text her. But I guess if you see her before you go…”
“I mean, yeah, I’m kinda…living here right now?” Eddie rubs his hand along the back of his neck.
Steve thinks he might pass out.
He’s living with a woman not even six full months after he broke up with Steve because Steve wanted to take the next step and move in together?
He feels like he’s going crazy.
“With Ivy?” Steve can barely hear his own voice, doesn’t even know if Eddie hears him until he responds.
“I couldn’t renew my lease so she offered to let me stay here for a few months while I looked for something else,” he explains, as if that clears anything up. As if that helps the jealous fire in Steve’s heart calm. “That’s the only reason I’m even here tonight. I was off and she needed an extra pair of eyes to make sure no one tried to drive home after drinking.”
“Well, I haven’t even been drinking.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“You think I’ve looked anywhere other than you since you walked in the door?”
Steve feels like his entire body is lifting above the floor, and he’s reminded that Eddie’s good at this. Flirting like he means it, using words but not wanting more than that.
That he may have feelings for Steve, but god forbid those feelings lead anywhere other than a bed or a date.
“Doesn’t seem appropriate to stare at me all night with your girlfriend in the next room.”
“Girlfriend? What? I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Eddie seems genuinely confused, his brows furrowing as he looks around the room and back at Steve.
“Isn’t Ivy your girlfriend?”
“Ivy?! Ivy Jane? The woman who told me on day one of me living here that if she even so much as accidentally saw my dick she’d cut it off?” Eddie laughs, unamused. “She’s a friend at most. More of a useful annoyance.”
Steve is confused. Why did Eddie make it seem like there was more to it than that? Why couldn’t Eddie renew his lease? Why didn’t anyone tell him about any of this?
“Look, you probably shouldn’t head home on your own. I know you didn’t drink, but it’s still pretty late, and I know you walked here.” Eddie sighs. “Can I at least get you an Uber?”
“To go less than a mile?”
“Or I could walk you.”
“And then walk back alone?”
“You don’t have to argue with everything, you know,” Eddie grumbles. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe.”
“I didn’t know ex-boyfriends cared that much.”
It’s a low blow and Eddie’s physical withdrawal is immediate. Steve instantly feels bad.
No matter what happened between them, he knows Eddie. He knows he’s trying to be nice and all Steve’s doing is making that task more difficult.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve sighs. “I’m just surprised that you’d care this much when we haven’t even talked in months.”
“Steve, I’ll always care about you.”
It’s a knife to his chest.
Because that’s not even remotely close to what Eddie had said to him months ago when he was throwing his shit in a bag and running as fast as he could. It’s not how he made Steve feel when he told him they were done.
”I’m not gonna keep pretending this can end well for either of us.”
He’d made it pretty obvious he had no intention of loving Steve beyond the year they spent together, and Steve had no choice but to assume he’d been faking feelings for him to try to get over him.
Steve doesn’t realize he’s let tears fall until Eddie’s thumbs are brushing them away, his touch so soft it makes Steve want to sob.
Before he can say anything or push Eddie away, Eddie’s hand is on his lower back, guiding him down the hallway of the apartment.
He doesn’t fight it, even though alarm bells are ringing in his head telling him to pause and go home, maybe try to talk to Eddie when he’s calmed down from the shock of seeing him. The warmth of Eddie next to him is enough to silence any fears he has.
He’s sitting on Eddie’s bed. The room is surprisingly plain for a room that belongs to Eddie, but the sheets on the bed are scattered and one pillow looks more like a ball, so he knows it’s his. Eddie sleeps the same way he talks: constantly moving, shuffling around, trying to find comfort in touch.
“I’ll take the couch once everyone leaves. You probably shouldn’t be alone right now,” Eddie says from in front of him, keeping his hands to himself.
He probably shouldn’t, but if Eddie’s on the couch, doesn’t that leave him alone anyway?
“You can come get me if you need anything,” Eddie explains further. “And I can come check on you.”
“Right,” Steve’s voice is shaky. “But you could stay?”
Eddie’s eyes are scanning his face, always trying to see what Steve isn’t saying. He’s always been good about reading Steve.
“Is that what you want?” Eddie eventually asks.
Steve nods because he can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound like he’s desperate for more of Eddie’s touch.
He lays down and waits for Eddie to join him, but he’s not sure what he’s hoping for anymore. The best thing to do would be to tell Eddie he changed his mind and send him to the couch, the second best would probably be to go home. But what ends up happening is Eddie locks the bedroom door and slips his shoes off, strips his jeans down his legs, and slides into bed with him.
He doesn’t touch him at first, though the bed isn’t quite big enough for them to not accidentally brush arms as they find comfortable positions.
Steve lets his eyes close, even though he’s never felt more awake, even though he feels every breath Eddie takes as if it’s his own.
“I love you.”
Steve’s eyes shoot open at Eddie’s whispered confession.
They were together for a year and Eddie never said it. Steve didn’t even say it for fear of Eddie running. And when he finally did say it, when he had the nerve to ask him to move in with him, Eddie ran.
So, he couldn’t have possibly heard what he thought he just heard.
“I know it’s too late. I should’ve told you six months ago.” Eddie scoffed at his own words. “Actually, I should’ve told you when I realized it on our third date. There’s no excuse. You told me why you were hesitant to tell people how you felt and I should’ve known it would be harder for you than it would be for me.”
Steve turns on his side, eyes wide as he takes in the way Eddie’s eyes are slowly blinking up at the ceiling, fingers tapping anxiously against his own stomach.
“Why did you leave, then? If you loved me, why did you let me think you didn’t?”
Steve’s impressed with his sudden ability not to cry when he’d so easily let tears fall earlier.
Eddie turns his head. His fingers still. The room is silent, but Steve can feel the vibrations of the music playing down the hall.
“I don’t know.”
It’s anticlimactic, and not good enough, but Steve believes him. He believes that Eddie truly doesn’t know his own thought process behind walking away from what could’ve been a good future for them.
“Why say it now?”
“Because I needed you to leave here in the morning knowing that what you were asking for wasn’t unreasonable. I needed you to know that your feelings were fine, and that nothing you did pushed me away. You deserve the chance to move on properly.”
Steve can feel his heart in every nerve ending of his body, pulsing to a wild beat, a dangerous tempo that he isn’t sure he wants to control. Eddie always made him feel like this, like he was one step away from jumping off a ledge, like he was flying through the air without a parachute.
“I don’t want to move on.”
Steve crushes his lips to Eddie’s, letting out a pained groan that’s muffled by Eddie’s lips pushing against his own. It’s not soft, not even gross the way their kisses got when they’d been sweaty and pushing each other to their limits for hours.
It was forgiveness and yearning and need wrapped into a single point of contact.
But once Eddie’s hands found Steve’s hips, all he wanted was to feel Eddie everywhere.
“Missed you,” he admits breathlessly.
“Missed you, too, Stevie. So much,” Eddie gasps against his mouth.
It doesn’t take long for them to strip out of their clothes, for Eddie’s mouth to find all of Steve’s sensitive spots, for bruises to be left in places that will be hard to cover up tomorrow. They’re both panting, trying to hide moans against the pillows and sweaty skin.
Steve laughs when Eddie’s lips trail down to the head of his leaking cock.
Eddie looks up, frowning as if he’s disappointed that he was interrupted.
“What could you possibly be laughing at?”
“How easy it was to get me in your bed. Did you know I was coming tonight?” He does his best not to sound accusatory, but a small part of him worries that Eddie’s plan all night has been to get him naked. It wouldn’t be the first time those were his intentions.
“I had no idea you’d be here,” Eddie nips at his thigh. “But if I did, I would’ve planned this exact outcome, yeah.”
Steve slaps at his shoulder but moans when Eddie’s lips wrap around the head of his cock, tongue lapping up the precum that had been gathering for a while.
They get lost in it, in being able to touch each other, in finally having what they’d both missed for so long. Steve’s hands hardly ever leave Eddie’s hair and Eddie’s tongue is like a magnet to every inch of his skin.
He kisses down his length, he sucks bruises into his thighs, he sucks his cock until Steve’s trembling under him, saying his name over and over. Begging, praying, he didn’t even know anymore.
Steve doesn’t even realize he’s close until Eddie’s asking if he wants to finish like this or with Eddie inside him.
“Want you inside, but I don’t know if I can last that long,” Steve pouts. Now that he feels the coil in his belly and the flush of his chest and neck, he knows there’s no way he’ll make it through Eddie stretching him. He’s half-tempted to just have Eddie fuck him with no prep, but Eddie will never go for it. “C’mere?”
Eddie kisses his way up Steve’s body, biting a nipple and licking sweat from his collarbone before settling perfectly between his legs. He’s smiling down at Steve like he could stay there all night, like he didn’t just get interrupted in the middle of one of the best blowjobs of Steve’s life.
“Can we just…” Steve tilts his hips up so his cock rubs against Eddie’s. Both of them groan as Eddie hangs his head. “Like this?”
Eddie nods before resting his forehead against Steve’s and letting out a breath.
“I’m not gonna last long,” he whispers, like it’s a secret that he’s been getting off making Steve feel good.
“Me either. ‘S okay.”
Their cocks brush together as Eddie leans down on his elbows. Steve lifts his legs up to wrap around Eddie’s waist, pulling him down so there’s a constant friction between them.
“Fuck, I love you.”
“I love you,” Steve’s breath catches on his words.
Eddie’s hips move faster, and Steve does his best to meet every thrust. They’re in sync as if they were never apart, and Steve thinks this is all he needs for the rest of his life.
He knew that before, when they were together, and after Eddie left. But feeling it now, with Eddie above him, surrounding him, practically sharing his breaths, he knows Eddie’s it for him.
That thought is what sends him over the edge.
He cups Eddie’s cheek in his hand and pulls him into a searing kiss, one that’s more tongue and teeth than lips, more passion than finesse.
But it sends Eddie over the edge, too.
After, when they’ve stopped shaking and Eddie used his t-shirt to wipe up their mess, Steve taps his fingers against Eddie’s chest in a familiar pattern.
“Since when do you know the beat to a Metallica song?” Eddie asks, smirking down at him.
“It’s what you always used to tap on my arm when we were falling asleep. I didn’t know it was Metallica,” Steve yawns as he speaks, exhaustion seeping through every pore of his body.
“You remembered that?”
“Mhm. Remember everything.” He yawns again and lets his eyes close.
He’s pretty sure Eddie starts tapping a new pattern on his arm as he drifts to sleep. He doesn’t recognize it, but he’ll have plenty of time to learn this one, and the next one, and whatever else the future brings for them.
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writingfics-passingtime · 3 months ago
Text
Desperate Measures
Pairing: Loki x female reader
Word count: 5703
Content / warnings: swearing, a lot of sexual tension, steamy kissing, suggestive humour, tickle fic, implied sex
minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a romantic and intimate storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.
note: hello! I've come out of the woodwork to drop this random fic, thinking some of you may enjoy some wild sexual tension, teasing, and ruthless ler!loki I felt randomly compelled to write. I can't make any good-faith promises regarding future writing, so I'll just share this for now. All the love <3
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The air in the gym was still and heavy, the only sound breaking the silence was the steady rhythm of your fists connecting with the punching bag. You were alone, intentionally so, using the late hour to work through a restless energy that had been gnawing at you for days.
Well, months, really.
There had been something about the Compound lately, something about him that made it hard to focus, hard to sleep.
The leather of the bag thudded under your punches, each strike sharp and measured as you practiced your form. But as effective as the session was at releasing some pent-up tension, you couldn’t ignore the nagging realisation that it wasn’t quite enough. And you didn't know what would be.
Then you heard him - felt him, really, before he spoke. Loki’s presence always announced itself in a subtle way. A shift in the air, a sense of something electric.
The low, velvety voice followed, as if materialising from the shadows. “This hardly seems like a fair fight.”
You froze for the briefest second, your fist still mid-air, before lowering your arm and turning to face him. There he stood, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed casually over his chest. He looked entirely too composed for someone who had just caught you off guard, but that was Loki’s way. His dark hair framed his sharp features, and his eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief. “Rather a waste of energy, fighting something that won’t hit back.” A pause, an assessment, a tilt of his head in challenge. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Your pulse quickens, though you’d never let it show. With Loki, you’d learned to keep your guard up. His constant presence, the lingering stares, the flirtatious banter - you still couldn't tell if it was all fun and games to him, or... if he actually...
“I’m practicing my form,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady despite the warmth that was starting to spread up your neck.
He smirked, tilting his head as he regarded you with a dark glint in his eye. “If it’s form you’re after, perhaps a real opponent would better suit your needs. I’d be happy to assist.” The words hung in the air between you, their weight heavy with invitation.
You hesitated, your heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason. Sparring with Loki? Not smart. The man - the god - was unpredictable, dangerous. You weren’t an idiot; in the field, you’d leave threats like Loki to the bigger guns like Steve, or Thor. But here, in the controlled environment of the gym, with no weapons and only the hum of underlying tension between you two, it felt different.
Risky in a way that had nothing to do with physical harm.
Still, you felt a thrill shoot through you at the thought. Something about his attention always made you feel alive, a little reckless.
You wiped the sweat from your brow and tilted your head. “Not sure this is a smart idea, Loki. I usually leave the big threats to the super soldiers and gods.”
His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “You’ll do just fine.” His tone was smooth, almost coaxing, as if you’d already agreed.
You rolled your eyes, turning toward the mats, feeling his presence at your back as he followed you. You were trying your best to seem unaffected, but his proximity set your skin alight.
Every step toward the sunken sparring area in the centre of the gym felt like a countdown. When you stepped down the couple of stairs onto the mats, you turned to face him, only to find him much closer than you expected. His height, the way he loomed just slightly, was intoxicating. He was so unfairly beautiful. And he knew it.
You gave him a look, a mix of challenge and uncertainty, trying to hide how affected you were. But Loki noticed everything. His eyes flicked briefly to your lips before settling back on your gaze.
“So what now?” you asked, your voice coming out a bit more breathless than you intended.
“Now,” Loki began, circling you slowly, his movements graceful, predatory, “we see what you’re truly made of.”
You squared your shoulders, keeping your stance neutral, trying to maintain your focus. But the energy between you felt charged, almost too much to ignore. Loki was testing you, as he always did - pushing buttons, seeing how far he could go before your unaffected facade slipped. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing how much he got under your skin. But, deep down, you knew that you weren't fooling him.
After one revolution around your body, he stopped in front of you, that smirk still playing on his lips. You didn’t wait for him to make the first move. You lunged forward, aiming a strike toward his midsection, but he dodged it easily, too fast, too graceful. He didn’t retaliate. Not yet. He was baiting you, letting you come to him. Typical.
Your next punch was aimed higher, toward his chest, but he caught your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm, but not painful, his skin cool against yours. He raised an eyebrow, almost amused.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he murmured.
You twisted out of his hold, stepping back to reassess. Your heart was racing, not just from the sparring, but from the feel of him, his hand, his eyes locked on yours like a predator toying with its prey. There was something dangerous in the way he moved, something inherently sensual in the way his body seemed to flow, effortless yet lethal.
You tried again, going low this time, aiming a sweeping kick toward his legs. He sidestepped, but not fast enough. You caught him just enough to throw him slightly off balance, and his smile widened. You could've sworn a gleam of admiration flickered in his eyes.
“Not bad,” he said, before moving on you.
Suddenly, he was in your pocket, faster than you anticipated, and before you could block, he had you pinned. One arm locked around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the other catching your wrist, holding it firmly above your head. He hooked one leg around yours and controlled the descent of your bodies. Your back hit the mats with a soft thud, him directly above you, and you gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. Not fully from the impact, more from the overwhelming sensation of his body pressing against yours.
For a moment, everything stilled. You were trapped beneath him, and he was so close, his breath warm against your neck, his body hovering over yours, just a breath away from full contact. The weight of him, the way he held you so effortlessly, sent a rush of heat through you.
Loki’s eyes bored into yours, dark and intense, and there was no mistaking the shift in the air. The playfulness was still there, but underneath it was something deeper, something charged with heat and anticipation.
“Still think this was a bad idea?” His voice was a low purr, his lips dangerously close.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it in lazy circles, a deliberate tease. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped beneath his touch, trying not to wonder if he could hear it. Feel it.
He lowered his brow, “You clearly haven’t been trained by anyone outside of Midgard.”
His words pricked at your pride, and you glared up at him, breathless, as you tried to wrench your wrist free. “Of course not,” you retorted, a bit sharper than you’d intended. “Not all of us have had the privilege of an intergalactic education.”
His expression softened for just a heartbeat, a glimmer of something that might've almost be concern, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a look of pragmatism. “That won’t do,” he said simply, releasing you, pulling you to your feet with an ease of strength that made your heart stutter.
“There are… larger threats than you’ve known. You need to understand how they fight.” His voice dropped to a low rumble. "Or you won't stand a chance."
You swallowed thickly, the implication heavy between you, and found yourself unable to look away, captivated by the intensity in his eyes, the subtle promise that lingered just beneath his calm disposition.
In his own strange way, he was offering to train you.
In that moment, it felt like the tension, the unspoken attraction that had been building between you over the months, was ready to snap. The rational part of you is screaming that this was dangerous, that whatever this was, it was a risk you shouldn’t take; putting yourself in the situation to be in constant close quarters with someone who already set you on a steep edge could only end in a heart-wrenching longing.
But as you met Loki’s gaze, defiance and something far more potent flared within you, and you couldn't deny the pull.
“Show me, then,” you whispered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded furiously in your chest.
He smirked, a dark satisfaction flickering across his face as he stepped closer still. “Very well,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. ��But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
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The gym was empty, as it usually was this time of night, save for the low hum of your breathing and the solid thud of your body against the mats, the result of another frustrating sparring session with Loki.
It had been weeks of this. A rhythm that’d somehow become normal, sparring sessions where you were pushed to your limits and left feeling exhausted but invigorated.
Loki’s method of training was relentless, unforgiving, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The techniques he taught you - sharp, brutal movements, counters that defy human logic - had already sharpened your skills in ways you couldn’t have imagined.
He was maddening and insufferable, with his mocking commentary and easy confidence, but he had made you better.
You would flush to admit how much you looked forward to the few sessions each week. Because though you had trained with all kinds of opponents, none of them compared to the dark, infuriating figure currently pinning you to the ground.
He loomed above you, his body pressed just enough against yours to keep you in place, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin making the friction of his hold electric. You were breathless, chest rising and falling as you stared up at him, face inches from his as he flashed that knowing grin.
Unfortunately, this had become a very normal position to find yourself in. Loki never let you win, and never let you up without an admission of defeat, saying allowing such things would only breed complacence.
“Ready to surrender, darling?” His voice was dark silk, the smugness woven through every syllable. His eyes traveled over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips as you caught your breath. “Again? What are we, zero-and-thirty?”
The mix of arrogance and barely-contained amusement in his expression made your irritation bubble over.
"Go to hell."
"Charming," he replied, arching a brow. "By all means, keep on with your futile attempts to escape," he shrugged with indifference, further stoking your frustration. "I do so enjoy this part."
Your jaw ticked. You were tired, flustered, not any more used to his proximity even after weeks of this. You thought you'd be desensitised to his flirting, his touch... him, but, if anything, it was all pulling you closer to the edge of desperation.
And desperate times call for desperate measures.
At least, that's what you told yourself. In reality, you weren't thinking. You couldn't have been thinking, given that no one in your position would've considered such a foolish move.
In a final, desperate move, a slapdash attempt to get him off of you without having to surrender, your fingers darted to his sides, pressing into his ribs in a way that might, with any luck, give him a taste of his own teasing medicine.
But the instant your fingers touched him, and he merely flinched once, you knew you'd made a careless mistake, and a devastating one at that.
This was something you could never take back.
He stilled, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips. His gaze slowly shifted down to where your hands rested on his torso, and when he looked back up, the mischievous gleam in his eyes turned predatory.
“Oh?" His voice dropping to a dangerously low, delicious murmur, “You’ve just made an exceptionally poor choice.”
Your stomach dropped, and a tsunami of regret hitting you instantly. “Wait. Loki, I didn’t-”
“You want to play, hmm?” His smirk only widened as he leaned in, his grip tightening. “How delightful. Do carry on.”
“Please, I'm sorry,” you gasped, trying to push at his chest, already breathless. “I wasn't thinking- Loki, please!” You could feel your cheeks growing warm, laughter bubbling up as he held you firm. "I'm sorry!"
“Shh,” he crooned, his smirk deepening. “No need to waste your precious breath.”
"Oh no, please, not this," you laughed despite your wincing, pushing harder at his shoulders. It did nothing.
“Begging already?” His fingers found your sides, pinning them as his thumbs pressed firmly into the sensitive skin above your hips. “You might regret that even more, darling.”
Before you could protest, his fingers began to move, an unrelenting, devastating rhythm that sent a jolt of sensation through your body. Your attempts to fight it crumbled instantly as laughter spilled from your lips, your hands still trying, and failing, to push his away.
“Loki! N-no-” you gasped between giggles, squirming beneath him as his fingers worked with merciless precision. He watched you with keen fascination, clearly enjoying the effects of his touch on you far too much. His thumbs traced slow, calculated circles against your ribs, each movement skilled and targeted, attuning his touch at a terrifying speed. Learning how to deliver a masterful torture, designed just for you.
“Oh, I think yes,” he replied, his voice a teasing purr. “And to think, all it takes to make you crumble is a little tickling. How... adorably human.” His words were as wicked as his touch, his fingers finding every sensitive spot along your ribs, raking over your skin with a tormenting ease.
Your laughter only grew, helpless and unbidden, your body writhing beneath him as you tried to twist away from his relentless fingers. But the press of his body against yours, the heat of his breath, and the smirk on his lips were driving you to the edge in more ways than one.
