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agreeeeeeeeeee · 19 days ago

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Bad Santa | D.M.

“Santa can’t be bad.” He grabbed you by the throat...“Sweet girls, however, always have a naughty side.”

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend Draco has thrown the Christmas party of the year, and wears a Santa hat to make you smile. But jealousy quickly throws a wrench into your festive evening.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut with a sprinkle of plot, he hates everyone but her, protective, arrogant, and possessive!draco, slightly toxic behavior, pda, dirty talk, sort of insecure reader?? (she just wants to be perfect for him even though he thinks she’s perfect 1000% of the time), Blaise is kind of a dick in this one sorry

You were running late to Draco’s Christmas party, but your red glitter eyeliner was not cooperating, and you were ready to start screaming.

You just wanted to look perfect for him, even though he loved nothing more than seeing you fresh out of the shower, bundled up in his pajamas. But this was one of the last parties he would throw at Hogwarts, and he’d worked so hard on every meticulous detail.

You refused to be the weak link.

There was a soft knock on your door, and your heart fell out of rhythm, thinking it was Draco.

“Come in!” You called, and Theo opened the door, a flute of wine in hand.

He let out a low whistle, freezing in place, forgetting that he definitely was not supposed to be checking you out.

You rolled your eyes, returning to your eyeliner in the mirror. “Eyes up, Nott. Would be a shame to see that pretty face without teeth.”

He shook himself and strode in, setting the drink on the table beside you. It was fizzy and a pale gold, with sugared cranberries floating at the top. “Yeah, yeah. Malfoy sent me to check on you, make sure you didn’t fall out the window or something. And he said to bring you that.” Theo gestured to the drink.

You smiled, taking a sip of the effervescent giggle water. “I’m perfectly fine. Tell Draco I’ll be down soon.” You set the glass down and picked up your liner brush, finishing the last line. You leaned back to make sure they were even and fucking finally, they were.

“You got it, Mrs. Clause,” he bowed and made a swift exit.

Mrs. Clause? You shrugged it off. Theo was always spouting random shit, anyways. You fluffed your hair and stood, straightening your black slip dress. An inch shorter, and it would be considered lingerie, but you wanted Draco to be unable to keep his hands off of you, and this dress would surely do the trick.

You slipped your hands into a pair of black, satin elbow gloves, and stepped into your black platform heels. For the final touch, a swipe of oxblood red lipstick, and you were ready.

The music was loud enough to feel through the floor as you made your way down the stairs, drink in hand, the party in full swing. The room was completely covered in green and white christmas lights, with dozens of trees decorated in Slytherin colors and tinsel snakes scattered throughout the room. Fake snow fell gently from the ceiling, covering everything in a sheen of silver glitter, though it wasn’t cold when it kissed your skin, collecting in your hair and eyelashes.

It was a wonderland, and your heart swelled with pride that your man made it happen.

You turned your attention back to the stairs so you didn't fall face first, and noticed Theo was waiting for you at the bottom.

”Really?” You teased, taking his arm when he offered it to you.

“Are you really surprised?” He muttered in your ear as he lead you through the crowd. “It’s a fucking circus in here.”

Despite your teasing, you were glad for his company once you got into the thick of the party. It seemed your housemates were pulling out all the stops for this one, already teetering into rager territory and it wasn’t even 10 o’clock.

“He’s going to crash out when he sees you,” Theo chuckled, puffing up his chest when some Ravenclaw boy drifted a little too close to you.

“That’s the idea.”

“Crash out indeed.” Draco suddenly appeared in front of you, stepping from the crowd like he’d apparated there, and you nearly tripped over your heels.

He was dressed in all black, like you’d discussed, his suit decorated with black lace and silver trim. But what really threw you was the velvet black Santa hat on his head, the fur trim and bauble like a silver wolfs coat. He looked…sinful.

“Draco!” You exclaimed, flush with excitement. “How did you—”

“Followed the broken necks,” he replied, his gaze roaming from the top of your head to the very tip of your toes with a predator’s gleam. “That’s all, Nott,” he said, an edge of command to his voice, and Theo dissolved into the crowd.

He extended a hand to you and you placed your fingers in his palm, butterflies rioting in your stomach despite having been with Draco for close to a year now. He pulled your bodies together, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other bringing your gloved knuckles to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“I’m speechless, baby,” he murmured, releasing your hand to catch your chin. He tilted your head up towards him, turning you just slightly to watch the shimmer around your eyes dance.

You reached up to flick the bauble on the end of his hat, grinning. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Let me see you,” he purred. He took your hand again and stepped back, spinning you in a slow circle as the snow fell around you. It was like there was no one else in the room, just you and Draco in a winter wonderland. “That’s simply unfair, darling,” he said, pulling you back into him. “Am I meant to fight off every student in attendance?”