“You know,” he continued, one hand slipping higher along your ribs, while the other skated down your side in search of a new vulnerable spot, “you really should have thought this through.” He watched as you struggled to speak, your protests dissolving into helpless laughter as pinched the soft spot above your hip in a steady rhythm. “But I suppose thinking things through isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it?”
Another fit of giggles burst from you, the words “Shut up- Loki, I swear-” managing to slip through the laughter before his searching hand found an especially sensitive spot just above your knee. Your leg jerked, and you could barely contain the yelp that escaped you.
“Oh, now that's a good spot, isn't it?” he mused, his smirk widening as he kept his fingers there, watching with satisfaction as you writhed in his grip. His thumb and middle finger cratered into your skin, moving in small, unrelenting circles against the muscle, each pass drawing a louder, more desperate laugh from you.
Every time your laughter began to steady, Loki would adjust, finding fresh angles to torment that same spot, leaving you gasping and breathless, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. The sound of his satisfied chuckle only made the entire ordeal more maddening, his smirk widening with every helpless laugh he drew from you.
The muscles of your core ached, already weakened from the near hour of sparring you'd endured before this ordeal, and your desperation mounted as you realised just how completely you were at his mercy.
“Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice mockingly sympathetic. “All those threats you make, all those fighting words... yet-"
The door to the gym opened suddenly, and two figures stepped inside. Loki didn’t miss a beat, glancing up to find Steve and Bucky standing there, their faces caught between surprise and amusement at the scene before them. Loki merely grinned, unperturbed, as though they were expected guests.
“Ah, gentlemen, so kind of you to join us.” His fingers didn't stop, not even for a moment. Your breath hitched between laughs. “She’s been begging for mercy. Tell me, don’t you train your people to withstand a bit of torture?”
“Steve!” you gasped, trying and failing to sit up as Loki’s fingers dug into your ribs with a terrifying precision. The hand at your knee gave a quick pulse and you shrieked, giving a violent kick of your leg that somehow dislodged his hand. “Bucky- help!”
The two men exchanged a look, an unmistakable smirk crossing their faces as they watched you squirm beneath Loki’s touch, now at both of your sides.
Steve folded his arms, tilting his head as if considering your plea. “Seems like you've bitten off more than you can chew,” he said, lips quirking up in amusement.
“You're gonna have to get yourself out of this one,” Bucky added with smirk.
"Please!" You squeaked when Loki wrapped his hands around your hips once more, squeezing and pressing as you plead through helpless giggles. "I-I'll do anything- just- j-just help me, please!"
“Anything?” Loki murmurs, his voice low and smooth as he leans down, stilling his hands just long enough for you to catch your breath. “My, my, this sounds like quite the liability. Is this all it takes to break you?” His fingers latched onto both of your knees with renewed vigour, eliciting a shriek and then a fresh burst of laughter.
You were too far gone to respond, tears gathering in your eyes as you twisted under his touch, utterly powerless to escape. His words, his steady, relentless taunts, were maddening, each one sinking in deeper as his fingers found every vulnerable place that left you laughing helplessly beneath him.
Your cheeks burned as you tried to wriggle away from his fingers, laughter turning desperate as his hands traced the sensitive muscles along your thighs. “L-Loki, please—”
Loki casted a glance at Steve and Bucky, his voice dropping to a lower, more mocking tone. “Her training is sorely lacking. She's reckless, susceptible…" he looked back down to you with a sly grin, "and seems to lack any sense of risk analysis. Taking me on, indeed.”
You were incredulous - as much as you could be in your position - and you tried to protest, tried to tell them that it was Loki’s idea to spar in the first place, but the words won’t come. Loki’s hands had you too helpless, laughter spilling from your lips as he smirked down at you with an expression of pure satisfaction.
Bucky shrugged, grinning as he watched your futile struggle. “Maybe we need to work on conditioning that out of her.”
“Oh, no,” Loki interjected smoothly, slipping his hands to the juncture of your hips and thighs, sending you arching off the mat, squeals of laughter tearing from your throat. "I rather like her this way."
Desperation drove you to try to reach for Steve or Bucky, your arm outstretched in a silent plea for mercy.
You should have learned your lesson about desperate moves.
Loki saw the opportunity in your attempt, and with a smooth, precise move, he twisted you onto your stomach, pinning your outstretched wrist to the mat as he settled over you, his other hand slipping to your lower ribs to press into a spot he'd already memorised, one that made you shriek.
“Really, darling,” he whispered darkly, his voice rich with satisfaction, “your judgment is appallingly poor, isn’t it?” His fingers glided higher, hitting a spot on your upper ribs that made your laughter turn silent, breath hitching as you struggled under him.
“You handed me this opening,” he tutted, his taunting words making you burn hotter. “What happens next is your fault.” His fingers found the sensitive spot beneath your arm, drawing out a fresh wave of laughter as your body arched, your feet scrabbling for traction as you slapped your free hand against the mat.
Hard laughter barrelled out of you, your head falling to the mat as you squeezed your eyes shut, succumbing to the sensations he was pulling from your nerves.
Surrender washed over you, cool and easy, as you felt your muscles go limp beneath him, nothing in your mind but the feeling of his body, his hands, the force of your laughter, and the pure, unadulterated fun he was having with you. And it was fun, you realised. In a way that people like you usually didn't indulge in.
Bucky tapped Steve on the arm and jerked his chin towards the door behind them. "Seem like you have this under control," he smirked at you. You looked up to glare but only caught their knowing glance, the one of friends and not of Avengers. The one that said, we know exactly what's going on here.
It made you flush almost as much as the unrelenting torture.
Almost as soon as they left you, Loki's tickling hand pulled away. You gulped greedy breaths in as he turned your sagging body with ease, settling you on your back as he hovered over you, eyes roaming the product of his work.
"I trust you've learned your lesson." His voice was a low rumble that sent heat pooling to your belly. All you could do was nod. "Next time you dare to pull a stunt like that," he started, leaning in so close you could feel his breath fanning your lips, "I won't be so gentle."
Heat bloomed over your cheeks, to the tips of your ears, the space between you charged, crackling with an intensity that sends a thrill through you.
You couldn't look away, your breath catching as his gaze lingered on your lips.
His own parted, as though he was on the verge of closing the distance...
He flinched.
Pulled back. Pulled away.
Your brow lowered in concern, but before you could ask what was wrong, he stood.
"Until next time."
He looked down at you, his eyes lingering with a promise that made your pulse pound, before he turned and strode out of the gym, leaving you sprawled on the mat, breathless, wanting, and hopelessly, maddeningly confused.
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It was late that same night when you finally worked up the nerve to confront him.
You moved through the silent halls of the Compound, each step echoing in the darkened corridors as you slipped past the shadows pooling in doorways. Uncertainty crept up your spine, and you almost turned back more than once, only to grit your teeth and push forward. There were too many things left unsaid, too much tension thickening the air between you and Loki, and it gnawed at you now, refusing to let you retreat.
Before you could decide on a way to begin, his door opened. He stood there, almost as if he’d sensed you coming, his expression a mix of curiosity and that ever-present amusement.
“It's rather late for a visit,” he said, his tone low, his words quiet and full of question.
You met his gaze. “Couldn't sleep,” you replied, massaging the back of your neck with one hand.
His lips twitched with something darker, though his tone remained light. “And you thought I could help?”
Silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you wondered if this was a mistake.
"I thought you might be able to, considering it's your fault."
His face softened at the strain in your tone, and he stepped aside in a silent invitation for you to enter.
Swallowing hard, you stepped forward, pressing past him and into his room. He shut the door behind you, and the world seemed to fall away, the dimness settling around you, cocooning you both in a place of shadow and warmth.
"Go on then," Loki urged as you two stood near the lounge set in his room. A couple of armchairs and a matching couch, cast in the soft glow of several lamps and a dying fire in the hearth.
You drew a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak. “I know what you are, Loki,” you began, feeling your voice tremble with both fear and resolve. “Mischief is part of your very nature, and I don't mind fun and games like- like earlier," you flushed thinking about it, catching the smirk forming on his features as he watched you fumble.
You gathered your courage and stared him straight-on. "But not with my feelings. All this- this flirting, and touching, and closeness... it's not a game to me. So if it doesn't mean anything to you, I'd rather it stop."
Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, the smugness vanishing, replaced by something harder, sharper. He let the words hang between you, a silence stretching before he repeated them in a voice almost too soft to hear. “If it doesn't mean anything to me,” he murmured, a subtle, dangerous edge to his tone. "You think this- that you are simply a game? Another amusement of no consequence?"
You swallowed, willing yourself to continue. “Today…” Your voice broke slightly, and you pushed the words out. “In the gym, we were so close. I thought...” Heat flooded your cheeks, but you forced yourself on, the confession slipping free. “For the dozenth time, I thought you were finally going to kiss me. But I just left wondering if I'm a fool with some silly schoolgirl crush, way in over my head." The admission left you raw and breathless, your heart pounding.
He exhaled, the smallest hint of a rueful smile ghosting over his lips. "You were trapped beneath me. Pinned, helpless,” he said, as though it explained everything. “I could never take that liberty with you while you were at my mercy.” His gaze grew darker still, something haunted flickering in his eyes. “I’d never forgive myself if I gave in to such an impulse. I'd never stop wondering if you had truly wanted it."
"But I did want-"
"And what if you hadn't?"
His words were a balm and a brand, his unwavering gaze rooting you to the spot.
"I had to know it was real. Not something forced or coerced, something... taken from you when you were too breathless to say no. I had to know for sure that it was what you desired."
For a moment, you struggled to find your voice, the weight of his reverence filling the space between you.
“It is,” you managed, each word trembling with the strength of your resolve. “I want this. I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try. I don’t want to ignore it anymore.” You swallowed, breathless.
A beat passed, and something changed in his face - a tension releasing, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t expected.
Slowly, he extended his hand, his fingers unfurling in a silent invitation.
You slipped you palm into his, letting him pull you toward him, his touch both a promise and a tether.
He guided you closer, his hands sliding down your arms, tracing the lines of your shoulders, until they rested firmly on your waist. Then, with a gentle insistence, he drew you toward an armchair, lowering himself into it and coaxing you down to settle over his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs.
His hand rose, tilting your chin so that you were forced to look into his eyes. They held an intensity that bordered on unrelenting, darkened by desire and the hint of something raw, something that took your breath away. He watched you intently, his expression filled with something just shy of reverence. His thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him as his fingers trailed along your neck, igniting every nerve.
You shivered as he leaned in, so close that his breath fanned across your lips. His touch was calm and certain, his gaze flicking over you as if committing every part of you to memory.
“I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, voice low and heated. “For you.”
The weight of his words pressed against the heavy silence between you, and before you could answer, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and consuming.
He guided you with a gentle but undeniable command, his mouth pressing deeper, each kiss drawn out, languid, until it felt like he was unraveling you with every deliberate stroke of his lips against yours.
The world blurred, and you melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he lured a soft gasp from your lips. His hand slid to the back of your neck, steadying you, keeping you close as he took his time, tasting you, his lips teasing yours until you forgot to breathe.
When you moved to meet his kiss more eagerly, he slowed you, a faint smirk in the curve of his lips as he deepened the kiss with a patience that made your stomach twist. He was savouring this, savouring you, and the way he kissed you - deliberate, knowing - made your entire body ache with need.
His thumb brushed along your cheek, lingering as his other hand settled firmly at your waist, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping away.
Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair as he angled your face, holding you exactly where he wanted. When his tongue brushed lightly over your lower lip, you let out a soft, involuntary sound, and his hand tightened against your waist, holding you to him.
Loki’s mouth moved over yours with a control that made you shiver, each kiss deliberate, and the quiet dominance in his touch sent warmth pooling through you. With every gentle press of his lips, every slow, teasing stroke, he seduced you, guided you, igniting something deep and undeniable that had simmered for too long. Your heart beat heavily against your ribs, and as you gasped softly, his mouth trailed along your jaw, his lips barely brushing over your skin.
When he finally pulled back, his gaze was dark, his expression full of barely-contained intensity.
A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, the teasing glint returning to his gaze. “Well, look at you,” he soothed, voice rich with quiet amusement. “I half-expected you to come tearing through that door, seeking vengeance for how thoroughly I put you in your place earlier.”
Heat pooled in your face, and you fought to keep your composure, though it was a losing battle. “I’d have been fine if you hadn’t-”
“-handled you so effectively?” he interrupted with an infuriating grin, each syllable soft and mocking. “Don’t worry. I rather enjoyed it myself.”
His thumb still lingered on your flushed lips, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief but something darker, something that felt like an invitation. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and heated, and the words sent a thrill down your spine.
The invitation hung between you, heavy and dark, the desire in his gaze nearly tangible. Your breath hitched, your heart racing at the thought of losing yourself completely in him, of surrendering to this quiet storm between you.
“That depends,” you managed, barely able to steady your voice. “Are you planning to repeat what happened earlier?”
He chuckled, his fingers tightening on your waist as his eyes glittered with amusement. “Only if you ask very, very nicely.”
A thrill shot through you as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with a dark, velvet whisper. “That certainly won't be the last time we play like that. Tonight, however... I have other ideas for what to do with you." His fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver.
Gods help you. He was going to be your undoing.
"I thought I'd take my time, learning you. Slowly. Thoroughly. Every little detail, every sweet noise you can make." His lips skated across the pulse point in your neck. "Would you like that, darling?"
"Yes." You had barely whispered your reply before his lips were on yours again, his mouth moving over yours with a slow, consuming fervour that left no room for questions, no room for anything except the feeling of him, his warmth, his presence, the gentle yet undeniable control in every touch. His fingers threaded through your hair, his hand steadying you as he deepened the kiss, guiding you with a restraint that made you shiver.
You melted into him, your breaths mingling as his hands drifted, his touch both firm and soft, and when he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours with an intensity that left you breathless.
“This is not a game,” he whispered, a promise in his tone, his thumb tracing light patterns along your neck. His expression was sincere, edged with both longing and restraint. “You say the word, and we’ll stop.”
The words were a quiet echo, a reassurance that grounded you both. A chill of reverence passed between you, something thrilling, something impossibly tender. You met his gaze, nodding as your fingers traced the line of his jaw. “You too. No pressure, no expectations,” you whispered back, meaning it, and he smiled, a soft, endearing smile that made your heart ache.
And then he guided you back into his arms, every movement slow and deliberate as he kissed you once more, drawing you into a dance that would last until dawn.
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curiouspupsicle · 2 months ago
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Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (12/6/24) - Illustrated Stories
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Whoever decided that adult books didn't need artwork? I enjoy reading 19th century stories with line art from when they had been serialized (Dickens, Doyle, etc.) And who doesn't love Howard Pyle's beautiful illustrations for Robin Hood and King Arthur? So today I'm pleased to share a few of my favorite fan fics (but not all; some I've shared previously) accompanied by illustrations or in comic form. Like many illustrated fics, Butterflies in a Bell Jar (T) came about when a Big Bang united a writer and an artist. Writer Still_Not_King and artist @wyvernquill tell the story of co-workers Crowley and Aziraphale who team up at karaoke night and feel a spark. But it turns out, the company's no-fraternization policy is specifically directed at them and no one else. A surprising story that flies under the radar despite being truly unique and quirky. Rain in Avalon (M) by @snowfilly1 is set in Wessex after the death of King Arthur. Heaven wants peace. Hell wants war. Aziraphale and Crowley make a plan to keep both happy and themselves out of trouble. Start of The Arrangement. Sadly, I can't make out the name of the artist of the beautiful kiss illustration at the end. But worth stopping by to check it out. The latest from @klikandtuna, Naked and Afraid: Jingle Hell (T), is a Human AU in which Crowley and Aziraphale are competitors on reality show Naked and Afraid. This one-shot has great banter. I laughed out loud. And the writer also created the illustrations. Bonus is that it's set over Christmas for those looking for new holiday reads. Fan favorite @mrghostrat, wrote and illustrated Big Name Feelings (E) in which Crowley is a big name fan fiction writer who invites artist Aziraphale to pretend to be his boyfriend at a fan convention. Love the story and the style of the illustrations. Stalwart sun, wily moon (M) is a long, twisty tale in which Crowley is an art thief at the top of his game and Aziraphale is the former art conservator swept up into his world. Can't give much away without spoiling this tense and engaging story. But the writer/artist @dustandhalos decided that both our heroes are serious clothes horses. And provided stunning illustrations of their amazing outfits in the form of magazine cover art. Loved it!
I adore the style of @dreamdust who has been releasing two illustrated stories on tumblr. The first is Six Thousand Years in Love (NR) in which we see the developing relationship of our favorite pair starting in Eden. Each story comprises about 6 parts before going to a new setting. If you liked the cold open of episode 3 of the first season of Good Omens, don't miss out on what it inspired in dreamdust. And the second is Charmed (and Witch) (NR). A beautiful femme depiction in which Crowley is a witch and Aziraphale is the maiden caught in her enchanted grove. It is a WIP updated regularly. Purrchance to Dream (M) is a lovely collaboration between writer Calico and artist @vavoom-sorted-art. It's a WIP on hiatus but absolutely worth reading and subscribing in hopes they're able to get back to it. Crowley is suffering since Aziraphale returned to heaven. But he finds himself being stalked by a fluffy white cat who won't leave him alone. The comic form of One Night in Bangor (and the World's Your Oyster) is by @anotherwellkeptsecret based on the original fic by Atalan (found here - rated E). Heaven and Hell hold their annual joint meeting. But this time, the demons have made a bet about which hellish employee will be first to bed an angel. Both versions are hilarious. Do you have any favorite illustrated fics? Bonus points if the writer is also the illustrator. Please leave them in the comments. And please follow if you want to keep up with my weekly recs based on a different theme each time.
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arcanarix · 4 months ago
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The Helpless -- G. Suguru X Fem! Non Sorcerer Reader
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Summary:
You, a passionate graduate student, encourage the priest Suguru Geto to appear as a guest lecturer to one of the classes you assist teaching. Little do you know, that small, seemingly unimportant decision changes the entire trajectory of your life.
Word Count: 13.2K
Warnings: Yandere, Yandere Getou Suguru, cunnilingus, a reader who can see curses, a reader who is a graduate student, hands free orgasm, dubious consent
AO3
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It’s one thing to be a regular-degular everyday gal slaving away in academics.
It’s a whole other beast when you’re a regular-degular gal who, not only takes up an ungodly workload for your last Master’s semester, but you also decide to TA a few classes as well. But that’s not all! Did you mention you have other burdens you’re certain no one else in your world carries? Being able to…see things.
You’ve come to accept that seeing things is just as natural as breathing, at least, for someone like you. It’s why you’ve come to develop a sense of empathy for those unaware they’ve been afflicted, especially fellow students or the faculty around here. Or people you just pass by on your commute to class. There’s not much you can do, except give them some reassurance. There’s nothing more you can do, than to be a bit more lenient with students on their grades when their performance is has slipped. Whether from the things they’ve been afflicted by that only you can see, or for some other humane reason, like family problems, or personal problems.
You don’t remember when this curse of sight began. You’re not aware of anyone else in your family who struggles with this particular unique issue, either. While many take the old adage “fighting your inner demons” as just that, a figure of speech, you’ve come to learn that it’s a quite literal thing.
Humans manifest their own troubles.
It’s an early day for you. 7AM you’re lecturing one of your previous courses, Philosophy and Contemporary Thought. It’s nothing new for you, but it will be new to this new set of students, and you hope you shed some light on the topic in today’s lecture to these bright minds. It’s what you live to do now. You’re certain after you graduate that you’ll pursue a PHD in Philosophy.
While you still have another hour until the lecture begins, you have been writing on the whiteboard a high-level overview of the topic. Absurdism, Nihilism, and Existentialism. All fantastic topics in their own rights, and you might have a little too much passion when discussing them to the professor which typically lectures this class. In fact, at one point, you even bring up the idea of bringing in some guest lecturers, which the professor is delighted to do for you.
When you bring up who you want as the next guest lecturer, the professor is understandably a little uncertain given the organization’s ambiguous reputation. You suggest the leader of the Star Religious Group, Suguru Geto, a priest infamous for preaching about the current state of society to his followers and devotees. You think it might be an eye-opening experience for young minds. Not that you agree with a lot of his ideologies, but it is always good to go in with an open mind. Even if such ideologies might seem completely out there.
What’s more shocking to you is a new e-mail notification which is from the devil you know, Suguru Geto, you see when you toss your head over your shoulder in the middle of writing another bullet point on the board; the marker squeaking against it from the force. You dash back to your desk and podium, scanning the reply’s contents. Your eyes light up with delight! He’s pleased with the invitation and is happy to engage young minds, just as you are!
You crack your knuckles and draft a reply before hitting send. You then glance at the clock which reads 7:45AM. You have 15 more minutes to prepare the class and also make such a delightful announcement!
His reply is as quick as yours. Your eyes widen in shock from the last line.
‘Would it be bold of me to request to discuss this over some coffee or dinner? I’d like to meet you sometime before the day I’m scheduled to lecture.
Best Wishes,
Suguru Geto’
He doesn’t have to ask you twice! You grin as your hands spring back to life drafting another reply. All you can say is yes, yes, yes! If that means the possibility of more opportunities for exposure to other ideologies, then what’s the issue? You don’t see any!
Your pinky hits enter when you shoot the response back. And just in time, some of your students pour into the large seminar room. You don’t ignore the little curses latched onto some of them, ignoring the twinge of sympathy in your chest. You can deal with that later, however you can. You just know to remember the names attached to those faces when you go to grade their assignments.
They don’t need added stress. While you aren’t sure what to do with the curse of sight, it at least makes it easier for you to be kind.
And sometimes, that’s the hardest thing to be in a world like this. Where humans are the cause of their own suffering.
“Good morning,” you greet with a little pep in your voice, hoping to wake up those dreary faces. Yes, it’s early. Yes, there’s probably a million things these students would rather be doing than attend an 8AM 90-minute lecture. But these young minds are troopers for showing up, anyway; you always remind them it’s easier to do nothing.
Some students who have entered the class acknowledge you with a nod or a strained smile. Some of them with the curses latching onto them. They seem so tired. Only you can see that but to everyone else, they seem normal.
More of your students begin to pour into the grand lecture hall, and you grin. 5 more minutes.
“Take a glance and what’s on the board, and let me just turn on the big screens…” you trail off as you do just as you promise. The two huge overhead screens project your computer screen with the PowerPoint you prepared at the ready. “…I’m lecturing today in place of the professor who is away for the week.”
You do hear some students murmuring amongst themselves before the clock strikes 8AM, thus having you begin. The murmurs quiet down as you gesture for the students to direct their focus on you as you begin rambling away on some of your favorite topics ever.
And perhaps the greatest gift of all for you, is the fact that they still seem engaged in spite of their exhaustion. You have to give yourself a pat on the back for that one. It means you’re doing something right!
After the lecture ends, you return to your dorm and pull up your email for any other responses from Geto. To your delight, he has responded with more of his contact information. Instead of his professional phone number, he provides his personal. It’s still a bright beautiful day for you to conquer but you have some evening lectures to attend. You take advantage of the time to catch up on your own assignments and grading work from other classes you TA.
You do seem a bit desperate, but hey! It’s all for the sake of education, after all!
Dialing the number, you wait. You hear the other line click.
“Yes?” comes a smooth voice over the line. You exhale, calming your nerves the best you can in that moment. You can’t help it! All of this anticipation is killing you, but in a good way and not the undesirable way.
“Hello,” you begin, still a bit nervous (and, duh, excited) at the prospect of meeting such a famed priest. Even if he is a nutjob, that somehow makes him even more fascinating. “Am I speaking with Suguru Geto?”
“Yes. Are you the TA at Tokyo University, that I’ve spoken to just a bit ago?”
You answer with a bit too much enthusiasm in your voice. “Yes, that’s me! Thank you for your time with my students. I’m sure they’ll love to hear your perspective in class.”
“Of course,” he replies in a low murmur. “I am more than happy to provide my insights for the sake of furthering education. So, I’m set to lecture next week? Would you like to grab some dinner before then?”
“I’d love to,” you breathe, your heartrate increasing by the passing second. Why are you acting like this? You’re acting like a shriveling schoolgirl trying to impress your senpai! This can’t be real. “What days are you free?”
“I can free up my schedule, but yours is far more rigid than mine, I expect. So what day works best for you?”
“Hm…how does Sunday evening sound?” That’s the only day you’re ever truly free. It’s usually the day you use to reset your week, but you can get all of that out of the way before the evening, anyway! It’ll be a nice way to cap it all off.
“Excellent. I’ll give you the details to this restaurant my family likes to go to. I’ll come pick you up that day.”
Oh, you can feel the excitement seeping into your bones and searing them like acid. You can’t help it—anything that expands your knowledge, anything that gets your gears moving in that huge noggin’ of yours? That’s worth being excited about, for sure!
Though you have to admit, it feels a little too easy. You doubt he wants to discuss anything beyond the lectures and what kind of tidbits to feed to students, You don’t claim yourself to be a mind-reader, either, but judging from the tone of his voice…he seems just as eager as you to meet. Unless you’re just playing on some wishful thinking, because you’re just that damn naïve sometimes and you can’t help but let your imagination run a little wild.
You don’t realize you’ve not responded until you hear Geto clearing his throat over the line.
“Miss?” you hear him inquire, concern laden in his tone. You flush a bit, embarrassed by how long you kept him in this call when he has his own agenda to follow after this. You shouldn’t waste his time any more than you already have.
“Sorry, got lost in thought for a moment,” you chuckle, as your eyes roll upward. “Yes, that sounds perfect. I can’t wait to meet with you.”
A long, reflective silence stretches over the two of you, and then:
“And I, you. Until then.”
Click.
Oh, the anticipation! And it’s already Friday, so you have to make sure you give your best foot forward and the greatest first impression. After all, you don’t want someone like him to think that you neglect yourself in favor of furthering your students’ education? Even if in some cases that might be admirable, you don’t want to seem like you don’t take care of yourself.
Especially since you’ve caught wind of quite a bit of gossip around Suguru Geto. That he’s the handsomest devil people have ever seen, and that people join his organization for the sole reason that he’s beautiful eye candy. You wonder how that’s going to turn out for you. You can’t help it; you get as excited over men as you do over education, and you’re not exempt from desiring some kind of connection. You’re only human in the end.
It's simply human nature to desire connectedness. Heh. It’s part of why humans strive to join communities, who share similar values, mindsets…isn’t that why he’s lead Star Religious Group over the years? Isn’t that why you decided to pursue a degree on Philosophy, to seek an understanding on the human condition?
“Great, now I have to figure out what to wear…” you muse out loud as your gaze flits to your tiny ass closet. With hardly anything too fancy because you strive for comfort sitting through long, long, looooong lectures and instructing them. Nobody cares about fashion sense in higher education, anyway, at least on schoolgrounds.
You almost wish you’ve packed some nicer things for occasions such as these, though. It’s important to make a great first impression.
The dorms at Tokyo University aren’t the most pleasant. They’re all cramped up and feel isolating, even—more like especially—the single dorms. You’re lucky enough to nab one yourself. All you’re provided is a closet, a bathroom that connects to the neighbor’s, and a small bed. And a desk. Just standard, cramped up, uncomfy at best. Even if you give it a touch that shows off your sparkling personality, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s…just small.
Not in a cozy way. So far from a cozy way.
“What to wear, what to wear…” you muse out loud again, sliding open your bamboo closet to reveal…a very dull set of capsule clothes. You wish you didn’t listen to those influencers online, because how the hell are you going to style any of these basic, boring clothes? And why are you deciding upon this two nights before meeting with Geto? Oh, right. You’re hoping to get his attention somehow.
Because you’re a lonely piece of shit.
You don’t even know what he’s like. Not really. You have seen some pictures, and the rumors hold true: he’s jaw-droppingly handsome. Like, holy hell, you want to take his pants off right then and there and show him a good time on the fucking spot type of handsome. Those long thick luscious locks of black hair cascading down his back. Those striking, intense violet eyes that remind you of amethysts.
And that jawline. Oh, that fucking jawline. A sharp jawline that’s so, so damn rideable too.
Everything you want in a man, and he’s a damn lunatic and you know it.
Maybe you’re a little too into it.
“Ugh! Are you serious?” You sift through your tiny capsule wardrobe and also find that it’s completely void of any color. No pop of color to spice up a dull wardrobe…does this mean you have to go shopping? Do you even have the funds for that right now? A satin black blouse with faux pearl buttons catches your eye and you hum as you consider how to style it. It’s not the fanciest getup, but it’ll do.
“Now I have to settle on a makeup look and hair…ugh! And the right perfume? Did I even pack any with me this term!?” You practically tug and pull at your hair as you rack your mind for ideas; you don’t have the greatest sense of style, but you can always seek some trusted sources for ideas. You kind of wish you had time to make more girl friends during your time as a graduate here. You need second opinions, and you have access to none.
Curse you for being more of a loner! Curse you!
This might be something you have to settle until after your evening lectures…
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Sunday night approaches sooner than you expect. Geto sets the time for 6PM on the dot and you expect to meet him at the back of your dormitory. The sun has dipped over the horizon, leaving behind a sky in hues of soft pinks, lavender, and indigo, dusted with bright stars. Tonight’s a waning crescent moon.
The parking lot is barely full, with other students likely out and about and enjoying their weekend. You should have enjoyed it a little more, too, but your schedule left almost no room for such luxuries.
You unlock your phone to check the clock a few times, but it’s only a few minutes until he arrives. You sigh as a gust of wind rushes through your hair, and you don’t bother to try to adjust it. You’ve given up on making a good first impression because you can’t seem to make anything work out. You hope you look presentable, at the very least. Like a dignified, distinguished woman—the way you should be.
Who can’t seem to wait much longer because you sooooo hate to be left waiting! You’re huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf to yourself. It’s not even like he’s stalling because you’re the one who decided to wait outside! Out here, in the crisp and chilly evening autumn air. You want to take a moment to appreciate the array of colors on the leaves of the trees lining the parking lot but you are far too eager to meet someone interesting.
Finally, a dark, smaller limousine pulls in front of you. You’re stunned. You know the guy must be loaded, but you don’t expect something so fancy like this for some reason. The driver steps out and opens one of the back doors for you, and you offer her a smile. The lady with the pretty, wavy pink hair only huffs in response, which has you perking an eyebrow at the animosity (eh, women can be catty with each other for sure, but you aren’t interested in engaging in that sort of behavior, and never will be interested in such) and you slide into the vehicle. There, on the opposite seat, is the man of the hour. Suguru Geto.
The pink haired lady shuts the door after you enter, and you adjust your skirt a bit because suddenly you’re too aware of how high it hikes up your legs when you sit. You feel a little exposed, without meaning to. You probably have forgotten how to dress like you’re 22 and cute, ready to mingle and to party like it’s 1999.
You don’t remember what that’s like, actually. You idly wonder if you’ve forgotten how to be a girl, sprucing herself up for a potential suitor. Getting swept off of her feet, getting asked out on dates…when’s the last time that’s even happened to you?
You are about to part your lips to speak, but then you notice something floating overhead. Your eyes widen in panic, before glancing at Suguru, who seems composed and collected with a little grin playing on his lips, complementing the rest of his handsome features.
Gosh, is it illegal to be that ethereal? It should actually be a crime.
“It’s nice to meet you officially,” Geto begins in that smooth voice of his, like a jazz singer between speaking parts of their piece. Your heart flutters at the sight of him and you reprimand yourself in your mind.
Get a grip! You think. This is just for business! He addresses your name, and you confirm he’s pronouncing it correctly.
But something else catches your attention, a chill dancing down your spine.
You don’t ignore the disgusting, grotesque, hairy, indigo worm-like creature hovering just above Geto. Its eyes look like narrow slits, and it has a tiny mouth. It’s an overgrown, nasty ass caterpillar to you. You try not to grimace when you see little bits of drool dribbling out of its tiny mouth. You try your best not to make it seem obvious that you see it.
Is he aware of its presence? Does he know about…seeing things? Much like you?
But unfortunately for you, he seems to catch onto your shift in demeanor, quirking an eyebrow. He gestures to the grotesque creature, making your hairs stand on end. “I take it you can see my little friend here.”
“I…yes,” you swallow, eyes glancing down at your lap while you fiddle with the fabric of your skirt.
A stretch of silence falls between you two, and those sharp violet eyes of his are assessing you. As if trying to understand your dilemma…not like he’s much different in that regard here, but you’re about to find out how wrong you are about that soon enough.
“From what I gather, you don’t appear to know how to get rid of them. Have you only been able to see them?”
You nod grimly, digging your fingers into your skirt. “Yes, all my life. For as long as I can remember.”
“I see,” he replies, “It’s quite a burden to take on, isn’t it? Able to see the evil humans create, but unable to stop it.”
“…Yes,” you admit, chewing on your bottom lip. So just what is he getting at? “I’ve always been…sensitive to these things, I guess. I can’t tell you exactly when it all started. I think sometime after my grandfather passed away as a child.”
Geto hums in acknowledgement. “Often, the only time someone without the innate ability to sense curses see them at a time of tragedy, or even before their own deaths.”
He adjusts his shirt. He’s not wearing his priest garb; instead wearing a casual deep navy top and dark wash pants. You notice he paints his nails to match.
You find yourself swallowing. Why do you find that so damn attractive?
“There is a way for you to rid the world of these curses,” he says, tone calm, even. Soothing on your nerves…has he ever considered hosting a podcast? He has a voice you can listen to all day, just for the comfort. “I can help you in that regard, but of course, that’s not why we’re here tonight, isn’t it? I look forward to next week with you.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” you reply, voice meek, a flush creeping onto your features. “I-I’d like to know what more I can do about this curse of mine. The sight, I mean. Um, I hope I don’t sound rude, but does it always…hang around you like that?”
“Not always,” he chuckles, waving his hand and in a split second, the spirit above him vanishes. “That was just a test. I’ve been watching your lectures since your professor reached out to me, just to get an idea of what to expect from you.”
“How did you know I could see them through the lectures posted online?” you tilt your head, curiosity piqued. It’s not often that students are asked to come up to the class to demonstrate knowledge, but perhaps there’s been some instances where you acknowledge the presence of a curse in the classroom that goes unnoticed by the standard human eye. You have no choice but to elect to ignore the presence in the middle of class, but sometimes you can’t hide your own reactions, perhaps. He must have caught on one way or another.
“I’m sure you can put two and two together,” he answers with that smug little grin still on his face, but you can tell in spite of that, he’s being a bit playful with you. You shake your head, grinning in spite of the anxiety spiking in your mind.
“Of course,” you say with a smile tugging at your glossy lips, as a laugh escapes your lips in uneven breaths. Your eyes flit around the secluded area of the limo, as if unsure how to proceed from here. You twist the edge of the sleeves of your blouse.
What are you supposed to do with this information then? A sheen of sweat glistens on your face, and you hope your setting spray is doing the trick to hold that soft glam look you worked so hard to make perfect for the night.
It’s supposed to be freakin’ sweat and transfer proof… you think in your mind, your lips twitching ever so slightly. God, you try so hard and where does It get you?
“Is something on your mind?” Geto’s voice snags your attention back to the immediate reality. Oh, right. You’re supposed to be discussing work stuff. What you want him to bring up in his guest lecture. And if he wants to make that a regular thing for the students this term.
“Sorry,” you reply in a wistful tone, fiddling with a stray strand of hair. “It’s been a while since I went out like this, I guess. Been all work and no play, and this still involves work!”
A gasp slips from your lips as he takes your hands in his, and you admire how soft his skin feels against yours. When you meet his eyes, they’re not hardened but soft, glittering like the gemstones those violet eyes resemble.
“It doesn’t have to be.” He runs the pads of his fingers across your knuckles in a soothing gesture. You feel your guard melt away. He seems like such a kind person in spite of the sort of things he preaches to his followers or devotees. You have done a little digging on him too for the purpose of your studies. The man before you doesn’t seem like someone who holds so much disdain for the current state of society. Even if you do agree with some of his views to a certain degree, a lot of his ideals do seem a bit…impractical.
But then again, most religious priests do believe in many impractical things. You’re beginning to understand the origins, considering the things you’re able to see that the standard human eye cannot. Most of these spirits are manifested from humans’ negative emotions. If only humans can understand how to control and harness that.
Unfortunately, it’s not like people can turn their emotions off unless they’re robots.
You can feel the flush on your face deepen and the sweat dampening your face a bit. You dig into your purse for a wipe to dab some of that off. You are definitely leaving a scathing review on that setting spray falsely advertising its benefits. Geto doesn’t make any comments. He doesn’t seem all that concerned, even. He can tell you’re a bit unnerved and is being kind and patient with you.
It’s a kind enough gesture from him.
You arrive at the restaurant and rather than the driver, it’s Geto who escorts you out like a gentleman, hooking his arm around yours. Though you can’t see through the driver’s tinted window, you just know that the driver’s probably seething at you from the display of affection and you’ve only just met the man. Are you going to get lucky with him? Maybe not on the first date, but he does seem interested in you for other reasons than just business.
Geto definitely does look far more godly in person than in pictures—which already make him look like an ethereal being, blessed by the Heavens. You can’t believe this is even happening.
Maybe it’s been a while since he’s encountered someone else with the curse of the sight, too. Maybe he finds some comfort in knowing someone like you is out there.
You feel the same way about him. You both share that curse, of the sight of these spirits, but at least he can do something about it. And he can help you do something about it.
As you’re escorted to your table—a more secluded corner of the restaurant, which has you quirk an eyebrow, but you figure it’s to discuss the elephant in the room—you’re handed your menus and left to ponder your orders. As you open yours, he speaks up again, and your eyes glance up from your menu as you’re drinking in the sight of those delicious udon noodles that you’ve been craving for some time now.
“So your class,” he starts, taking a sip out of his iced water. “Tell me about it. What else should I expect and what would you like me to expand upon?”
“Well, that all depends on you. Since you’ve kept up with the recent lectures, I’d guess you know we’re covering the topics of nihilism, existentialism, and absurdism. I’m sure you have plenty of valuable insight about that. You can tie that into your work as well. Of course, minus the seeing things part,” you answer with a nervous chuckle. “The guest lecture is just a fun bonus for students. They get bonus points to their final grade if they attend as well as an incentive. It’s something to keep them engaged and interested in the material they’re absorbing.”
He nods along as you speak, resting his glass back on the table as his eyes scan the menu below him. “Ah. So I have free reign, then?”
“Don’t speak about the…obvious stuff between us; I don’t need to tell you that,” you respond, voice wavering. “I’d guess as long as it ties into the topics we’ve discussed in past lectures, it’s fair game. I’m sure they’d love to hear insights on what you do at Star Religious Group as well.”
“I see,” he expresses. Soon enough the waitress returns requesting your orders before taking the menus. After she leaves, he continues: “So what had you interested in me, specifically? I can’t help but be curious.”
“Oh. Well,” you trail off, racking your mind over what to say. You obviously can’t tell him it’s for more personal reasons. Though you have reason to believe that he already has picked up on that part. You can at least try to sound honest and not like you’re desperate for some action in your life? What makes you think you even have a chance with this guy, anyway? Pure, unadulterated delusion? Perhaps! You dare to meet his eyes as you try to muster up some kind of coherent answer. “Honestly, it’s just good for the students to get exposure to other ideologies. It’s all part of expanding their horizons and teaching them to keep an open mind. The whole purpose of attending university is to enrich the mind. Plus, you are a famed figure here. It just seems…you know, natural.”
He stares at you, brows furrowing as he takes in what you said. He seems…almost flattered by the answer you’ve given him. Even if you pull a lot of it right out of your bum, you’re pleased with the fact that you can save yourself from some level of humiliation in that moment.
Before he reacts, your orders are set on the table. Once again, he waits for the waitress to leave.
“Well, I’m happy to be there whenever you so desire,” he finally tells you as he pried his chopsticks apart. You join him in indulging in a meal. “Tonight is on me, by the way.”
“Oh, pish posh,” you quip with a dismissive wave of your free hand, grinning wide. “Let me handle the check this time. It’s the least I can do, since you’re taking time out of your busy schedule for this.”
A genuine smile tugs at his lips from that. It makes you perk up a bit; he does seem so guarded around you—or is he just like that in general?—for some reason.
“Such generosity is rare these days,” he comments, “I can’t remember the last time I encountered a character so authentic like yours.”
“Eh, I’m not all that,” you retort with an amused huff while taking a huge heaping of udon. You ignore some of the broth hitting your chin as you talk through chewing. “It’s a natural way to act, isn’t it?”
He shakes his head, chuckling as he seems amused by your erratic antics. Even his beautiful violet eyes are twinkling because he seems like he’s enjoying himself.
A win is a win! You find yourself beaming, heart swelling with pride. Does this mean you have a shot?
“I beg to differ,” he quips, “It’s…rare these days, to find such authenticity in humans.”
Well, you think, he’s not exactly wrong there…
Things grow quiet for a moment as you’re slurping up your udon, and in the middle of another particularly long thick noodle, you catch him staring at you. Tilting your head, you finish your bite and gesture to him.
“What’s up?” you question with a confused puppy expression.
“Nothing,” he declares easily, helping himself to another roll of sushi. “You remind me of someone, is all.”
You almost want him to elaborate on that observation, but then ultimately decide against it. It’s not all that important to you right then. For the rest of dinner, the two of you begin to discuss more mundane topics until you’re done. You follow through on your promise in taking care of the check, which he graciously thanks you for (and you of course brush off because why? It’s not a big deal to you). He escorts you back to the limo and helps you back inside.
The ride back to your dorm is pleasant. You two continue to talk about things that interest you both, whether about the future lectures or about the curse of sight. It’s something to discuss later, but you do appreciate when he tells you he’s happy to help you where he can.
“Would it be inappropriate of me to ask you if I could walk you back to your dorm?” he inquires, “Just to make sure. As you know, schools are breeding grounds for curses. Manifested from stress, anxiety, fear…”
“I’ll be alright,” you promise, “I haven’t encountered too many issues since I stayed here. I’ll be sure to give you a call if I do need anything.”
“I’d like that very much,” he states, but then stops you before you begin walking away, grasping your elbow, his touch gentle. “I meant to ask you before, but time slipped past me. Are you aware of the existence of sorcerers?”
Your eyebrows shoot up to your forehead.
 “Sorcerers?”  you echo. He nods.
“It’s what I am,” he explains further, but it clearly doesn’t make things simpler for you. “I’m granted abilities where I can exorcise those spirits from humans. It’s part of why I took over that organization. As much as I’d like to explain further, I’m sure you’re pressed for time as well. This is something to discuss over a coffee date, if you’re so inclined to meet more with me beyond business?”
Your heart skips a beat at the idea. You nod.
“Yes,” you concede, practically breathless. “I’d really like that.”
He smiles, releasing your arm and almost appearing bashful from the proximity. “I’ll wait for you to enter your dormitory before I head off. You have a good night.”
You match his smile. “You too.”
You twist on your heel and can still feel his intense gaze on your back as you enter the building. You don’t turn back, but you can still feel his stare. You don’t sense any malice. More curiosity concerning you.
You are curious about him, too.