“You’re so dramatic,” you snickered, pecking his cheek, and he chuckled.

“C’mon, let’s get you by the fire. It is winter, you know—”

You swatted his arm, letting him lead you through the crowd. Though, Draco had a considerably easier time with it that Theo did, the party-goers shifting apart like the Red Sea. In a few moments, you found your and Draco’s friends sitting in a circle of couches and chairs by the roaring fireplace. The largest arm chair, closest to the fire, was unoccupied, and you noticed two drinks sitting untouched on the table beside it.

A fire whiskey that was certainly Draco’s, and another frosty flute of giggle water with cranberries, presumably for you.

Your friends all greeted you with warm smiles and a wolf whistle from Pansy, and you broke free from Draco to catch up with her and a few of your girls.

“You have no idea, he was so bitchy when you didn’t show up at 9:30 on the dot,” Pansy whispered, giggling.

“Not at you, of course. He’s just never happy when you aren’t around,” another one of your friends muttered.

You glanced over at Draco, who was sitting in his seat, an ankle propped up on the opposite knee, fire whiskey in hand. He was watching you over the rim despite poor Blaise trying to talk to him, and you could feel his gaze like a caress over your exposed back.

“It was my damn eyeliner,” you chuckled, batting your eyes to show them, and they squealed. “Couldn’t get it straight.”

“That’s amazing! Where did you get it—”

“It makes you look like a crazy vixen or something. Slayed.”

“It’s flawless, well worth being thirty minutes late—”

“Thank you, thank you,” you flushed.

“Let’s go dance!” Pansy said, grabbing you by the wrist, and you turned to check with Draco. Not that you needed permission, just to let him know what you were doing.

“Go dance, baby. I’ll be right here, watching very closely,” he called with a smirk, waving you off.

You swallowed the rest of your drink as the girls dragged you out to the edge of the dance floor, where it wasn’t quite as crowded, and the boys could keep an eye on all of you in case anyone got any ideas. You let yourself get lost in the music and the movement, Draco’s watchful the eye the only thing rooting you to the present. Even from across the room, he made you feel secure as gold in Gringott’s, which was why you felt comfortable wearing a dress so revealing, or going to a wild party in the first place.

But, after an hour or so, you started to feel that longing tug in your lower belly, missing his voice, his touch. You grabbed Pansy, shouting in her ear over the roar of the music. “Excuse me, I have to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what I want for Christmas!”

“Ask for a million dollars!” She shouted back, breathless.

You turned and sauntered across the room to Draco, eyes locked on him, taking care to sway your hips in time to the music.

He set his foot down, patting his thigh with his free hand, a smirk lifting his handsome face. You stepped between his thighs and eased onto his lap, his arm immediately wrapping around your back to grip your thigh, the fat dimpling beneath the pressure as he hauled you closer.

“Hi, Santa baby,” you flirted, lifting your legs to rest them across his other thigh, your heels dangling towards the ground.

“I’d ask if you’ve been a good girl, but I think I know the answer to that,” he hummed, pressing his lips beneath your jaw and kissing downwards at a leisurely place.

“Does that mean ‘no’?” You giggled, letting the heat of his affection flow through you, warming your blood until a buzzy desire bloomed between your legs.

“Good girls don’t dance like that in an attempted murder against their boyfriend,” he chuckled, nipping at your ear before sitting up.

“Attempted murder” You gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “I would never.”

He passed you your drink, watching your lips as you took a long sip of the fizzy beverage. “I like that lipstick,” he said, softening his voice. “Is it new?”

You nodded. “Santa bought it for me at Hogsmeade.”

Draco laughed, the vibration in his chest making your thighs clench as your arousal continued to build. “Did Santa buy you that dress too?”

“Of course.” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his ear. “And what’s underneath it.”

His grip tightened on your thigh, and you felt something hard nudge against your hip. “I suppose Santa should let you take his wallet into town more often,” he muttered, a little raspier than before.

“At his own peril,” you warned, smiling.

“Whatever it takes to keep you right here, Mrs. Clause.” His hand slid to the nape of your neck, the tips of his fingers chilled from holding the whiskey glass, and he pulled you in. Your lips connected in heated kiss, tasting cinnamon and drunken cherries. His tongue brushed along the seam of your lips in a request for entry. You parted just slightly for him, a tease, before biting lightly at the tip of his tongue. He grinned, retaliating by biting your lower lip, hard enough to send a delicious flare of pain straight to your most sensitive parts, and you nearly cried out. He soothed the bite with his tongue, and kissed you softly before pulling away.