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On the day of Geto’s guest lecture, there’s a lot of excited chattering amongst your students, with beaming smiles and wide doe eyes as they glance down at the enigma of the man at the front of the room. Many people are aware of his reputation—however they receive his perspectives. You see many of your female students snapping a few photos of Geto, with your male students shooting envious glares at him, which has you shaking your head to yourself as you pull up Geto’s presentation he’s set up for the class. Of course you’re no stranger to the fact that he’s popular to the ladies, because you’re not immune to his objective good looks, either.
This is surely to get your students interested in the material.
Before the class begins, Geto pulls you aside for a moment.
“Were you able to take a look at the presentation before today?” he asks, “I did my best to adhere to what you asked of me.”
You give him a nod. “Everything looks perfect and ties in well with the course material. I really appreciate all your effort, Geto.”
“Suguru,” he interjects, “No need to be formal with me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
You like to think so. You give him a reassuring grin.
“Go ahead,” you push as your grin widens. “All those curious eyes are on you now.”
The lecture, as you expect because you don’t expect anything less, is a whopping success. You have never seen your students more involved before. Maybe Geto’s good looks help in that regard, but you hope to yourself that they actually pay attention to the things he’s said about his own ideologies in correspondence to the course material discussed. Even your typical troublemaking students are engaged, with their mouths agape and their notebooks open as they scribble furiously down on their papers.
Geto carries his words with authority like he always does; it captures the attention of everyone in the room.
“Society often asks the strong and fortunate ones to protect what is weak, but at what cost?”
You watch as his eyes scan through the room, inviting his students to challenge the ideology. “There is a natural order to the universe, and disruption of that order comes at a greater price than humanity is willing to accept or acknowledge. Why protect those incapable of willing to contribute? It risks stagnation. It risks evolution. Not to go back to the roots of Darwinism and the survival of the fittest, but strength and progress are ultimately what drive the world forward.”
A few of your students exchange confused glances, unsure of how to react, but their curiosity still keeps them engaged. Many other students are sitting with their mouths agape, pencils still poised above their notebooks. There are others nodding along, but maybe not necessarily in agreement with Geto’s ideals.
Geto proceeds, his words woven into the course material as you wish for him to, in ways that challenge the status quo.
“Let’s consider the history of human advancement,” he goes on, as he changes the slides on the projector with the device you’ve given him. “We see how often significant change has been driven by only the strongest and most adept of minds. Society romanticizes the idea of protecting the weak, but in doing so, we are forsaking the future for the sake of the present—for the sake of preventing the inevitable. True progress demands necessary sacrifice.”
What a nutjob, you sigh, but you keep an eye on your students, who are as open minded as they come if they’re taking a philosophy class. They’re enthralled by him, by the way he connects these broader concepts with the subjects they’ve covered in this class and classes similar. While they don’t agree with his worldviews (and frankly, neither do you), it still has their gears shifting in their minds. They’re engaged. They’re eager to enrich themselves. That’s the ultimate goal for you.
By the time the lecture concludes, you see even the usual skeptics in your class are caught off-guard, mesmerized by his words, their pens still furiously scribbling across the page after Geto completes his presentation. You are in absolute awe of this man. You don’t know how you can repay him for such an intense lecture.
You do treat him to coffee and pastries at a café on campus, thanking him profusely for everything and you do hope that he continues to come back for the rest of the semester.
That’s definitely one of the better lectures you’ve seen since you’ve begun pursuing higher education.
He takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he settles back into his chair, relaxed as if he’s conquered the world today. Which he may as well have in your eyes.
“I’m glad I was able to make a lasting impression on them,” he boasts, “Are they normally this intrigued by the material?”
You shake your head at that.
“Oh, not to such a degree like today,” you respond earnestly. “I was impressed. The professor seemed very pleased as well, so he’s definitely hoping you come by more often.”
His eyes flicker with something unreadable before he leans forward, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper.
“I did notice many of your students haunted by spirits,” he confesses, “I can do something about it, you know.”
“That would be great. It’d give you more of a reason to frequent the university,” you reply, “You said you can teach me how to get rid of the problem?”
“I can,” he assures you with a hum. “I’m more than happy to demonstrate one day.”
“How soon can that be for you?” you ask a little too eagerly. “If I can do the things you can do…even a little bit, I want to be able to help people in a way that I can too.”
He smiles at that, his face brightened as he does, and your heart does backflips.
“You truly are a good person,” he remarks, his tone almost reverent.
You glance away, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Receiving compliments have always made you feel awkward, and coming from someone like him, who seems so genuine, so sincere…it’s both off-putting yet flattering to you. You shrug the compliments off with a noncommittal hum, sipping your latte as a form of distraction. “Eh. That’s up for debate.”
“No, believe me, I mean what I say,” he insists, his gaze unyielding. “It’s…great to meet someone like you.”
You freeze in place. Damn, this guy…is he trying to kill you with kindness, or something? It’s definitely working because you swear you lost all the feeling in your legs; your body threatening to turn to mush.
“So,” your voice peters out as you try to continue the conversation before it lulls into another awkward stretch of silence. “Why don’t we meet more often this week about the exorcisms?”
“Sure,” he replies, “Do you know where my temple is?”
“No,” you tell him. He hands you his business card with the address on it.
“You can come there tonight, if you wish,” he utters, adjusting his collar as a slow, teasing smile graces his features. “Or, you know. Whenever you have some free time to learn more about what it is I do behind closed doors. Obviously, this kind of thing isn’t known to the public. As you might have guessed, the religious group is a bit more of a…coverup.”
You nod. “I’m honesty not surprised that this kind of thing is legit.”
“Of course you’re not,” he retaliates, his features darkening which nearly has you jump in your seat from the sudden shift in his demeanor. “You’re not blind like the rest. You see what lurks between our worlds.”
An eyebrow raises at the way he phrases that statement. Maybe it’s his nutjob side of him coming out, which you’re willing to ignore. You obviously don’t think he’s a nutjob for being able to see things like you can, and to rid the world of the issue. No, no, in fact, you see him as a saint for carrying such a burden. Even if it’s not one he’s wanted, maybe. More than likely, actually.
You just find some of his preachings to be impractical, is all. But like you have said before, many priests preach impractical things. It’s ultimately what appeals to the masses, isn’t it?
“Well,” you start, as you get up to leave. You have some more classes to attend yourself before you can think about anything to do with spirits. “Thanks for today, Suguru. It’s really been an eye-opening experience for my students. I know!”
“Of course,” he replies smoothly, getting out of his seat as well and pushing his chair under the table. “Thank you for treating me to coffee. Next time, you must allow me to get the bill. I can’t imagine this is easy on your finances as a student yourself.”
“Aw, fine,” you reply with a huff—your stubbornness is more playful than anything else, meant to lighten the mood a bit because you crack under too much tension.
“Next time.”
You’re definitely lying through your teeth. You know you won’t; he probably knows you won’t.
“And next time,” he goes on to say, without skipping a beat. “I’d like it to be a proper date.”
You almost drop the nearly empty cup of coffee in your hands from that statement, which encourages a hearty laugh out of Geto. Your blush deepens, and you place your hands on your hips, indignant, but he doesn’t stop laughing so you can’t help but join him and laugh at your own ridiculous antics. His laughter seems so pure, untouched. Raw.
It knocks the wind out of you, you find yourself admitting. You have never seen a more beautiful man in your life.
A part of you wonders the last time he’s ever felt so alight and carefree like this.
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Later that week, you find your schedule easing up so you decide to make a quick detour to the temple. You give him a heads up that Friday evening, and he gets a ride ready for you at the same time you met before. He must be a creature of habit, or he just doesn’t want you to feel scattered. Either way, you’re looking forward to this demonstration he has for you. Maybe you might meet a client in need that night. As you’re picked up and driven there, by that same, snarky driver as last time, you can’t help but let the anticipation kill you inside a little. You do bring some of your supplies with you tonight, since time waits for no one and you have piles upon piles of assignments to grade, regardless of what happens tonight. You doubt Suguru will mind.
When you arrive, you’re greeted by the Star Religious Group’s temple which screams opulence the moment you step out of the limousine. Your mouth is slightly agape, taking in the sight. The building stands tall, grand, majestic. The religious group’s crest is on the center of the double doors which you enter after the driver, who is escorting you to Suguru’s exorcism room. The halls seem to stretch for miles, but you aren’t allowed time to explore as the pink-haired snooty driver shoves you into the room where Suguru waits, expecting you.
“Sheesh, your driver has got quite the attitude with me,” you remark, dusting off any particles in your clothes. You set your schoolbag aside as you approach Suguru, who is sitting in the middle of the room on a raised platform. “Thanks for having me tonight.”
“I’m happy you can make it,” he answers as he adjusts himself in his seat. He’s back in his typical priest garb, and you wonder if that was a personal choice because you have to admit; it’s not the most flattering on him. Not that religious garb is ever flattering…
“So,” you begin, seating yourself in the center of the room. “The demonstration. What does that entail?”
Geto casts a veil by chanting an incantation you have never heard of before. Then again, you have never even heard of sorcerers until now, so everything is new to you. Then you witness a few curses lurking about, ones he likely released for the sake of the demonstration. You watch, wide eyed, as the amalgamations are absorbed into a black orb that can fit into his hand. He smirks as you before you watch him ingest it with a look of disgust etched on his face, and from the way he arches his back to force it down.
You’re in awe. That’s his personal method for exorcising spirits? He’s discussed it in the past, but you have never seen it in person until now. You’re not sure what to think. He’s mentioned there are other methods other sorcerers have, and this is the one he, in his words, has been cursed with as a sorcerer. You idly wonder if he ever wanted to be one from the start.
“And that’s that,” he finishes, “I’m already their host, and exorcisms are usually much tougher than this, at times. The next time a client shows up, I can show you a more proper exorcism.”
He lifts the veil.
“And you say this is your unique method?”
He nods. “Yes. I consume them to exorcise them.”
“Your body holds all of those demons? Like a vessel?” you whisper, eyes shimmering from concern. Doesn’t that…not seem unfair to him? He has to hold all of those curses in his body. He has to make sure they don’t roam freely. He has been granted a power that seems to eat away at him, chip away at bits and pieces of his own agency.
That’s monumentally unfair in your eyes. You wish you can lift that weight on his shoulders.
He nods again, expression grim.
“Suguru,” you start after a period of reflection. You chew a bit on your lip. “Doesn’t it ever feel like too much?”
The resounding silence you get is response is all the answer you need to understand.
Suguru finally takes you on that proper date sometime later. Which eventually expands to more dates. Seeing each other more often. And as a man of his word, he even follows through on his promise and returns back to your university for a few more guest lectures all throughout the semester.
You feel like you’re floating; you never expect for anything to evolve with Suguru, but you’re definitely not complaining about the development.
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It’s late one evening when Suguru requests your presence for another demonstration of an exorcism. It’s one of your students, he mentions to you, and you recognize her immediately upon entering the exorcism chamber. She’s a bright, ambitious girl who’s been thriving in your class in spite of the curses surrounding her that you’ve been able to notice. It’s why you’ve been a little more lenient with some students than with others. Is it unethical? Perhaps… but sometimes it’s necessary to give them a little grace here and there.
She’s approached you several times between class and during lectures, her eyes wide and thrilled to learn in spite of clearly cracking under the weight of the torment the curse spirits have put her through. The young lady has mentioned in passing that she’s felt a weight on her shoulders, an overwhelming amount of exhaustion that she can’t seem to shake off no matter how much medication she takes to stay alert. You know the reason why. And Suguru has noticed her. That’s why he’s suggested the student to visit his temple.
“She understands she’s cursed after I explained to her,” Suguru instructs you, his tone colder than what you’re used to all of a sudden. “I’ve noticed these curses are particularly stubborn with her.”
Now, as you stand beside Suguru on his raised platform, looking at the young, bright bubbly student in question, cowering in her spot. You can’t help shuddering from the tension. You’re never great with it. Suguru maintains his sharp gaze on the poor girl, his violet eyes reflecting a darkness you’ve never seen before in him. The student stands trembling at her spot, her hands clutching the hem of her shirt. Her gaze flits to you, fear pooling in her eyes, and your breath hitches—you’ve never seen her more desperate for relief from her torment. Even the strong ones break.
“Watch closely,” Suguru instructs, resting a hand on your shoulder.
He raises his free hand, weaving no gestures, nothing. Just instructing the girl coldly to hold still. You watch in awe as you watch the disgusting, grotesque curse spirits clinging onto the poor girl vanish into that same black orb. Some of the lights in the room flicker. The temperature drops and you rub your arms, seeking some kind of friction, some warmth. You can see your breath when you breathe out.
“Suguru…” you murmur, beady eyes glancing up at him.
“Shush,” he chides, his tone commanding and almost dismissive, not meeting your gaze.
The student’s body jolts as if struck by an invisible force, her eyes wide in terror as her breath comes in ragged gasps. You feel an instinct to rush to her, to offer some comfort, but Suguru holds you in place. He has told you to come here to watch, not to act.
“Those blasted curses, they cling to the weakness in humans,” Suguru mutters, his lips barely moving as he brings the orb to his lips. “Humans…they don’t understand the forces they impose on themselves.”
You don’t rip your gaze from him, a strange knot twisting in your gut. He addresses humanity with such disdain that it makes your skin crawl. It’s almost as if he wants to distance himself from the very essence of humanity.
He swallows the orb whole, arching his back as he grimaces at the strong taste (they can’t taste good). Your student collapses forward, her body quivering from relief. She’s smiling as she feels weightless and carefree again. You finally rush to her side, your heart hammering as you rest your hands on her shoulders, offering her comfort. Now she’s safe…but seeing the way Suguru’s attitude has shifted…something is not settling right in your soul about him.
“You helped her,” you whisper, bewildered eyes flitting to his. “Thank you. Thank you, Suguru.”
Suguru’s expression remains cold, calculating, still looking at the student with a hint of disdain. “Of course. It’s what I do. These blasted things thrive off of the pathetic weaknesses of humans.”
Your eyebrows furrow at that statement. He’s cold. You know the gist of the ideologies he preaches, of course, but you never thought it ran so much deeper in his soul. His gaze finally softens the longer he stares at you. For a moment, you’re not sure you really know the sort of person Suguru Geto is. It can’t just be the public persona he displays. And it can’t just be the sides he shows to you one on one. It’s true; humans are both simple and complex, multi-faceted…You can never truly know someone, even if you’re in close proximity to them.
“Are these the things you wish to learn?” he inquires, approaching you and helping you to your feet. He acknowledges the student before she makes her exit. Not before thanking Suguru profusely for his help. She’s never felt better. You can’t help but feel a sense of happiness for her. That torment has finally ended.
“I want to do the things you can do,” you reply, “I want to help others. I don’t want to be helpless anymore.”
His gaze softens even more at that, and your heart flutters.
“Then I’ll show you. There are workarounds for those who lack cursed energy. Tools imbued with cursed energy will be beneficial to you.” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “If you want to be the change you want to see in the world, then let me be your guide.”
“Teach me everything, Suguru,” you yelp a bit as he goes in for a dip kiss, leaning you backward as your lips meet. You return the passion, lips melding against his as if you can’t think of anything else you’d rather do in that moment. “I want to help you.”
He hoists you up by your bottom, hooking your legs around his waist as he continues to kiss you deep, leading you back to the raised platform and settling you on the cushions and not once breaking the kiss.
You don’t even stop him when he begins to unbutton your top. Or when he slips off your pants.
He trails little kisses and bites between your thighs, and you let out a dreamy sigh. You don’t even care that you’re practically out in the open here. But by now, the temple’s off the clock, isn’t it? Besides, it’s not like you haven’t already done riskier things with Suguru already in your own damn classroom.
Next thing you know, you’re already debauched and fucked out of your mind and he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet. He’s just taking you apart with his mouth, probably in an effort to wash away that curse taste he’s ingested not too long ago.
You do like to toy with the idea of being his stress ball. Carrying such a burden like his…he must need that escape. That little time of respite from his role in the world that has been thrust upon him against his will.
You can’t blame him.
If that escape is hours crushed between your thighs? Well, who are you to deny him?
Your lips part as you gasp when you feel his tongue twist around your little bud of nerves. He really has shown he can do this for hours. He’s even creamed untouched like a hormonal schoolboy before a handful of times just doing this and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed. There’s even been another time where he’s been so aroused by you that he’s creamed inside as soon as he entered you, which at first he found embarrassing but you insisted to him that it was the highest compliment in the world to you.
You wonder if that’s going to happen again tonight.
A shriek escapes your lips as he closes his mouth over your gooey folds and suckled hard, gulping down some of that heavy slick while rolling his tongue between them. Your back arches against the floor, hips grinding up into his mouth and he growls, low and menacing, like he’s in that mood—only interested in pleasing you on his terms.
“Suguru…” his name slips from your lips in a dreamy moan, legs constricting around his neck as you desire to knock him closer into you. His breath fans against your sex, and you buck your hips upward, craving more friction.
All you’re craving is more.
Already you can see a hint of a wet spot in his robe, meaning he’s already strained, already fully erect and leaking of arousal just doing this, just tearing you apart. You want to return the pleasure but this is another instance where he doesn’t need to be touched. He looks flushed himself, fucked out of his mind and delirious, eyes half mast as he locks his gaze on yours, his lips and chin sheen from your slick, while suckling and licking and slurping at your sopping gooey glistening cunt like he’s honored to do it.
He growls low again, and that wet spot in his pants spreads. He’s creamed himself untouched again and you mewl from the thought. Yet he doesn’t seem satisfied. He never is after just one orgasm or three out of you. You come soon after him, clenching helplessly around the wet muscle. He only chuckles, passing his tongue from your entrance back up to your clit. Where the tip of his tongue teases it with a few flicks before plunging it into your twitching, fluttering, soppy hole. You moan, hands gripping his head, clawing at his hair. He approves with another twist of his tongue inside your gummy walls.
In these moods of his, he doesn’t plan to stop. And you don’t mind. This indulges you as much as this indulges him.
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During finals week, Suguru decides to hang back while you’re proctoring the exams for your class. He’s able to exorcise any spirits while there in a blink of an eye, lifting the weights off of numerous distressed students. You can’t help but smile. He does excuse himself a few times to ingest the curses, returning the third time with a cup of coffee for you both.
He sneakily brushes his fingers over your hand as you scan the classroom for any suspicious activity—meaning cheating, not curses—and you cast a sidelong glance at him with a little smile on your face.
As the students turn in their exams at the end of the period, Suguru speaks up and catches your attention as you’re stacking the papers neatly on your desk.
“So, is this the last exam for you?” he asks, hovering over your desk.
“No,” you answer with a defeated sigh. You’re so over the term. Your final term is going to be your lightest workload, which you’re looking forward to; it’s the little things. “I still have my own exams to take for the rest of this week.”
“Oh. Perhaps afterward, we can celebrate then. Nanako and Mimiko have been nagging me about going overseas somewhere for the winter. Will you join us?”
You tilt your head as he moves to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.
“Who will look after the temple?”
“Ah,” he quips with a sigh. “Manami can handle it while we’re gone.”
“Oh, well, if you really would like me to, then of course I’d love to go. Where are you guys thinking?” You’re in the middle of putting away your laptop and the files full of exams tucked away in a manilla folder.
“Bali,” he answers with a grin.
Your jaw hangs open and your entire face lights up. “No way.”
He leans in to give you a chaste kiss. “Of course. We have all the money and the time now and the girls have always wanted to go. They’ve come to adore you. They’d love you there.”
Pinch me, I’m dreaming. How did I get so lucky?
Little do you know that luck of yours is going to be tested.
You squeal in delight as you steal a kiss from him. Before you know it that kiss melds into a quick succession of heated kisses, and he grips you by your waist, hoisting you over your desk and pulling you flush into him.
“Can we lock the doors now,” he breathes between slobbery, biting kisses and though delirious you still manage to nod, as he reluctantly pulls away to do just that along with closing all the blinds.
He returns to you, shoving your things out of the way on your desk as he presses your back against the cool wood. He locks your lips in a frenzied kiss, desperate, soon trailing down to the juncture between your neck and shoulder where he bites down hard.
“Suguru—!” you hiss, your nails digging into his shoulders. He responds with an amused chuckle, licking the hickey now blooming on that area as his expert hands yank your work slacks off.
“The cameras are all off, yeah? Or if they are—let’s give them a show then—!”
“Nasty,” you playfully chide while whacking his shoulder. “They’re off now. No more lectures in this room today.”
“What a shame,” he laments, as he pries your legs as far apart as they can go before plunging his tongue into your sex. You squeal like a pig again, for an entirely different reason, biting the inside of your cheek.
“Ah ah,” he admonishes with a frown as he twirls his tongue between your already soaked folds, groaning low and guttural at your natural taste. “I want you to enjoy it, baby.”
You feel the flat of his tongue lap over your sex, smooth and languid, and you flush harder from the goopy, gooey squelching noises from the combination of your juices and his saliva. He’s devouring you like he always enjoys, taking his time in taking you apart.
You yelp as he inserts his large pink tongue inside, and he chuckles again, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. You squirm under him, and he holds you down in place, his grip unyielding.
It’s all so lewd, but you should be used to this by now, feeling his tongue plunge in and out of your gummy, spongy insides. But your head falls back, nearly slamming itself against the desk as your eyes cross.
The sloshing of your juices and his saliva is so…so embarrassing, and in a lecture hall too? Not as if you haven’t done this many times before with him, but why is it as thrilling as the first time whenever it’s with him? No one’s ever made you feel the things he did. No one’s ever understood you like the way he did and you want to give him everything.
You come in a hot flash, and he pulls off your sex, but not before a few long, dramatic slurps and gulps of your gushing slick that makes you squeak in embarrassment again. You basically are livestock to Suguru. He’s not even going to deny it either.
You whine pitifully as you feel him pull away, feeling sorely empty. But you’re not whining for all that long when you hear the light wisp of him pulling his pants and taking out his fully erect cock. He’s prepared, as usual, taking out a condom to wrap around his absurdly huge length that you’re surprised you can even handle taking even with enough prep. He lines himself to your entrance and pushes just the tip inside first, waiting for you to adjust with a little grunt of his own. You love it when he gets vocal; it’s often the only time you ever see him completely raw and uncomposed. He lets himself go completely with you, and he plunges more of his length inside and you utter a little strained gasp, gripping tighter onto his shoulders if it’s even humanely possible at this point.
He hoists you up from the desk, securing you in his arms as he begins to move you up and down on his cock. You cling helplessly to him, burying your face into his neck and breathing in his natural musk. It’s crazy to you that this is the most vulnerable you’ve ever been with any partner you’ve ever had and he makes you feel so secure in allowing it. He must feel the same way. Doesn’t he?
His hands rake down your sides, stopping at your waist where he rests them. He purrs, his thrusts growing more erratic with need, and you can still hear some sloshing of your juices from your previous orgasm and it’s lewd and so embarrassing but it’s so hot because it’s him doing this to you. Not many people can get away with this in a dignified way…ever, really, but for some reason, with him, he makes you feel on top of the world.
And you are on top of at least his world right now.
Not much longer, and you find him releasing with you soon following suit, your gummy, gooey, slick walls clenching desperately around his cock. You stay like that for a few moments, still secured tightly in his arms and his cock still inside. Sometimes he likes to let it just sit in there for a few minutes, maybe longer, savoring the comfort of being inside you before fully pulling out and disposing of the used condom (in a much more discreet manner, considering they’re still in a public lecture hall).
He's always prepared. You appreciate that about him. He brings in supplies for a quick cleanup and suggests going to the nearest restroom for that before he escorts you back to your dorm. It’s your final week there until the semester ends. You ask him to stay and to join you in the shower.
Of course he won’t say no to such an inviting request.
Lucky for you, the shower you share with your neighbor is vacant, and you lock either side before stripping down. Geto follows soon after, slipping inside with you after you wait for the water to preheat.
“When do you graduate?” he murmurs as he kisses your shoulder. You lean into him, sighing in relief. You have never felt more at ease with anyone than like with Suguru. He makes you feel things no one else in your life ever has before. It’s why you have so few in your life; nobody ever truly ‘got’ you.
“Um, from the Master’s program next term,” you reply in a whisper. “But I think I might aim for my PhD…”
He secures his hold around your waist as the scalding water showers over your bodies. Steam begins to fog the area around you.
“Being on school grounds where curse spirits are everywhere…are you sure you want to be around that for a few more years?”
“Curse spirits are everywhere, in general, Suguru,” you counter, craning your neck as he kisses up to your ear. “It’s just…a fact. I can’t let that stop me from pursuing my goals.”
“That’s a fair point,” he mutters into your skin before reaching for your shampoo. “May I?”
“You’re sweet,” you chuckle, snatching the shampoo bottle from his hand. “But why don’t you let me take care of you, for once, Suguru?”
His eyes widen at the idea, but he gives you a soft smile. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of how tired he seems from the burden he’s forced to carry—nothing he’s ever wanted for himself from the start. The more you learn of his role of a sorcerer, the things he’s faced…you can’t help but want to give back. You want to make him feel cherished, loved. Because he is cherished and loved.
His lips move to your forehead where he peppers soft kisses as you begin to emulsify the shampoo he’s handed to you between your hands before working into his luscious locks of hair. You can’t help but admire how long it is, how well he takes care of it. He says he allows his twin girls to brush through it from time to time since they enjoy things like that.
You feel him pull you closer into him, so close that you can feel your synced heartbeats. You’re in the middle of washing down the middle of his hair and you chuckle.
“What’s up?” you whisper, as he hides his face into your neck.
“Thank you,” he whispers back, his voice almost like a pained whimper, catching you off guard. He has never been this open with you before. “Thank you.”
You think you hear him sniffling, at first thinking it’s because the steam is catching up to him. The steam from a shower can really do wonders on clearing out those sinuses. But no. It’s not from that at all, you realize as you hug him closer, drawing soothing circles on his back.
Suguru’s…crying.
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He decides to stay a bit longer with you in your dormitory, snuggling you close into his body as you’re grading the exams.
You don’t comment on the crying, because it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, anyway. Why make a comment? He is free to feel everything and anything around you. It’s the greatest compliment of all to you.
He’s safe here with you, just like you feel safe with him.
You brush your fingers through his hair, inhaling the fresh cleanly scent of it. Fruity. Citrusy. It’s calming as you try not to make any snide comments on some students’ work, because higher education doesn’t necessarily mean you get a lot of bright students. It’s still a mixed bag.
“How the hell does a Master’s student not know how to spell mitigate?” you sigh, tapping your red ink pen against your forehead. “Or criticism? Seriously?”
Suguru chuckles at that, resting his chin on your shoulder, and meeting your eyes. The bags under his eyes are clearer now up close. He can’t mask his exhaustion. From whatever it is. You can only make speculations from what he’s shown you already. You aren’t here to judge him; what right do you have to do that? You can only be here for him.
“I love you,” you hear him say and your bewildered eyes meet his. But you come down from the temporary shock, kissing the bridge of his nose.
“I love you too,” you reply, meaning it, as you resume grading before groaning again. You just may rip all of these exams apart on the professor’s behalf! “Another misspelling of criticism?! These students need to go back to grade school because how the hell have they gotten this far in life?! Gosh, so much of their stupid is showing…”
You hear Suguru chuckle again and you beam at him, knowing you achieved your goal. Just to pull him out of that dark space he’s trapped himself in—whatever it is. You’re here for him. You want him to understand he’s not alone.
You press another kiss to the crown of his head. When’s the last time Suguru ever felt relaxed? Or actually happy? In a world like this and a technique like his, can he ever relax or feel happy?
You feel him slump against you as he drifts to sleep, snoring soundly. He’s more than welcome to stay, as long as he needs to. His duties back at the temple can wait. He needs to allow himself to rest.
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When the semester ends, you take up Suguru’s suggestion to live with him at the temple. You don’t have plans to go back to the countryside, and your trip with them is in another week, anyway. Over time, it’s clear to you how deep his disdain for humanity runs from the way he treats his clients behind closed doors. He makes flippant remarks, and at first you wanted to believe it’s just some strange quirk of his.
An incident proves how wrong you are.
You aren’t supposed to be there. It’s your fault. But you enter the exorcism chamber seeking Suguru concerning the upcoming trip to Bali—you can’t even remember what about specifically anymore—and that’s where you see him at his most cold and heartless toward a client.
There, in the middle of the room, is an elder man cowering on his hands and knees before Suguru who possesses that hardened expression like he has other clients. Except something about this seems off. More off than usual.
“Please, Geto, I’m so sorry. I have no more money to give you, but please, please help me. I can’t take it anymore!” the man begs, and Suguru only chuckles coldly in response. He hasn’t realized you’ve entered the room yet. Or maybe he has, and he’s just begun to show you his unhinged side.
“If you have no more money for me, then I have no more use for you,” he sneers and though you can’t understand what’s happening, he snaps his fingers and some of his devotees go to retrieve the man to drag him out of the room. His eyes follow them with that hardened stare, which softens as soon as he sees his followers brush past you.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he apologizes as he approaches you. “Did you need something, baby?”
“Suguru, who was that just now?” you stammer as you clutch onto your phone, your lips pressed together as you try to make sense of what you just witnessed. Suguru doesn’t look like the man you’ve come to know to that man but now he seems to behave as if that’s nothing out of the ordinary for him.
Which maybe it isn’t, but it is out of the ordinary for you.
It just goes to show—you never really know who someone is behind closed doors, after all. You still don’t want to judge Suguru. Everyone is multifaceted. Everyone is complex. Everyone has layers. Why should you judge him, especially if you still don’t know the full story? You don’t feel like you have the agency to do so. You’ve come here on your own prerogative, because you want to help the helpless. You don’t want to be helpless yourself anymore.
Something dark flashes in his expression again and you feel a chill down your spine.
“Ah, he’s no longer a concern to the organization,” he explains, “He’s just been hoarding money he’s owed from us and then he comes to claim he has none left. So we cut business with him.”
You need to leave, you hear yourself say. You need to leave him. You need to escape. He’s not who he claims he is to you, isn’t he?
Run. An urgent voice reverberates through your head like a gong struck.
“It looked like he was…begging for your help,” you breathe, eyes downcast. “And you didn’t help him. Isn’t that what you do here?”
“We help those who are helpless themselves,” he answers with a sigh, taking your hands in his and drawing patterns into the palm which didn’t hold your phone. “And he isn’t helpless. He’s just run out of luck.”
Run. The voice repeats.
“I see,” you mutter.
“Now, what is it did you want to ask me about?” he asks with that wide smile of his that seems unsettling all of a sudden the longer you stare.
“Oh, um, nothing, I just wanted to ask you about the hotels we were staying at on our trip,” you reply, surprising yourself that you keep your voice even in spite of your heartbeat rapidly increasing and your brain screaming at you to stay away.
RUN! It roars now. You can’t ignore it. You can’t ignore your gut.
“That’s something we can discuss later.” He kisses along your knuckles. “I’ve been called to a few more meetings today. I’ll see you tonight.”
You gulp on a hard lump of nothing, but manage to nod.
“Okay,” you squeak, exiting the exorcism chamber and dashing toward your shared bedroom with Suguru. You don’t even look behind you. You’re just letting your legs carry you to your destination while your mind conjures an escape route.
You need to run. You need to get out. Before things get worse.
You burst through the door of the bedroom, seeking your suitcase which has already been set aside for the trip. You don’t want to think about that anymore. This is the perfect setup; he won’t think you’re leaving, just packing ahead for the trip, right? You doubt he’s that careless, but you can’t be careless, either. You can weasel your way out of here somehow.
You start with the small things. Then rummage through your belongings, tossing them into the suitcase as quick as you can. You freeze when you hear foot falls approaching the room, and you quickly zip up your suitcase, setting it aside.
“I doubt you’re packing ahead. You didn’t pack enough clothes for that here.” Your hairs stand on end as you hear his voice address you. “Are you planning on staying elsewhere?”
“N-no!” You lie through your teeth, whipping around to meet his calculating gaze. “I just wanted to figure out what to pack for the trip, I swear!”
“Then why did you stuff half your wardrobe in your suitcase?” His gaze flits to your backpack. “And your backpack is full of your supplies. I’m not a fool, my love, so don’t take me for one.”
“A-are you upset with me?” you stammer, twiddling your fingers.
“If you ever try to leave me, I’ll break every bone in your body and lock you away so you can’t escape,” he sneers, approaching you in a few long strides until he’s barely inches away from you. He clutches your arms in a tight, vice grip, and you yelp in shock. “Or perhaps I’ll keep you lodged in the throat of that worm curse you saw when we first met. Its useful for storing valuables like my cursed tools…or you.”
“Suguru?” Tears prick the corners of your eyes as now you’re the one cowering. What has happened? You’ve seen some signs and elected to ignore it in favor of giving him the benefit of the doubt, like everyone deserves. And look where that’s got you.
He twists one of your arms so far you can hear a few cracks and pops, and you howl in pain. “You won’t leave me.”
His grip around your arms constricts even more as he releases some of the curses he’s exorcised, surrounding you.
“You won’t leave me,” he repeats, his tone dripping in venom. “Not after you’ve shown me love I never thought I’d ever experience again.”
Again?
You feel the grimy arms of a large curse snake around your ankles and waist.
“You won’t leave me,” he says again, hie eyes darkening with something sinister. “Ever.”
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lovelettersforthedamned · 4 months ago
Note
college!hockey!peter inviting reader to a formal or team dinner or something would be iconic of you 👀👀
The Little Things
✰ college!hockey!peter parker x f!reader
✰ word count: 0.7k
✰ summary: more of peter's soft side comes out when you're invited to his team's banquet.
✰ warnings: language, mention of a bar, reader has hair that can be styled, reader is wearing a dress, a few kisses.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
main m.list ⋆ peter parker m.list ⋆ hockey!peter parker m.list
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gif by @ddlovatosrps
Smoothing out your dress, you sigh at your reflection. You shouldn’t be this nervous, you see Peter and his teammates almost daily. You can’t help but fidget with the edges of the fabric as a text pops up on your phone lighting up with Peter’s name. 
peter🏒: 
here.
Taking one last glance, you grab your purse and head out the door. Opening the door, Peter’s wide frame makes you jump. Whenever he picks you up, he’s usually still in his car, not bothering to walk a few feet to meet you at your door. He’s wearing a classic tuxedo, very different from what you usually see him in, naked or wearing comfortable clothing. Moving his hand from behind his back, he even has a bouquet of flowers. Just in time to replace the ones he got you a few days ago. 
“I didn’t know you could clean up like this, Parker,” you grab the flowers from him and place them on the table next to you, “you look nice.” Extending a hand, you take it as you both walk down the steps, guiding you to the car and even opening the door for you. To say you’re shocked is an understatement. 
Once he closes the door and gets into his seat, he can’t help but lean over and deeply kiss you. He’s holding the side of your neck, careful not to mess up the hair you spent an hour on. You only pull away when you need to catch a breath, “You’re full of surprises today. What’s next? You gonna propose?” You wipe his lips, the color that was once on your lips now transferred to his. 
He smacks your hand away as he wipes the back of his hand to his mouth. “Yeah,” he wipes his mouth again, “keep dreaming, buggy.” 
He starts the car and begins to drive to the banquet hall. The drive was relatively uneventful, besides Peter’s hand playing with your fingers in your lap while he drives. 
Once you’ve arrived, you start to open your door before Peter tells you to stop and jogs over to your side of the car. He pulls open the door as you carefully step down. You thank him before he holds your hand and guides you into the building. 
The room is packed, full of teammates and their families. You weren’t allowed to sit next to Peter, the only person you knew, so you opted to sit next to the other girlfriends of the team. You knew them well enough to engage in small talk, but not enough to be comfortable. 
As Peter took the stage a round of applause filled the air, a smile on his face as he straightened out his jacket. His speech was full of gratitude towards the team and their hard work, pulling a couple of smiles and a few tears from the team. If you didn’t help him write this late last night, you would’ve been impressed. 
The dinner ended and while you two walked out, again hand in hand, Peter asked, “After this, a few of the guys and I are going to that bar near campus if you want to come?” 
“No I’m alright,” you sigh, “I have that essay I need to finish tonight. The research one, remember?” 
He groans and throws his head back, “Oh shit, right. Well, I’ll be home before you go to bed, and I’ll bring you back those gross pretzel bites you love from there for some reason.” 
You giggle before giving him a small kiss, “Aww thank you. Have fun and please don’t get in trouble tonight.” 
“It will not be like last time, I promise,” Peter swears, a small smirk on his face knowing that he definitely will find himself in a sticky situation later. 
He takes you back to yours, giving you another deep kiss as his form of goodbye, complimenting your dress causing your cheeks to warm. You walk up the steps feeling eyes on you the entire way up, it wasn’t until you closed and locked the door behind you that Peter drove away. 
✰ author's note: another beautiful ask by another beautiful anon!! thank you so much for this ask!! if you want to send one in, you can! my ask box is open!! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed. there is more hockey!peter asks, so expect more fics!! ok, ily bye!!!
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acesofspadess · 1 month ago
Text
FIA Awards
AG5 Universe
summary: Ace and Lando are in Rwanda for the FIA Awards
warnings: Ace thirsting over Lando (like the rest of us)
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Spending a few days in Monaco was refreshing, it was nice to be back in her and Lando’s home, doing some errands together. But as soon as they arrived they left for Rwanda for the Prize Giving Ceremony. Ace was there for two prizes this evening which is something she never expected.
“We’re joined by Lando Norris and Ace Giovanelli, how are you both today? Ace you look lovely.” Ace and Lando smiled politely. “She does doesn't she?" Lando agreed, "We’re great, and you?” Lando added sweetly. “Yes we’re great. Are you excited for tonight?”
“Oh yes we are.” Ace spoke up looking at Lando. “We’re very happy to be in new places and Rwanda is a new place for us…”
A day prior….
Ace and Lando were on stream with Max playing Tarkov once again. “Why the hell do we have to fly all the way to Africa?” Lando groaned as his and Ace’s phones buzzed with an itinerary from Zak. “That’s such a long flight.” Ace also groaned. “Well you two must have been doing something right this season to have been invited…"
The opening ceremony was very special to Ace. Being a person of color in this world was hard. Everyday she was fighting 10x harder just because of the color of her skin. Seeing the unashamed culture of the country, from the continent of her ancestors warmed her heart. They would never be able to shut their culture down.
Lando was sitting next to her, in their own row. F1 had their own row in the front. Lando’s hand was interlaced with her left hand brushing over the engagement ring. “This is our first outing being engaged.” Lando whispered to her. Ace looked down at their hands then his face. “And I couldn’t be more honoured to be the most handsome man in the room's fiancé.” Lando blushed lightly at her. He really did look so amazing. 
The first award of the night was Karting Championships and Ace was very ready to see Lando give Kenzo his trophy. Ace watched with heart eyes as Lando spoke and handed out the awards, his engagement band shining in the lights.
“Advice?” Lando repeated as he was asked to give advice to three karting champions, going shy. “I have trouble with these kinds of things, but just do what you continue to do, believe in yourself, you’re holding this trophy for a reason, continue to work hard, and you may take my seat one day.”
Ace smiled as Lando was a natural talent when talking to the younger generation. He stayed to give Kenzo another fan voted award, before he was free from stage duties. “I know Lando was giving out awards, but who does Kenzo look up to the most?” They asked his dad.
“Well, as some may know, Lewis Hamilton, but towards the end of this season he’s said how much he adores Ace Giovanelli. So both of them I would say.” Ace placed a hand to heart at the new information. Her and Lewis were always supporting him, but to hear that he looked up to her was something she never imagined.
Lando came back from behind the stage and sat next to her lacing their hands. “I just gave him an award and he’s trying to steal my wife?” He joked. “You have serious competition, he’s already taken your Karting award.” Lando laughed, bringing their hands to his lips. “I’ll fight for you, if I have to.” Ace shook her head, a feeling of warmth clouding her. “Je t'aime.” She whispered, kissing his hand. They went through the next set of awards and through them Lando just played with her hand and ring discreetly through them.
During the memory of everyone that passed this year Ace got emotional. Everyday would she think of Jules, and what his tragedy did to the world of motor racing. Lando squeezed her hand as he saw her eyes gloss over. 
Ace cheered when Klara won the fan award for WRC. Women were taking this sport over one award at a time. 
Tom then asked Christian about Mclaren and how they did winning this season constructors. After that, they moved onto Formula E. Ace, Lando, and the rest of Mclaren cheered when Sam Bird won the fan award for Formula E.
The next set of awards were rookie of the year but before that were performances from some of Rwanda’s finests. If Ace walked out of here with nothing, she walked out with appreciation for cultural representation. 
Ace was proud to see her name on the rookie list. Max gave the award to Gabriel Borteleto whom Ace had gotten to know as he was a McLaren junior driver and had driven her car in the past. 
Ace was proud when Nyck won, he deserved it after everything that happened in F1 for him. The lifetime achievement award was up next. Mohamed went back up on stage as everyone listened to his small speech. “... she came into this sport and fought endlessly, she is making history every day. Ace Giovanelli is history.” Ace clapped a hand over her shocked face, she did not know what was happening.
“Ace, you made so many milestones this year…” He continued as Lando helped her stand up and get to the stage, she was still in shock. “I don’t deserve this.” She whispered to Mohamed. “Oh, yes you do.” He shook her off. “Now, Ace this was surprise but I want to show everyone a video of why you were chosen for this.”
The lights dimmed as the room hushed in anticipation. A video began to play on the massive screen behind them, the opening frame showing a black-and-white photo of a young Ace Giovanelli in her karting gear, a determined glint in her eye.
The montage began with clips of Ace's early karting days, weaving through tight corners with precision and winning junior championships.
A voiceover from Alain Prost played: "Even then, you could see she had something special—a fire, an intuition for racing that can’t be taught. She was destined for greatness."
The screen transitioned to her F3 debut, a young Ace climbing out of her car after a podium finish, grinning ear to ear. Moments from her F2 career followed: her first win, her daring overtakes, and the celebrations with her team as she secured the championship title.
"Ace came into F2 like a storm," said Max in an interview clip. "She dominated, she inspired, and most importantly, she paved the way for others. Watching her was like seeing a masterpiece in motion."
The footage shifted to her in F1. The McLaren garage erupted in cheers as Ace crossed the finish line in P1 in the Qatar Sprint in her rookie season.
"I’ll never forget her first podium in Formula 1," Charles shared in his segment. "She wasn’t just fast—she was fearless. She outbraked me and I thought, ‘Okay, this isn’t just a rookie. This is a future champion.’"
The montage grew more emotional as it chronicled her historic first win at Hungary. The screen showed Ace standing atop the podium, tears streaming as the Monegasque anthem played. Then came the images of her claiming the Constructors' Championship with McLaren, the first female driver to achieve that feat.
"Ace changed the narrative," said Lando Norris. "She didn’t just break records—she shattered ceilings. Being her teammate has been the honour of my life."
The video slowed, showing personal moments: Ace helping young girls at karting academies, mentoring junior drivers, and celebrating with her family and friends.
The final clip was her second GP victory, the race where she clinched P3 in the Drivers' Championship. As she stepped out of the car, fists raised high, the roar of the crowd was deafening.
The montage ended with a simple quote from Ace herself: "It’s not about being the first woman to do these things—it’s about ensuring I’m not the last."
The room erupted in applause as the lights came back on. Ace stood frozen, tears streaming as Mohamed gently nudged her forward.
Mohamed smiled warmly. “Ace, this award is not just for your incredible achievements on track. It’s for your resilience, your trailblazing spirit, and the inspiration you’ve given to generations of fans and drivers alike. You’ve changed the sport forever.”