You knew that lipstick was worth the price tag; barely a ghost of smear colored his lips. He just looked thoroughly kissed, exactly how you wanted him to.

“Why does this party just feel like extremely elaborate foreplay?” Blaise droned, rolling his eyes at the two of you.

“Everything is foreplay to them,” Pansy laughed, flopping down onto the couch between Crabbe and Goyle.

“Jealous, Zabini?” Draco asked, leaning back a little further into the chair, his legs spreading wider so gravity shifted more of your weight into his body. He was so warm and solid, the feel and presence of him making your head go a little fuzzy. Or perhaps it was the giggle water taking effect.

“Sorry, Blaise,” you said, nudging his shoulder with the toe of your heel. “We’ll try to keep the pda under control.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” Draco argued, grabbing your ankle and tucking your foot back against his calf. “Let ‘em suffer.”

“Draco, don’t be cruel,” you scolded, though everyone knew you didn’t mean it.

“Cruel? Cruel would be denying everyone the sight of you. He should be thanking me,” Draco countered, his hand caressing up and down your shin, the other kneading the fat of your haunch.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for allowing me to watch you all but fuck your girl in front of the entire student body,” Blaise snapped, and you felt Draco’s energy immediately shift into dangerous territory.

“Just say you’re jealous and shut the fuck up, Blaise. You’re being a dick,” Goyle shot back, with a grunt in agreement from Crabbe.

“Baby,” you murmured, quiet enough that only Draco could hear you. “Ignore him. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you and ruin our fun.” You rubbed your gloved hand over his chest, feeling his heart pounding through his expensive shirt. He was glaring at Blaise, anger slithering through the blue of his eyes, promising pain.

“No, I want him to say what he means,” Draco said, his tone deceptively light, and you inwardly groaned. “Go on, mate. Tell us the truth.”

Theo made a ‘don’t’ sign with his hand, but Blaise was glaring right back at Draco, apparently foolish enough, or drunk enough, to take the bait.

“I wouldn’t parade my girl around like that, is all. Wouldn’t want another bloke seeing what’s mine.”

Draco was up in a flash, leaving you in a heap on his chair. Blaise jumped up too, but Theo got between them before they collided.

“She can do whatever she damn well pleases. And I’m not going to let some microdicked cunt make her think twice about it,” Draco growled, and your heart gave an ill-timed flutter, your pussy tingling anew. You knew Draco shouldn’t be so protective, and it’s gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion, but you couldn’t help it. You loved seeing Draco’s dark side come out on your behalf.

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” Blaise replied, shoving into Theo to try and reach Draco. Theo shoved Blaise backwards and Draco managed to get around him, grabbing Blaise up by the collar. You got to your feet, fear pumping through you, but Theo blocked you before you could intervene.

“Now, I’m going to give you the opportunity to apologize to her on your own, or I will force it out of you,” Draco said, his voice menacingly low. When Blaise tried in vain to free himself, Draco shook him hard, nearly hitting his head against the stone fireplace. “Now, Zabini.”

Blaise’s eyes met yours, wide with fear, but deeply angry. “I’m sorry, y/n,” he hissed through his teeth, venomous as a hex.

Draco pushed him hard, throwing him onto the ground. He loomed over the prone boy, raising his wand.

“Draco!” You shouted, managing to get around Theo is his shock. You got between Draco and Blaise, throwing your arms around your boyfriends neck and pressing yourself to his front. “He’s not worth getting expelled,” you hissed in his ear, his eyes feral and jaw set. “Please, please don’t do this.”

You felt him soften, just a fraction.

“Merlin, I’m sorry, okay!” Blaise shouted, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, y/n.” Sincerity softened the Blaise’s voice, and Draco finally lowered his wand.

You applied some pressure to Draco’s front, trying to get him to move, and he took a step back, an unspoken acquiescence. You grabbed his hand and dragged him through the sea of onlookers and up to his dorm, his hand a vice on yours.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Draco lunged, crushing you against the wall in a fervid, desperate kiss. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the race of his heart, and knew that he needed an outlet for his temper.

“No one talks to you like that,” he growled against your neck, biting at your skin while he wrapped your legs around his waist. “I don’t care if it’s my friends, my father, or bloody Minister of fucking Magic.”

“Yes, Draco!” You cried out when he ground his hardening cock against your clothed cunt, your eyes rolling back at the friction.

“You’re mine,” he said, his lips releasing from your skin with a pop. “Mine to spoil, mine to dote on, mine to touch, kiss, fuck.”