The crowd rose in a standing ovation as Ace took the microphone, still overwhelmed, her voice trembling as she began to speak.
“Wow. I… I truly don’t know what to say. This is such an incredible honor, and I’m still not sure I deserve it. But standing here, looking at all of you, I feel so overwhelmed with gratitude.”
Ace paused, her voice thick with emotion. “Racing has been my life for as long as I can remember. From those early karting days in Monaco and France, dreaming about one day driving on the streets I grew up on, to standing on the podium there… it’s been a journey of passion, perseverance, and a lot of help along the way.”
Ace smiled, her eyes finding Lando and Max in the audience. “To my teammates, my mentors, my rivals—you’ve all pushed me to be better, faster, stronger. I wouldn’t be the driver or the person I am without you. And to the woman in motorsports… you’re the heart of this award. Thank you for believing in me, even when I doubted myself.”
Her tone softened as she looked down at the award in her hands. “This really isn’t just for me. This is for every girl who was told she didn’t belong here. For every kid who dared to dream of something bigger. If my journey proves anything, it’s that there’s no limit to what you can achieve when you fight for it.”
She straightened, her voice clear and firm. “I promise to keep fighting—to keep pushing boundaries, to keep paving the way, and to keep making history. Not for me, but for all of us.”
The room erupted in applause, the sound echoing as Ace stepped back, her smile radiant and her heart full. As she walked off the stage people took pictures of her with her award before she was headed back to her seat. “I love you. Thank you.” She whispered to the three boys next to her. “You deserve it Ace.” Max said, squeezing her hand.
More awards for the WRC were next. Then was the FIA presidents award. Ace was still in shock when they transitioned into the Formula 1 section of the night. The video played of F2 and F3 championship battles. 
The championship awards were given to Gabriel and Invicta. Then it was time for F1. First was the fan award for Action of the Year award. Ace and Lando looked at each other when Monza came up. They could laugh about it now, but then it was a little rough. 
Before they announced they moved onto Tom who was speaking with a Ferrari driver from a different motorsport. Checo ended up winning the fan award, before they moved onto highlights of the year.
The video was very well put together. This season was definitely one to remember. Max got his special moments which Ace made sure to poke his leg at, knowing he hated it. They showed how the season started as another Max run, but then Carlos in Australia and Charles in Monaco and Monza and Cota played, then went back to Carlos in Mexico.
Then it went to Mercedes, showing Geroge and Lewis’ epic wins at the beginning of the season. Then the famous papaya colour filled the screen.
“Enter McLaren.”
It showed Lando’s amazing win in Miami, then the rough win in Hungary. Then back to Lando in Zandvoort, then her in Azerbaijan where they took P1 in constructors. Then Lando again in Singapore.
“McLaren's rise was volcanic.” 
“It brought a new battle, Max versus Lando.”
Ace hated watching this back, it was hard enough watching her two best friends go at it and risking their lives. But it got happy again when they showed Max winning the WDC for the 4th time. Then it went into Abu Dhabi.
“Who will we crown the constructors.”
It went into Max and Ace’s crash in the start and showed a few clips of her recovery mixed in with Landos race. 
The video turned off after showing the team's post celebrations. “Wow, what an amazing year as a fan. First we present our third place.” 
“Yes, she took massive wins in Hungary and Baku, ladies and gentleman, Ace Giovanelli.” Ace walked out waving to the audience before greeting the presenters. 
“Ace, such a great season for you and for Mclaren. Down to the last race and ending up champions, it must make you hungry to go at it again.”
She nodded her head with a wide smile. “Yes, definitely hungry for next year. We were fighting with Ferrari until the very last race but the season ended in our favour with amazing drives from Lando and I. I’ve achieved so many things this season, my first wins and then the constructors. I was on the podium in my home race next to Charles, it was everything to me, hopefully next year we can switch spots,” she laughed softly, “but I’m very ready to fight for more wins and even for the drivers championships next season, and hold onto the constructors.” She finished and they thanked her as she walked off with a small wave.
After her speech she walked off the stage but stayed on the side to watch Lando take his award. Everyone was so proud of him, for fighting like a champion everyone knew he would become. “I retract that comment that said it was all luck. The media likes to change things.” He disclaimed almost immediately.
They rolled Lando’s car on stage behind him which made Ace very happy. “Can we bring Ace back out please.”
She walked back out and stood next to Lando who kissed her cheek in greeting. Zak and Andrea came on stage soon after, and they four alongside the president of Rwanda and Mohamed took pictures.
Zak spoke for them, “Of course we’ve been celebrating, here in Rwanda. The weekend was fantastic there in Abu Dhabi, the team, myself and Andrea, everyone at the factory did an amazing job. The fight put up by the competition was amazing. Ferrari kept us honest until the very last lap. It’s just very nice being here and accepting awards and making history and getting it done after 26 years.”
“Well, thank you very much. Congratulations again.”
They exited the stage and Ace cheered quite loudly for Max when he was called on stage. 
“... both Lando and Ace brought the fight, and it looks like they’ll bring again next year.” When he walked off the stage Ace and Lando faked wrestling the trophy from him. “Alright you two, at least let me have it until the new season.”
At the end they took a photo of all the winners and runner ups. Ace wasn’t sure how she ended up with two trophies that night but she did. Walking out of the auditorium she was stopped many times. Many people congratulated her for her Lifetime Achievement award, P3 in the drivers, and her and Lando’s engagement. She gave as many hugs as possible with two giant awards in her hands. Her, Lando, Zak, and Andrea were pulled to the ‘blue carpet’ to take photos of them and their trophies. 
The first one was just Ace and her two awards, then Lando and his runner up award. The two of them together with the constructors and their personal awards, all four of them together, then the last one was just Zak and Andrea with the constructors. Ace and Lando also took one with Max in podium order.
They all went to a different room for dinner once awards were given to some officials. F1 was sat together as normal, and Ace and Kelly spent the night taking pictures of everything and everyone. The night was filled with delicious foods and enough laughter for months. This may have been the end of the season, but it was just the beggining of everything that was to come.
~~~
taglist: @unlikelystay
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obsidian-pages777 · 8 months ago
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Pick a Card:Whats Next in your Love Life? Pick a Guitarist
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Left to Right Top Row- Pile 1->Pile 2 Left to Right Bottom Row- Pile 3-> Pile 4
[Bonus: Keanu Reeves Gifs for each pile]
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=============================
Pile 1: The Lovers, The Magician, The Star
Drawing The Lovers suggests that aligning yourself with the energy of love is crucial. This card signifies not only romantic love but also harmony and balance within yourself. It's essential to cultivate self-love and embrace your own worth. By loving and respecting yourself, you naturally attract similar energy from others. The Lovers also hint at making a significant choice in love, suggesting that being clear about what you want in a partner and relationship can draw the right person into your life.
The Magician card indicates that you have the power and resources within you to attract love. This card is a reminder that you can create your reality through focused intention and action. Utilize your skills, talents, and personal power to manifest the love you desire. The Star, as the final card in this pile, offers hope and reassurance. It suggests that by staying optimistic and keeping faith in the process, you can attract a fulfilling and beautiful love into your life. Healing past wounds and maintaining a positive outlook will set the stage for new romantic opportunities.
The Adventurous Partner
Loves Travel and Exploration: Always ready for the next adventure, whether it's a weekend road trip or an international journey.
Spontaneous: Enjoys making last-minute plans and trying new activities.
Outgoing and Sociable: Thrives in social settings and enjoys meeting new people.
Active Lifestyle: Prefers outdoor activities and physical challenges, such as hiking, biking, or water sports.
Optimistic and Open-minded: Approaches life with a positive attitude and a willingness to embrace new experiences.
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Pile 2: The Empress, Two of Cups, Ace of Pentacles
The Empress card represents abundance, beauty, and nurturing energy. To attract love, embody the qualities of the Empress by nurturing yourself and others, and by creating a warm and inviting environment. This card encourages you to tap into your feminine energy, regardless of gender, and to focus on self-care and personal growth. The Empress also suggests that you might find love through activities that involve creativity, nature, or caregiving.
The Two of Cups signifies the possibility of a new romantic connection or deepening an existing relationship. It is a card of partnership and mutual attraction. By being open to connections and putting yourself in situations where you can meet new people, you increase your chances of encountering someone special. The Ace of Pentacles indicates a new beginning in the material realm, suggesting that practical steps towards building a secure and stable life can attract love. This could mean focusing on career or financial goals, creating a solid foundation for a future relationship.
The Intellectual Partner
Highly Educated: Values learning and often engaged in intellectual pursuits.
Curious and Inquisitive: Always eager to explore new ideas and deepen their understanding of various topics.
Excellent Communicator: Enjoys deep conversations and can articulate their thoughts clearly and thoughtfully.
Ambitious and Goal-Oriented: Driven to achieve their professional and personal goals.
Thoughtful and Analytical: Makes decisions based on careful consideration and analysis.
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Pile 3: The Hermit, Queen of Cups, Knight of Pentacles
The Hermit card suggests that attracting love into your life might require a period of introspection and solitude. This time alone is meant for self-discovery and understanding what you truly want and need in a relationship. By gaining clarity about your desires and values, you can attract a partner who aligns with your true self. The Hermit encourages you to be patient and trust that the right person will come when you are ready.
The Queen of Cups represents emotional depth, intuition, and compassion. Embracing these qualities within yourself can help you attract a partner who appreciates and reciprocates them. This card encourages you to be open to expressing your feelings and to nurture your emotional well-being. The Knight of Pentacles emphasizes the importance of patience and consistency. Attracting love might require steady, deliberate effort, such as gradually building a friendship that can evolve into something more. Focus on creating a stable and dependable environment that will naturally draw a like-minded partner to you.
The Nurturing Partner
Empathetic and Compassionate: Highly sensitive to the feelings of others and always ready to offer support and comfort.
Family-Oriented: Values close relationships with family and friends and prioritizes these connections.
Patient and Understanding: Exhibits great patience and a deep understanding of human emotions and behaviors.
Loyal and Reliable: Extremely dependable and trustworthy, always there when you need them.
Gentle and Kind: Treats everyone with kindness and respect, creating a warm and loving environment.
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Pile 4: The Fool, Page of Cups, Ten of Pentacles
The Fool card suggests that attracting love into your life might involve taking a leap of faith and being open to new experiences. Embrace spontaneity and be willing to step out of your comfort zone. This card encourages you to approach love with a sense of adventure and a fresh perspective. By being open-minded and willing to take risks, you can attract exciting and unexpected romantic opportunities.
The Page of Cups represents new beginnings in love and emotional openness. It encourages you to be playful, creative, and receptive to the messages your heart is sending you. By embracing a youthful and optimistic attitude towards love, you can attract positive and heartwarming connections. The Ten of Pentacles indicates that focusing on long-term stability and building a strong foundation can help you attract love. This card suggests that envisioning a future filled with abundance, security, and family can draw a partner who shares these values. Creating a vision for your ideal relationship and working towards it can manifest the love you seek.
The Creative Partner
Artistic and Imaginative: Possesses a strong creative streak, whether in the arts, music, writing, or other creative fields.
Passionate and Expressive: Lives life with passion and isn’t afraid to show their emotions and express themselves.
Innovative Thinker: Comes up with unique and unconventional solutions to problems.
Appreciates Beauty: Has a keen eye for beauty in the world, from nature to art and design.
Open-Minded and Flexible: Welcomes different perspectives and adapts easily to change.
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gale-force-storm · 6 months ago
Text
Anticipation
Rating: E Pairing: Gale x female!Tav Additional Tags: Regency AU, pwp, oral sex, PIV, gale being a tease Word Count: 7.3k
Read it on AO3
Tav has learned that her fiance, Gale, likes to take things slowly when sharing pleasure. He claims he's only being gentlemanly, but she knows he just enjoys teasing her. This makes it all the more exciting when his own restraint finally snaps.
Inspired by this post by the lovely @waterdeep-weavemoss
Tav tried to be as quiet as she could while descending the stairs heading to the study. It was late enough that no one else should be awake, not even the staff, but one couldn't be too careful. She thought back to the note Gale had slipped her earlier, which she'd hidden away amongst her things.
“My heart, I long for your touch. I will be in the study once everyone else is asleep. I hope you will join me.”
Her heart pounded. Gale put up an excellent front, acting the perfect gentleman when necessary, but she knew first-hand there was a passion simmering just below that composed surface. Even the first time they had kissed, he had shown such intensity. The way he had pulled her close, the small sounds he had made, the desire behind every movement of his lips and tongue against hers, it had stolen her breath away and left her aching for more. More which he had soon given.
She bit her lip, remembering the night when they managed to sneak away from a ball for a full hour, before they were even engaged. He had led her into a library, kissed her breathless, and brought her to completion with his fingers, muffling her sounds of pleasure with his mouth. Despite the rushed nature of the meeting, he had been so careful and methodical with her, like she was the only thing in the world he cared about in that moment. That feeling combined with the pleasure he'd given her was intoxicating, and it was that memory and the hope for more which drew her to the bottom of the stairs and down the corridor to the door of his study. She opened it slowly, relieved that the hinges didn't squeak, and peeked in. No lamps or candles were lit, but the curtains for the large window on the other side of the room were open, letting in ample moonlight.
“Hello?” she whispered. Upon getting no reply she entered entirely, carefully closing the door behind her. Was she too early? Or worse, too late? She looked around for a moment, trying not to fret, when she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and yelped, but another warm hand quickly covered her mouth, muffling the sound.
“Shh, it's only me, my love,” assured a rich voice in her ear. Instantly she relaxed, turning around to face him.
“Don't startle me like that!” she whispered furiously, swatting at his shoulder. Gale only chuckled.
“My apologies,” he murmured. He looked at her for a long moment, the heat in his eyes holding her in place. “I'm glad you came to join me,” he finally said.
“As though I would turn down such an invitation from my betrothed,” she replied mischievously. “Especially when he's as enticing as you are.” She looked him up and down, pulse quickening at the sight. He was down to his trousers and shirt, the latter open and giving a tantalizing glimpse of his chest, bronze skin and dark hair peeking out teasingly.
“Me, enticing?” he asked, breaking her from her reverie. “Have you looked at yourself this evening?” He brought up one hand, running it through her hair. She was still dressed, but she had taken her hair down, and it fell past her shoulders in loose, dark ringlets. “You are stunning. Utterly irresistible.”
He curled his other index finger under her chin and pulled her into a kiss. Tav melted into it, into the feeling of his mouth against hers, the warmth as she pressed herself closer to his body. They were both breathing harder when they finally parted.
“So, Mr. Dekarios, what exactly did you intend, calling me down to meet you at such an hour? And unchaperoned, no less?” she asked teasingly.
While one of his hands was still buried in her hair, the other moved down to grip her hip, holding her close. Her own hands rested on his broad shoulders, one of them toying with his tied back hair which she longed to see let down.
He grinned in return. “I told you in my note, did I not? I long for you.”
Tav raised a brow. “That's not terribly specific.”
Gale chuckled again. “I know it will only be a month and a fortnight before we are wed,” he relented, “but every time I'm with you I am nearly overcome with desire. I was hoping you might allow me to slake my thirst, and provide a small taste of things to come.”
“Oh? And how do you propose to do that?”
“By drinking from the finest font in all of creation,” he replied. His grip on her hip tightened and he pulled her fully flush against him, leaning to whisper in her ear. “I wish to taste you, my sweet Tavrielle. I've shown you what I can do with just my fingers, now allow me to demonstrate how skilled I am with my tongue.”
Tav gasped, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. Neither of them were completely inexperienced, she knew. Gale's reputation as a former favorite of Lady Mystra's had preceded him, and Tav herself had partaken in a couple subtler and shorter-lived trysts, but no one had ever used their mouth on her before. She felt herself flush at the thought.
“Is that something you would like, dearest?” he asked, his breath against her skin making her shiver.
“Yes,” she sighed in reply. Gale’s grin was wolfish when he pulled away.
“Have a seat then, my darling,” he said, gesturing to a plush-looking armchair in the nearest corner of the room. Tav went and sat down, and Gale knelt in front of her, looking up at her with an expression so full of desire and wonder that it nearly made her dizzy. He pulled one of her feet into his lap and gently pulled off her shoe, placing it to the side. He then ran his hands up her leg to her knee and untied the garter holding up her stocking, slowly pulling them down and off. He folded them and placed them next to her shoe before switching to her other leg and following the same procedure. That done, he gently massaged her ankle, then her calf. He leaned in and kissed her knee over her skirt and looked up at her for approval. Tav took a shuddering breath and nodded. He started to pull up her skirt and petticoat, but a thought suddenly struck her.
“Wait,” she said quietly. Gale stopped immediately, looking up at her again.
“What is it, my love?”
Tav leaned down slightly and reached behind his head, pulling lightly on his ponytail.
“Might I untie this? I would so dearly like to see it down.”
Gale's slight concern melted into a smile. “Of course. Though if you do, you'll need to hold my hair out of the way yourself for the next part.”
Tav swallowed. “I'd be happy to.” She removed the tie from his hair with a short tug, enjoying the way the waves fanned out behind him. “You're so lovely,” she breathed, running her fingers through the soft strands. Gale leaned into the touch, closing his eyes briefly in a way that reminded her of nothing so much as a cat.
“Not half so lovely as you,” he countered, opening his eyes again. “Speaking of, may I?” He pulled lightly at her skirt.
“Please,” she breathed.
Gale smirked and moved his focus back to her skirt and petticoat, which he started slowly pushing up her legs together. Once they were pooled in her lap, not quite revealing her, he paused and began kissing along one calf, her knee, and halfway up her thigh. Tav resisted the noises trying to rise in her throat, what might have been moans coming out as quiet whimpers and panted breaths. When he switched to the other leg, she began to grow impatient.
“Gale,” she whined. “Please.”
Gale pressed a gentling kiss to her knee. “Patience, lovely. We have plenty of time before anyone else is awake. Let me savour you.”
With that he went back to his leisurely exploration, gradually kissing - and occasionally nipping - higher and higher up her legs. She spread them wider, making room for his shoulders, but this allowed her skirts to fall down between them, keeping her covered despite Gale pushing them further up. Finally they were hitched all the way up to her hips, a small pool of fabric settled between her legs. Gale placed his hand on the fabric, shooting one last heated look up at her before moving it aside and revealing her to him.
Tav might have felt self-conscious about the way he stared if his expression hadn't been one of a starving man presented with the most sumptuous meal of his life. He reached up and caressed one side lightly with a thumb, then moved the digit further, dipping it into the moisture that had been pooling since the start of his teasing. Tav held her breath as he used that thumb to hold her open while he finally leaned in and firmly licked over her center. Tav whimpered at the sensation, and had to cover her own mouth with her hand to muffle herself when Gale moaned at the taste of her. He licked again, this time ending with a flick of his tongue against the little bundle of nerves that set her aflame before pulling away slightly.
“Jove himself could not conceive of nectar sweet as this,” he murmured, almost seemingly to himself. Then suddenly he was pulling her legs up, hooking her knees over his shoulders before diving in properly.
Tav tried to squirm under him, but his fingers dug greedily into the plushness of her thighs, holding her firmly in place. One of her hands remained in his hair, gripping and holding it back from his face. The other remained resolutely over her mouth, muffling the sounds of her pleasure as Gale devoured her. He hadn't been lying about being skilled with his tongue. Every movement sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through her. The way he alternated between thrusting it into her, licking deep while his nose rubbed against her deliciously, and flicking it against that sensitive bud while he sucked on it, made Tav want to scream. A feeling not helped by the way he kept moaning himself, as though she was the finest wine he'd ever tasted. The vibrations rumbled through her, amplifying her pleasure. She knew she wouldn't last long like this.
Sure enough, within a few minutes she felt the telltale pressure building. Her hand tightened in his hair and, despite her best efforts, her sounds grew louder.
“Gale,” she panted. “Gale I- I'm close. So close I- ah!”
Gale increased his efforts at her words, his tongue moving more quickly, pressing more insistently. He moved his tongue in a toe-curling wave inside her, his nose rubbing perfectly against that sensitive point. She fluttered around him, right on the precipice. He moaned at the feeling, and that was enough for her to let go, choking back her own moans as she arched against his mouth, riding out her pleasure on his tongue. She shuddered as she came down, his continued movements too much for her oversensitive flesh, so she pulled him away by his hair. He rested his head on her thigh, looking up at her, face covered with her slick, grinning like a cat who'd just feasted on the richest cream. He stroked her thighs soothingly, pressing kisses into them as she recovered.
“You enjoyed yourself, I hope?” he asked with a cocky smile. She'd be annoyed by how smug he looked if that smugness wasn't so justified.
“You are far too good at that,” she panted.
“Nothing I do could ever be too good for you, my heart.”
“You're also far too charming for either of our own good,” she replied with a small laugh. “Come up here?”
Gale moved to give her room and she stood, her skirts falling back down. As she attempted to straighten herself out a bit and pull her stockings and shoes back on, Gale pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the worst of the mess from his face. He settled in the chair in Tav's place and pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling into her neck. Tav turned his face with a hand, pulling him into a kiss and moaning at the taste of herself on his tongue.
“You're incredible,” she murmured once she pulled away.
“I was about to say the same to you,” he replied.
“I was wondering,” Tav said, running her other hand slowly up his thigh. “Might you permit me to return the favour?” She could feel the eager press of him against her thigh, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, knowing how much he had enjoyed feasting on her.
His hand landed on hers, gently pausing its movement.
“You don't have to,” he replied. “I asked to taste you as much for my own gratification as yours. You do not owe me anything in return.”
“And if I want to do it?” she asked, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Have you considered that I may enjoy the idea of bringing you pleasure, just as you do with me? That I may find my own pleasure in doing so?”
“I...” Gale licked his lips. “I simply don't want you to feel obligated.”
“I don't,” Tav replied simply. “The only thing I feel is desire.” She shifted, letting her thigh press more firmly against his harness, and she relished the gasp it drew from him and the way his hands tightened on her.
“Tavrielle,” he rasped.
Tav leaned in, letting her lips brush his ear.
“You aren’t the only one with a thirst to be slaked,” she whispered.
Gale groaned deep in his throat, letting his head fall briefly to her shoulder. He pressed a kiss there, nipping lightly before meeting her eyes once more.
“If this is truly what you wish, then who am I to deny you?”
Tav grinned. “Precisely.”
She let herself slide off his lap, settling on her knees on the floor in front of him. Her hands went straight to the buttons for the fall of his trousers, and she enjoyed the shuddering breath he took when she pulled it down and parted his drawers, freeing him. She licked her lips at the sight. He was already fully erect, jutting up eagerly from his lap. He wasn’t egregiously large, but he was by no means small either, and she pressed her legs together at the thought that she would be taking him properly in the near future. She wrapped a hand around him, pumping softly a couple of times and enjoying the silken hardness of him. She looked up to his face and found him flushed and panting already, one hand tightly gripping the arm of the chair, the other curled into a fist and pressed to his mouth, muffling him. Smirking, she held eye contact as she leaned in and licked up from the base to the head, and Gale let out a whine as his eyes fluttered momentarily closed. Slowly, Tav pressed her lips to the tip and leaned forward, letting his cock slide into her mouth as far as she could, and making up the rest of the distance with her hand.
“Tavrielle,” Gale panted. “Tav...”
Tav hummed around him in acknowledgement, making him shudder beneath her. She reached a hand up towards his where it still gripped the arm of the chair. She took it gently, guiding it instead to tangle in her hair. Gale hesitated briefly, but acquiesced to her silent request, slipping his fingers into the strands and gripping, pulling slightly and making her moan. Still aware of the risk of getting caught, low as it might be, Tav quickly began moving, sliding her mouth over him. She tried out different movements of her tongue to see what got the best reactions out of him, quietly humming and moaning around him and loving the way it made him twitch beneath her, clearly trying to keep himself from bucking up into her mouth. She moved her hand in time with her mouth, the other gripping and kneading at his hip. With all of this, it didn’t take long for him to begin tensing beneath her, his sounds of pleasure growing harder to muffle.
“Tav,” he gasped, “I’m- ah! I’m close to... Please I- how do you want me to...?” He looked down at her, eyes wide and pupils blown, face flushed and brows drawn in pleasure. Tav enjoyed the sight for a moment before letting him slip from her mouth.
“I told you before, did I not? I wish for you to sate my thirst as well.” With that she took him in again, grinning around him at his answering whimper. A few more pumps and clever flicks of her tongue and he was finishing in her mouth with a high, muffled sound, gripping her hair and twitching beneath her as she eagerly swallowed his release. She gentled the movements of her mouth, though kept him held there as he recovered until he pulled her off and back up into his lap, kissing her breathlessly.
“You are a wonder,” he panted between kisses. “Incredible. Perfection itself. I am the luckiest man in the world to have you as my betrothed.”
Tav laughed breathlessly against his lips, flustered and blushing at the praise.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said once he finally pulled away.
“Enjoyed in an understatement,” he replied earnestly, now nuzzling into her neck. They stayed like that for a few long minutes, enjoying the warmth and closeness, until eventually Gale sighed.
“I long to be able to hold you like this as we drift to sleep,” he said quietly. “I know the day will come soon, but it does not feel soon enough.”
Tav ran her fingers through his hair soothingly, scratching lightly over his scalp.
“But soon nonetheless,” she soothed. “And the wait will only make it feel all the sweeter, when the time does come.”
Gale sighed beneath her again. “I suppose you’re right. But until then, I’m afraid we should retire back to our rooms before anyone else wakes.” He held her more tightly for a moment before pulling back to allow her up. Tav sighed in return, knowing he was correct, but loath to leave the comfort of his embrace. Nevertheless she rose from his lap, checking her skirt to make sure it hadn’t been stained with any signs of their meeting. Gale, meanwhile, refastened his fall and stood. They stared at each other longingly for a moment before moving in for a lingering kiss.
“Mayhaps next time we can find a way to actually meet in a room with a bed,” she proposed mischievously. Gale chuckled darkly.
“A dangerous proposition, but a very tempting one. I long to spend an entire evening and night in bed with you.”
“Then I suppose we must find a way to make such a thing happen. Though for now, I fear we really should return to our rooms.” She leaned up and pressed one last gentle kiss to his lips. “Goodnight, Gale,” she whispered.
“Goodnight, my beloved,” he replied, gazing after her longingly as she quietly exited the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next time they found themselves alone together, they had planned it out more thoroughly, to hopefully have several hours alone together and the ability to meet in an actual bedroom. The others were all gone to a ball and not expected home until quite late. Gale pretended that some urgent business matter had come up which he regrettably needed to attend to, away at his office, and Tav had claimed to have a terrible headache which required her to pass up the ball in favor of some rest. She had insisted, however, that the others all still go. She would be sleeping, after all, and she didn't want anyone missing out on an evening of fun to watch her do so. Gale had even given Tara the night off, insisting that as everyone would be gone until late anyway, they had little need of her that evening.
Gale went out to supposedly ready a horse while everyone else left, and once they were gone he went straight back inside and up to the room Tav was staying in. He found her in front of the mirror, pulling the pins from her hair. She watched him in the mirror as he locked the door and walked up behind her.
“I had rather hoped to help you with this,” he said, reaching up to pull another pin out and setting it on the vanity table in front of her.
“My apologies. If I had known, I would have waited for you.”
They worked together quietly, the anticipation palpable, and soon Tav’s hair was down. Gale slid a hand into it and leaned down, nuzzling into her neck and making her shiver pleasantly. He moved out of the way as she stood, turning around to face him. A single step and they met in a heated kiss. Tav was eager, pressing into Gale and nipping at his bottom lip, but Gale was unhurried, keeping their pace slow and leisurely. He said nothing as Tav reached up to untie his cravat, but he chuckled as she started undoing the buttons of his coat.
“Eager, are we?”
“Are you not?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. Gale grinned in return.
“Oh, I am. But that does not mean we must rush, does it?” He pushed gently yet firmly, urging her to sit back down. Once she did, he knelt in front of her and began as he had at their previous meeting, carefully removing her shoes and stockings and setting them aside. Tav was hopeful that he would follow this up by attending to her with his mouth, but instead he stood, helping her back to standing as well.
“Turn around for me, please?”
Tav did so, and felt him undoing the buttons on the back of her dress. Once that was done, he helped her to step out of it and carefully placed it aside. Next were her stays, which he attended to with equal care. He pressed soft, almost chaste kisses to her shoulders as he carefully loosened the ties, until eventually this too was able to be removed. Before he could continue, however, Tav spun in his arms and pulled him in for a kiss. The anticipation was unbearable — she needed him to touch her. Needed to touch him. To see and feel and taste.
“Please,” she sighed, pulling away slightly. “I want you so badly. Please, let me-”
Her hands moved towards his trousers, but he caught them in his own, pulling them up to place kisses to her knuckles. Gentle as the action was, his hold on her was firm, and his lips slid into a smirk that only fueled the flames inside her. A smirk which completely betrayed the false innocence in his voice when he spoke.
“Patience, my love. I only wish to treat you with the proper care and attention. Too much haste would be untoward, do you not agree? If we are to anticipate our vows, I must insist on doing so in the most gentlemanly manner possible, with only the utmost conscientiousness. So, gentleman that I am...” He leaned in, still holding her hands between them, his lips brushing her ear. “I’m going to take my time with you.”
Tav couldn’t help but whimper at that, and she could feel Gale’s answering grin against her, followed by a kiss to her cheekbone.
“You may undress me,” he continued, voice heated yet steady, like coals waiting to be stoked into flame. “However, I ask that you go slowly. Gratifying as your excitement is, we have several hours to ourselves, yet. We can afford to savour this.”
Tav nodded and took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. Gale pulled back, his warm eyes dark with desire and sparkling with mischief.
“Can you do that for me, my dearest?”
“Yes,” Tav breathed.
“Very good.” Gale kissed her knuckles again, then let her hands go.
Tav began with his coat. Having already undone the buttons, she simply slid it off and placed it on a nearby chair. His waistcoat was next. Her progress was slow, both because of his order, and because the urgency of her arousal was making her fingers clumsy. Soon enough that too was gone, laid aside with the coat. She walked over to the bed, looking back at him.
“Sit for me, please?”
“Of course.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, and Tav knelt in front of him to take off his boots. As she did, she felt one of his hands slide through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp.
“You’re doing wonderfully,” he murmured softly. Tav swallowed and, unable to find her voice, kissed his knee in response.
Boots, then stockings and garters were set aside. Tav stood and reached for his shirt questioningly. He nodded. The linen was pulled out from where it was tucked in, and dropped aside. Tav took a long moment to admire him. Fit, yet pleasantly soft. Olive-skinned, with a delightful sweep of hair over his chest that she ached to run her fingers through. Pulling her focus back to the task at hand, she reached for his trousers, only for Gale to catch her hands once more.
“Ah- not quite yet, my love. May I?” He held both her hands in one of his, using the other to tug lightly at her slip.
“Please,” she said, unabashed in her eagerness.
Gale grinned, that wolfish smile that never failed to send a rush of moisture between her legs. He lifted the bottom hem, letting Tav pull it up and off the rest of the way, leaving her completely bare. Immediately his hands were on her, caressing from her hip, over her waist, up to her ribs and back down again as he stared at her with a heady mix of wonder and hunger.
“You are stunning,” he said quietly. “A greater masterpiece than any painter or sculptor could ever hope to create.”
Tav placed a hand over one of his and slowly drew it up to cup her breast. Gale licked his lips and squeezed lightly, enjoying the softness and weight of it. His other hand slid around her back and pulled her closer, letting him bury his face in her chest. Tav let out a quiet, pleased noise, her hand going to Gale’s hair and pulling it loose before burying her fingers in it, holding him close. Gale turned his head and began working his way across one curve with sucking, nipping kisses, eventually finding a nipple and wrapping his lips around it. Tav started to moan, but quickly brought a hand over her mouth, suddenly remembering that there was still staff in the house, and they still needed to try to avoid being overheard. Gale clearly was not concerned with making this easy for her, sucking one nipple while using his fingers to pinch at the other, leaving Tav to catch her whimpers with her hand. She leaned her hips forward, aching for contact, and found her thigh brushing against Gale’s hardness. He groaned into her chest and shifted forward, rubbing more firmly against her thigh and letting her feel plainly just how excited he truly was.
With a final nip to her breast he pulled his mouth away and pushed her back slightly, giving himself room to stand. He was flushed down to his chest and his breathing came heavily as he looked into her eyes. Tav placed her hands on his chest and slowly ran them down his body, one settling on his waist while the other continued down to cup him through his trousers, squeezing lightly and making him groan.
“May I?” she asked, voice no more than a breathy whisper. Gale looked at her for a long moment before finally saying the words she was aching to hear.
“You may.”
Buttons and ties were undone, fabric discarded, and finally he was bare before her. She had seen his member before of course, but seeing his body in its entirety took her breath away. She was sure her expression must mirror the one he’d had only minutes ago when her slip was removed.
Tav leaned in and Gale caught her by the waist, turning them around and laying her down on the bed, climbing up himself to lay over her.
“My beautiful Tavrielle,” he sighed, gently stroking her cheek. “I’ve been dreaming of your taste since the other night. Would you allow me to indulge once again?”
“Please,” she replied emphatically.
He kissed his way down her body while she tried not to squirm, and they moaned in unison when his mouth finally reached its destination. It was somehow even better than she remembered, the tension from his teasing slowness heightening the intensity of every sensation. She quickly cupped a hand back over her mouth to muffle the cries which came unbidden from her throat as he lapped at her eagerly.
“I cannot wait for the day when you need not muffle yourself, and I can fully enjoy the beautiful sounds you make for me,” Gale murmured against her before diving back in. His words drove her higher, closer to the precipice, and she knew she wasn’t going to last long like this. She fluttered against his mouth and he moaned, the vibrations rushing through her. He ran two fingers teasingly through her folds before sliding them into her easily. His lips latched around her sensitive pearl while his fingers curled inside her, rubbing against just the right spot, and all too soon she was shuddering apart, hips twitching up to chase the glorious pleasure of his mouth.
He finally relented once she started shuddering with the residual waves, and moved back up to lay over her once more. He kissed her deeply, the taste of her arousal lingering on his lips and tongue. He moved, and his cock slid through her slick, oversensitive folds, causing them both to moan. They broke apart, and it was clear from the expression on his face that the will to continue teasing her had fully faded.
“I need you,” he rasped. “My darling Tav, I need you. May I?”
In lieu of a verbal answer, Tav reached down and took hold of him, causing him to gasp. She positioned him at her entrance, and he leaned in for another kiss at the same time he pressed his hips forward, finally sheathing himself inside her. Their mouths parted again as they moaned, the sensation overwhelming.
“Oh Tav...”
“Gale, please move, I need-”
He heeded her request immediately, pulling back before pressing back in, grunting in pleased surprise when she suddenly snapped her hips up to meet his thrust, quickly burying him to the hilt. Their movements sped quickly, all trace of patience gone as they finally lost themselves in each other. They did their best to stifle their sounds of pleasure, and soon found that the best way to do so was simply to keep their mouths otherwise occupied, kissing over each other’s mouths and faces and necks and shoulders. Their pace was quick, Gale’s movements firm, though not rough. Tav luxuriated in the sensations, his warmth above her, the way his soft hair curtained their faces, the firm grip of his hands holding her steady for him, and of course, the waves of pleasure that flooded her with every thrust of his hips as he filled her perfectly again and again. By the time she felt him start to tense and his movements grow less steady, she was nearing the peak again herself. Gale groaned lowly as he took a moment to grind into her deeply.
“My love, will you let go for me again? I want so dearly to feel you.”
“Yes,” Tav gasped. “Close. So close. A bit more...” She started sliding a hand between them, down towards where they were connected, but Gale took hold of it, pressing it to the pillow by her head with their fingers wound together while his other hand took up the path instead. His skilled fingers worked her quickly, rubbing in small circles that had her racing towards the edge.
“That’s it,” he moaned as she tightened around him. “That’s it, my love. You feel incredible. Let go for me.”
His voice, rough with exertion and passion, pulled her over. His lips captured hers just in time to muffle her cry, and his as well as he tumbled after her, hips jerking as pleasure overtook them both.
All too soon, Gale rolled off of her, lying beside her while they both caught their breath. Their fingers remained laced together between them, a warm point of connection. Gale squeezed her hand, and Tav returned the gesture, turning to smile at him. She found him smiling back at her dreamily.
“Well worth a bit of subterfuge, I think,” she said.
“I couldn’t agree more.” He turned onto his side, leaning in to kiss her once again. It was warm and languid, though it grew gradually more heated as they went. Tav’s eyes were sparkling when they finally broke for air.
“How much longer do you think we have before the others return?” she asked, moving closer to press her body against his. Gale grinned.
“Oh, enough for one more round, at least.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Despite her previous exhaustion from the day’s festivities, Tav was practically buzzing with energy as she and Gale retired to his room. The wedding had been lovely, of course, as had the revelry after, but she was more than ready to be alone with her new husband. This would not be the first intimacy they'd shared — indeed, they had been quite insatiable over the past month or so — but it would be the first time they would be able to enjoy such intimacy without having to sneak away somewhere and keep quiet, lest someone find them out. The secrecy and clandestine meetings had their own thrill, of course, but she had longed to be able to devote herself fully to enjoying him, without having to keep an ear and eye out for unexpected company. Gale had kissed her fiercely the moment the carriage door had been closed behind them, hands roaming over her body as he held her close, and ever since she had been mentally preparing herself for whatever sweet torture he had in store for her.
True to the first time they had shared such pleasures, Gale had always been almost painfully slow and deliberate in his treatment of her, dragging their encounters out as long as possible despite the risk of potentially getting caught. He tried to play innocent, hiding behind the excuse of manners and gentlemanly behavior, but she was certain that he simply enjoyed teasing her. Thus, this being their wedding night, she expected even more teasing than usual. “I want this to be special,” he would say as he slowly drove her to madness, not touching her where she wanted until she begged him for it.
What she did not expect was for him to spin them around as soon as the bedroom door was closed and pin her to it with his body, kissing the air from her lungs as he ground his hips against hers. She gasped into his mouth, clutching at his jacket, caught off-guard by his sudden onslaught. She was finally able to catch her breath once his mouth left hers, moving instead to kiss and bite down her neck to her chest where it heaved at her neckline.
“This is unexpected,” she panted.
“Is it?” Gale asked, sounding genuinely confused, though he continued to mouth his way over her breasts. “It is hardly unusual, I think, for a man to desire his new bride on their wedding night.” His hands snaked around behind her, his fingers starting to work at the buttons on the back of her bodice.
Tav laughed breathlessly. “No, not that. You’re just usually much more, mmm... methodical than this. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
Gale pulled back to look at her, then, and the fire in his deep brown eyes made her knees weak.
“I have the rest of our lives to take my time with you,” he panted. “But I have been waiting all day for this, and I need you now.” He’d gotten the first two buttons undone, but was fumbling a bit with the third, and he growled in frustration.
“How fond are you of this dress?” he asked, sounding impatient.
“Rather,” Tav said warily. “It was purchased specifically for our wedding. Why?”
“Then I’ll have it repaired for you,” he replied before firmly gripping the partially opened back and pulling hard at both sides. Tav gasped at the sound of buttons hitting the floor. A gasp which turned into a moan as Gale claimed her mouth again, simultaneously yanking down the front of her gown, the sleeves sliding down her arms. He pushed it down far enough to slide a hand down the back and pull roughly at the ties of her stays, untying and pulling them loose before sliding that down as well. That done, he yanked down the front of her slip and found his prize, his lips latching victoriously onto one of her nipples.
Tav cried out, leaning into the sensation, and groaning at the feeling of Gale’s erection rubbing against her hip. He didn’t pull his mouth away as he guided them both backwards towards the bed, spinning them again at the last second to push her onto it. She attempted to raise herself with her arms, but found the busk of her stays stopped her, sitting low as it was now from when Gale had pulled them down. Gale quickly undid the fall of his breeches and freed himself, his eagerness showing in the drops of moisture beading at the head of his cock. He shoved her skirts up over her hips and reached down with one hand, pressing his fingers to her entrance. He groaned at the wetness he found there, so plentiful that it was smeared over her thighs as well.
“I love how eager you are for me,” he breathed, bringing the fingers to his mouth to suck them clean before positioning himself and rubbing his tip through her slick folds.
“Please Gale,” she begged, canting her hips up towards him. Gale growled again, grabbing her hips hard.
“As the lady wishes,” he rumbled.
He entered her with a single firm roll of his hips, both of them moaning as he slid in all the way to the hilt. They paused for a moment, breathing heavily, reveling in the connection, before Gale began to pull out before thrusting back in roughly. He set a punishing pace, leaving Tav to writhe beneath him, nearly pinned as she was, clutching desperately at the bedding and crying out her pleasure. He’d never been this rough with her before, this wild, and she was loving every moment of it. The way he fucked into her with abandon, grasping hard enough at her hips that she wondered if it might leave bruises, it was overwhelming in the best way.
Gale let himself fall forward onto his arms, caging her beneath him. His mouth returned to her neck and breasts, and one of her hands moved to pull his hair out of its tie and tangle in it. She tugged, and his answering moan tingled deliciously against her skin.
“Gale,” she whined, clutching at his back, fingers digging into the fabric.
“Tav,” he groaned in response, nipping at her shoulder. “My lovely Tav.” He leaned up, bringing his mouth next to her ear. “My beautiful, breathtaking Mrs. Dekarios.”
Tav gasped at that, the words sending a new wave of heat rushing through her, straight down to her core. She felt Gale grin against her.
“Do you like it when I call you that, Mrs. Dekarios?”
Beyond words at this point, Tav could only nod, whimpering her assent.
“I’m glad,” Gale panted in her ear. “Because I very much enjoy saying it.”
He kept moving, his pace not wavering, cries falling from Tav’s lips at the relentless onslaught of pleasure.
“That’s it,” Gale groaned. “Let me hear you. You sing so beautifully for me. A melody for my ears alone. I’ve been waiting for this all day. You’ve never looked so radiant as you did, smiling at me at the altar. The first time I called you Mrs. Dekarios I feared I might embarrass myself, so intense was the feeling it brought.” He interrupted his rhythm briefly to give a particularly hard grind, as if for emphasis, pulling another long moan from Tav’s throat. “It took all of my will to wait until we were here, rather than simply taking you in the carriage.”
Tav gasped, the mental image making her clench around him. Gale grunted at the feeling. His speed remained steady, but he grew more forceful, the sounds of slick skin hitting slick skin filling the room. Short, sharp cries left Tav’s lips with every thrust, and Gale’s verbal stream of poetic filth and praise gave way to wordless moans, their voices rising in a symphony of shared pleasure. It didn’t take much longer for Tav to feel herself nearing the edge, her whole body pulled taught like a thread ready to snap.
“Gale,” she gasped. “Gale, so close. Please I- I need-”
She broke off with a moan as Gale immediately brought one hand down to rub her in exactly the way she needed. No more than a minute later she was sobbing his name, a powerful climax overtaking her. Gale followed quickly, grinding deep as his seed filled her, a choked moan tumbling from his lips.
They stayed there for a long moment, catching their breath and letting the stars fade from their eyes. Finally, Gale propped himself up to look at her, bringing one hand up to gently stroke Tav’s cheek. She smiled at him, soft and sated.
“My love...” he murmured, his quiet, enamored tone such a contrast to his roughness only minutes before. “My beautiful wife.”
“My darling husband,” she replied, smiling more broadly at the way he lit up at the words.
“That wasn't too rough, I hope,” he said earnestly. “I've been struggling all day to keep my hands off of you. Once we were finally alone I'm afraid I couldn't help myself.”
“Not at all,” Tav assured him. “In fact,” she continued, lips curving into a mischievous smirk, “as long as you have them repaired after, I wouldn’t object to you tearing open my dresses like that more often.”
Gale laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, leaning in for another quick kiss. “Speaking of, how about I help you out of these clothes properly?”
“Mmm, yes please.”
Soon they were both undressed, holding each other close in the bed, enjoying the knowledge that this would only be the first of many nights spent this way.
“My dearest Tav,” Gale sighed as he stroked her back, his brown eyes warm and adoring as they stared into hers. “I am the luckiest man in the world to be here with you. I love you more than words could ever possibly say.”
Tav kissed him, slow and heated. “How fortunate then, that you have more at your disposal than words to express it.” She rested her forehead against his, their noses brushing, her breath ghosting over his lips as she spoke. “Don't just tell me, my love. Show me.”
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agentstarkid · 7 months ago
Text
YOU'RE THE STAR OF THE SHOW, YOU SHIMMER LIKE GOLD ✦ LN4
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✦ pairing: lando norris x karateka!reader ✦ words: 4K ✦ warnings: female!reader, latina!reader, no use of Y/N, no use of physical description, a little bit of flirting. ✦ may's radio: me, actually writing for these men going vroom vroom??? whaaaaa?? shut up! lol I tried to explain the techniques to the best of my abilities as a daughter and sister to Senseis (and a once upon a (very short) time karateka). I hope it is understandable!! if not, let me down slowly!! SO, Boy-o needs a badass girl in his life PERIODT!!! And let's all pretend Monster gives a fuck about Karate. I've had this idea for lichrally months, dude. And I was supposed to do another thing with it, but here we are hehehe. Also, not using any name or description for this girlie was HARD so I think I deserve some of y'all thoughts ad nauseam 👉🏽👈🏽, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking btw. N E WAYYYZZ. I love u. I hope u like it. k byee <3
— back to general masterlist
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The sun blazed over Monterrey, casting a warm glow on the sprawling city nestled against the Sierra Madre Oriental mountains. The streets buzzed with excitement and anticipation as athletes and fans from around the world gathered for the 12th WUKF World Karate Championships. Banners and posters adorned with the tournament’s emblem fluttered in the breeze, while the iconic Monster Energy logo prominently featured alongside, symbolizing the brand’s unwavering support for the event and its athletes.
Among the throngs of spectators and competitors, one figure stood out, drawing the attention of both fans and the media. Lando Norris, the young and charismatic McLaren Formula 1 driver, had been invited to the championships as a special guest of Monster Energy. Known for his prowess on the track and his engaging personality off it, Lando had a magnetic presence that resonated with fans across different sports. 
The event was a world away from the high-octane world of Formula 1, but Lando was excited for the change of pace and the chance to meet young athletes from around the globe. Recently, Quadrant—a brand founded by him—had been sponsoring young athletes in different sports. It was a new venture for Lando, driven by his passion to support and uplift emerging talents. He had been looking forward to finding more promising athletes to add to Quadrant's growing roster, and the World Championship seemed like the perfect place to discover some of that potential.
As Lando navigated the bustling venue, his thoughts were a mix of excitement and curiosity. Though the world of martial arts was vastly different from the high-speed circuits he was used to, the principles of discipline, focus, and determination were strikingly similar. 
He had to admit to himself that before receiving the invitation, he knew next to nothing about karate. In fact, he’d even had to google the sport just to get a basic understanding. Embarrassingly, he had initially thought Karate and Taekwondo were the same thing. The search results had quickly set him straight, teaching him about the rich history and distinct techniques of this martial art, and giving him a newfound respect for the discipline.
He was eager to meet the athletes, particularly one individual who had captured the world’s attention with her remarkable skills and indomitable spirit.
A 20-something karate athlete from Latin America, had become a sensation in the martial arts community. With two world championships under her belt and many other championship victories, she was not only a formidable competitor but also an inspiring figure for young athletes around the globe. She was specially known for her exceptional skills and strategic prowess in kumite, the sparring discipline of karate. 
Sponsored by Monster Energy, her journey had been one of relentless perseverance and triumph over adversity. Her presence at the championships was not just a testament to her talent but also a symbol of her dedication to the sport she loved. And from what he had seen on videos while he was on his way, Lando also saw potential in her for Quadrant, imagining how she could inspire a whole new generation of athletes under the brand's banner.
The sound of rhythmic, powerful strikes filled the air as athletes from around the world prepared for their matches. Lando was led through the bustling venue to the competition floor, where the large tatami mats were situated. As he walked, he could hear the short—some even lasting longer—, loud shouts of "kiai" echoing through the hall, each one accompanying a sharp, strong technique from the karatekas already competing. The intensity and focus behind each shout sent a thrill through him, underscoring the seriousness and dedication of these athletes.
As he approached, he saw her warming up with stretches, under the watchful stare of one of the coaches of her national team. Lando felt a mix of excitement and slight nervousness. From what he had seen on videos from her past fights, she had a really strong presence, commanding the tatami mat whenever she stepped on it. Her intensity and focus were palpable, and he wasn’t gonna lie and say he didn’t think she was a little bit intimidating. And after spending a short—long—time going through her Instagram, he could also admit he found her beautiful, with her fierce determination adding to her allure.
Once she finished her stretching, he could see her coach pointing his way, making her turn around. He was approaching her with one of the energy drink’s representatives. Noticing them coming closer, she took off her earbuds and looked up with raised eyebrows, her demeanor immediately softening.
Actually…he didn’t know how to explain it…but now that he was in her presence, she didn’t give off intimidating vibes. She still had a commanding presence, don’t get him wrong, but she seemed to be more reserved and shy. He could see her fidgeting with the little device in her hand.
“Lando, I’d like you to meet one of our top sponsored athletes. She’s an incredible talent in kumite,” the representative said. She smiled warmly, a hint of bashfulness in her eyes, as she extended her hand.
“Hi, it’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your incredible achievements,” Lando greeted, shaking her hand.
“Likewise, Lando. It’s great to have you here. I’ve always admired the skill and courage it takes to race at the speeds you do,” she replied, her voice gentle and modest, a stark contrast to the powerful warrior he had seen in videos. “And congrats on your first win back in Miami!”
Lando was pleasantly surprised. “You know about that? Thanks! I didn’t expect to meet a karate champion who’s also an F1 fan,” he said, feeling a bit cocky despite the bashful smile creeping onto his face.
She laughed softly. “I’ve been a fan for years. Watching F1 races is one of my favorite ways to relax on weekends.”
Lando chuckled, his confidence bolstered. “Well, that’s great to hear. Maybe I can give you some tips on racing if you teach me a bit about karate,” he said, winking playfully.
She laughed again, appreciating his playful attitude. “Deal. I’ll teach you how to throw a punch if you show me how to handle those high-speed corners.”
Lando tried to joke, “It’s all about the neck strength, really,” but let out an awkward little laugh as he got a bit flustered. Her reserved demeanor was deceptive; she could hold constant eye contact with a calm intensity that he wasn’t prepared for.
She smiled, her gaze steady and unwavering. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.
Lando felt a strange mix of admiration and nervousness under her steady gaze. Wanting to know more about her mindset before such a big competition, he asked, “How are you feeling about today?”
She took a deep breath and looked down for a moment, then back up at him, her expression humble yet determined. “If I told you I was completely confident about winning everything, I’d be lying. I have pre-fight jitters, just like anyone else. But I’m going to give it my all. That’s all I can do.”
Lando nodded, impressed by her honesty. “I get that. Even in racing, no matter how prepared you are, there’s always that bit of uncertainty. It’s what makes the victory even sweeter, though, don’t you think?”
She smiled, appreciating his understanding. “Absolutely. The nerves mean you care. They keep you sharp.”
Their conversation flowed easily, the initial awkwardness melting away as they shared insights from their respective sports. Lando admired her resilience and the way she embraced her nerves, turning them into a source of strength.
As the announcements for the upcoming matches began, she glanced towards the tatami, her focus sharpening. “I should get ready. It was really great talking to you, Lando. Thanks for the encouragement.”
“Anytime,” Lando replied, genuinely meaning it. “I’ll be cheering for you.”
She gave him one last smile before heading towards her coach. Lando watched her go, struck by the contrast between her shy off-mat demeanor and the commanding presence she exuded when she was about to compete. He couldn’t help but feel a deep respect for her dedication and the way she handled the pressure—and that was kinda hot to him.
Professionalism, Lando. He scolded himself. She’s an athlete, and you’re here to do your job—or a small part of it. 
As he found a spot to watch the competition, he thought about the unexpected connection they had made. Despite their different paths, their shared commitment to excellence and the way they embraced their nerves set them apart as true champions. Lando knew that whatever the outcome of her matches, she would give it everything she had—just like he did on the track.
He could hear the announcer's voice booming through the venue. “Athletes competing in the Seniors D Female category: 21 to 35 years old and 65 kg and over, please approach the number 3 tatami mat.” He listened intently, waiting for her name to be called. It came in the middle of the list, and he could see the group of female athletes approaching the announcer.
She stayed behind the group, her demeanor calm and composed as she waited to hear her name being called. There was a quiet confidence about her that set her apart from the others. Lando noticed that some of the other girls would steal glances at her, fidgeting with their belts or adjusting their karate-gi in a nervous manner. Her presence seemed to unsettle them, a testament to her reputation and the respect she commanded among her peers.
As the roll call continued, Lando observed the competitors closely. The air was thick with anticipation, and he could sense the mixture of excitement and tension that filled the room. When her name was finally called, she stepped forward with a graceful nod, acknowledging the announcement with a quiet strength.
She joined the others on the mat, and the athletes began their final preparations, mentally psyching themselves up for the upcoming matches. Lando watched her closely, noticing how she seemed to center herself, taking deep, measured breaths and rolling her shoulders and neck to release any remaining tension.
As the roll call concluded, the athletes lined up in front of the referee and judges. Lando watched closely as the referee shouted something in Japanese—a command that he couldn't quite understand. Both parties then performed the ceremonial salute, tilting the upper part of their bodies in a bow. The referee shouted again and gestured towards the flags and the public, prompting another salute. 
After the salutes, the athletes moved to their respective sides of the tatami mat. On the right side, some of them were tying up red belts around their waists and putting on red gloves and knee protections. On the left side, the competitors were doing the same but in blue. She was on the left side, methodically securing her blue belt and adjusting her gloves and knee pads that matched her new karate–gi that had blue stripes on the shoulders.
Lando observed the attention to detail in her preparation. Every movement, every adjustment of her uniform, was part of her mental and physical ritual to enter the competitive mindset. It was a fascinating glimpse into the discipline and dedication required at this level of competition.
After three intense matches—all of them won by her—, the announcer announced the final match. He called for her to stand on the two red tatami mats on the left side of the big blue square tatami. Lando watched as she took her place, her expression hardening with concentration. Just before stepping forward, she gave herself a couple of hard pats to her chest—a ritual, he guessed, to psych herself up for the fight.
Her face was set with determination, eyes focused intently on the task ahead. The referee approached both competitors, methodically checking their mouthguards and ensuring all their equipment was in place.
The formalities concluded, and the competitors performed the ceremonial bows to each other and to the referee. She took a second to walk up to her adversary and offer her hand to shake and a head nod as a greeting. 
That’s a nice, respectful and full of sportsmanship gesture, he thought.
The referee then gestured for them to take their positions and announced the start of the match. Each competitor started to move around each other with their guards up and an intense focus. She moved with a grace and confidence that was mesmerizing, her every step exuding a calm readiness. 
Lando could feel the intensity radiating from both competitors as they engaged in a series of swift, precise movements. Each strike was met with a counter, each block with a follow-up attack. The "kiai" shouts punctuated the air, underscoring the power and focus behind each technique. 
Even though she seemed already tired after her past intense fights leading up to this one, she moved with a fluidity and strength that was both beautiful and formidable. Her opponent was skilled, but she maintained control of the match, her strategic prowess and physical strength shining through. The rhythmic exchange of attacks and defenses was like a well-choreographed dance, each move calculated and deliberate.
He found himself completely engrossed in the match, his heart pounding in time with the athletes' movements. It was only a 3 minute fight but somehow it felt longer. He could see the strain and determination on her face, the way she pushed through every challenge her opponent presented. Her focus was unwavering, her resolve unbreakable.
Suddenly, when her adversary moved forward in a punch, she ducked under—and somehow—managed to lift the other girl with her shoulder and drop her to the ground. In a display of quick and swift precision, she then threw three rapid punches to her opponent on the ground. Immediately, Lando saw every judge in the four corners lift their blue flags high in the air. 
The entire place erupted in excited shouts, the crowd amazed by her impressive movement. On the large screen above, the score shifted dramatically from 3-4 to 3-7 in her favor. Kenneth—the energy drink’s representative standing next to Lando—explained to him that the move she pulled was one that immediately granted you 3 points—the highest score you can get. Lando couldn’t help but cheer loudly, caught up in the exhilaration of the moment.
Her focus was unwavering, her resolve unbreakable. She had turned the tide of the match with a single, decisive move, showcasing her skill and strategic brilliance. As she stepped back, she offered her opponent her hand to help her rise, the referee called a brief pause to reset the match.
The crowd's energy was palpable, and Lando found himself on the edge of his seat, completely engrossed in the action. The match resumed, but it was clear that her opponent was shaken by the sudden shift in momentum. She maintained her advantage, her movements confident and controlled, her strikes precise and powerful.
At one point during the match, she received a hard kick to the ribs, and Lando saw her doubling over in pain. Instinctively, he stood up, feeling a surge of worry for her. The referee immediately called one of the medics, who rushed over to check on her. The medic spent a minute examining her, asking questions to which she only nodded in response. After a few tense minutes, she stood back up, her face hardened with determination, ready to continue.
The referee gave her opponent a penalty for the hard kick before signaling for the match to resume. Once it did, she seemed eerily calm, her demeanor even more focused than before. Her opponent, on the other hand, appeared unsettled, thrown off by both the penalty and the unfavorable score. With only 1 minute and 30 seconds left on the timer, visible on the screen above, the other girl began attacking rashly, desperately trying to close the score gap.
But then, in a fluid, lightning-fast movement, she spun and lifted her right leg towards the back of her opponent's head, delivering a light tap with the heel of her foot to the back of it. The technique resembled a scorpion's strike or a spinning hook kick, in Lando’s opinion. But Kenneth identified it as an "ura mawashi geri." A hard and powerful kicking technique. He explained.
The judges instantly raised their blue flags high, signaling their approval of the impressive technique. The crowd erupted once more as the score on the screen shifted from an already commanding 3-7 to an incredible 3-10. With only one minute left, it was clear she had secured the victory.
Lando's heart raced as he watched her dominate the match. The final whistle blew, the referee raised his hand in her direction indicating her victory, and her teammates as well as the crowd’s cheers reached a deafening crescendo.
As she bowed to the referee and then approached her opponent for a respectful handshake, Lando couldn't help but marvel at her resilience and skill. Despite the setback of the hard kick to the ribs, she had emerged victorious, showcasing the true spirit of a champion.
As she left the mat, Lando could see the emotions overwhelming her. Her coach rushed to embrace her in a tight hug, both of them sharing a moment of pure joy and triumph.
Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of relief, happiness, and pride in her achievement. The weight of all her hard work and dedication had paid off in this victorious moment.
Lando watched from a respectful distance, filled with admiration for her incredible achievement. The crowd erupted in applause, acknowledging her exceptional performance and celebrating her as a true champion.
After a few moments, she composed herself and turned to face the crowd, holding up her hand in a thankful gesture.
As she made her way through the cheering crowd, Lando approached her with a heartfelt congratulations. “That was mental! You were absolutely amazing out there! Congratulations on becoming world champion again," he said, genuinely impressed.
“Thank you so much, Lando,” she replied, her voice still tinged with emotion and sounding a little bit out of breath still. “It means a lot to have your support.”
“You deserve every bit of it,” Lando said warmly. And immediately after, looked at her with concern painted all over his face. He noticed she was still having some trouble breathing and was holding her left arm to her ribs. “Are you feeling alright after that kick you received?” he asked, worry evident in his voice.
She smiled, trying to ease his worries. “Yes, I'm okay. I had the chest guards on under my karate-gi, so it wasn't too bad.” She paused, then added with a light-hearted chuckle, “I did feel the kick, but it's nothing new at this point.”
Lando nodded, relieved but still a little bit concerned. “You've shown incredible strength and determination.” he said, genuinely impressed.
She nodded, gratitude evident in her eyes. “It's been a tough journey, but moments like this make it all worth it.”
Lando smiled, feeling privileged to have witnessed her victory. “Enjoy every moment of it. You've earned it, champ.”
“Thank you, Lando. It feels surreal.”
“You really commanded the mat out there," he said. “It's no wonder everyone looks up to you. You were truly brilliant.”
She nodded, the shy smile returning to her face. “I just try to do my best. It helps to know there are people cheering for me.”
“Well, you've got one more fan in me now,” Lando said with a grin. “I knew you were good, but seeing it in person... you're incredible.”
As the excitement of the victory settled, Lando leaned in slightly and asked, “Hey...uh... I've been thinking. Would you maybe be interested in joining Quadrant?”
She looked at him, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected offer. Her eyes widened slightly, reflecting a mix of surprise and curiosity. After a brief pause, a smile spread across her face, and she eagerly nodded. “Sí! uh…,” she shook her head a few times, like she was trying to shake the language off her head. Cute. “I-I mean yes! I’d be honoured!”
Lando grinned, pleased by her enthusiastic response. “Fantastic! We'll talk more about it soon. I think we could do some amazing things together.”
She smiled warmly, nodding in agreement. “I'm looking forward to it.”
A moment of silence passed before Lando chuckled nervously. “By the way, I should probably explain what Quadrant is all about.”
Before he could continue, she interrupted gently, “Oh, don't worry. I'm actually a fan of the YouTube videos. I know about the brand already.”
Lando's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You do? That's... really cool!”
She chuckled softly. “Yeah, I've watched a few. You guys have some pretty entertaining content.”
Lando felt a flutter in his stomach at her praise. “Wow, I'm glad to hear that! Means a lot, especially coming from someone as talented as you.”
She blushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you, Lando. I'm excited about the opportunity to work together.”
Lando grinned, feeling a sense of excitement about the future collaborations. “Likewise. I think we can create something truly special.”
As they parted ways, Lando couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement and anticipation for what the future held. Being able to collaborate with someone he admired both as an athlete and as a person was a privilege he didn’t take lightly.
Before they fully separated, Lando impulsively went in for a hug. She hesitated for a moment, looking slightly embarrassed as she was still sweaty from the intense matches. But Lando reassured her with a warm smile, “Hey, it's not a problem at all. I totally understand. I’m super used to the post-competition sweat.” He chuckled.
Her expression softened, and she returned the hug gratefully. As they embraced, Lando felt a sense of something developing slowly within himself. 
Oh, Bob has a crush! He suddenly heard the teasing voice of Max, his best friend, in his head. 
Shut up, you muppet. He groaned. Lando lingered in the hug for a moment longer than intended, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment himself.
When they finally pulled back, he chuckled nervously. “Sorry about that. Got a bit carried away.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “No worries, Lando. Thank you again for your support.”
They exchanged a final smile before she had to part ways, both looking forward to the exciting opportunities ahead. Lando watched her walk away, his mind buzzing with ideas and possibilities.
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As he watched with bated breath as the ceremony began, the announcer's voice echoed through the arena, calling the winners to the podium. When her name was called, the small crowd standing in front erupted in applause and cheers, celebrating her hard-fought victory. 
She walked confidently to the podium, her coach following closely behind. The gold medal was placed around her neck. Beaming with pride and joy, she was handed her country's flag. Draping it around her shoulders, she stood tall on the podium, her smile radiant and her eyes shining with accomplishment. The audience’s cheers intensified, and Lando found himself clapping enthusiastically along with them.
It was a powerful moment, and Lando felt a deep sense of respect for her journey and massive achievement. 
But it was more than just respect that stirred within him. Watching her bask in her well-deserved glory, Lando felt his heart swell with admiration and something more tender. The way she carried herself, the mixture of strength and humility, her fierce determination on the mat and the shy kindness she showed off it—all of it combined to create a powerful impression.
There was something profoundly inspiring and undeniably attractive about her, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her even more. She scanned the crowd and her eyes met his. Her face lit up even more, and to his surprise, she smiled and winked at him. The unexpected gesture caught him off guard, and he felt a sudden rush of warmth to his cheeks. Blushing, he quickly looked down, feeling a mix of bashfulness and happiness. However, he gathered his courage and returned the gesture, smiling and giving her a small, appreciative two-finger salute. 
She laughed softly and sent him the gesture back. Lando felt a warmth spread through him, a hopeful anticipation of what their future interactions might hold.
As the ceremony concluded—and after getting photographed a thousand times, and having shaken what felt like a thousand hands—, Lando found himself back in the car on his way to the hotel. Gazing out the window at the bustling city, he couldn't help but feel grateful for having been there, witnessing her triumph and the beginning of what promised to be an exciting partnership.
His mind replayed the moments of the day: her powerful performance on the mat, the way she carried herself with grace and determination, and their brief, meaningful exchanges. The flutter in his stomach returned, and he allowed himself a small smile, knowing that this experience had been special in more ways than one.
Lando knew that this was just the start of something truly special, and he looked forward to the adventures that lay ahead, both on a professional level—and perhaps something a bit more personal.
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