“Fuck, yes. All yours.” You pulled off your gloves and dug your fingers into his platinum hair, knocking off the Santa hat in pursuit of another scalding kiss. He obliged you, tangling his tongue with yours and loosing a low groan. He peeled you off of the wall, not breaking the kiss, and tossed you onto a bed.

Not his bed, you realized almost immediately.

“Draco—”

“Just want to leave a little gift for Blaise,” he said, kissing down your chest while his hands pushed up your skirt, revealing the g-string you bought just for him. It was black and trimmed in diamonds, nothing but mesh covering your puffy, drooling lips. “Look at you,” he cooed, softening further. He lowered himself to rest fully between your legs and grazed his thumb over the mesh, feeling the wetness soaking through. “You bought these for me?”

You nodded, chewing your lower lip and resisting the urge to press yourself into his hand.

“How very considerate of you, darling,” he praised, hooking the fabric with his middle finger and tugging it aside. He pressed a kiss to your clit before swiping a languid lick through your slit, finally relaxing back into his usual, calm demeanor. He always settled like this when it was just the two of you, your body laid out all for him, like it appeased some ravenous beast inside of his chest.

Between your legs was where he made his confession, where he bared his soul and sought forgiveness for his trespasses.

“M’sorry for being such a brute,” he murmured against you, sucking lightly at your clit.

“I love when you stand up for me,” you said, your words tangled with a soft moan as he continued to lap at you, so soft it makes your chest ache.

You felt him smile against you before sitting back on his heels, your slick glossing his lips and chin. “That why you’re dripping for me? Did it turn you on when I got angry?” It was a rhetorical question. He knew it turned you on when he was set off, as it had resulted in many a shagging in broom closets and empty classrooms. “Or was it the Santa hat?” he teased, getting up and grabbing it off of the floor.

“Draco, come back,” you whined, reaching for him while he put the hat back on his head. He was toying with you now, seeing how worked up he could get you before either of you snapped.

If there was one thing you knew for certain about Draco Malfoy, it’s that he loved the chase. Perhaps it was the Slytherin in him, the desire to scheme and plot, to coax out their prey before they strike.

He grabbed your ankle and tugged you the edge of the bed, your hips flush against his. “I’m here,” he soothed, running his hands over your thighs and spreading your legs a little further for him. “Baby, that makeup…” his eyes danced over your face. “Lose my train of thought when you look at me like that.”

You sat up, inching your hips closer to his, feeling his hardness pressing against you. “You like it?” You asked, batting your lashes while you push his jacket off of his shoulders, the blazer landing with an umph onto the floor.

“I do.” He reached up to ghost his fingers over your face, brushing your fake lashes with the gentlest touch, tracing over your nose, your eyebrows, your lined cupid’s bow. “You’re beyond beautiful, darling.”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss underneath his jaw, sucking lightly at his pulse, and he heaved a contented sigh, his hand sliding into your hair. With deft fingers, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt, kissing down his pale chest as you went.

“How do you always manage to disarm me?” He asked, scratching gently at your scalp, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. “I was so angry, then you just—you just chased it away with your sweet little self.”

You preened under his gentle touch, loving that only you got to see this side of him, that there was a Draco you didn’t have to share with the rest of the world.

“I like myself better when I’m with you,” he murmured, tightening his grip on your hair to force you head up. “Like I’m not all bad.”

Your heart cracked, affection making it swell a few sizes too large. “Draco, you are not bad,” you shushed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking his lips. “You’re wonderful, and I love you. All of you.”

He smiled, catching your lips in a deeper kiss. “I love you too, sweet girl.”

“Even if you’ve been a bad Santa,” you tease, flicking the bauble at the end of his hat.

“Santa can’t be bad.” He grabbed you by the throat and shoved you back down, looming over you with a cheeky smirk on his face. “Sweet girls, however, always have a naughty side.”

“Not me!” you giggled.

“Back talk, hm?” He slid his hand down to the top of your dress and pulled it down, freeing your bare breasts. He laved a tongue over one of your nipples, making your eyes roll back when he sucked it between his teeth, biting gently.

Your hips bucked up involuntarily, a cry falling from your lips when your clit ground against his length.

“Where'd my sweet girl go? All I see now is a needy slut.” He lightly slapped your tit he'd just been nursing, making you jump and keen, a deep pulse of arousal making your pussy drip. “You know what sluts get for Christmas?” He asked, undoing the buttons of his trousers. You felt his cock spring out, scalding hot and solid.

You shook your head, already half dumb from his hot and cold teasing, zeroed in on the feeling of his cock nudging against your drooling entrance.

“Fucked,” he growled, and slammed himself to the hilt, splitting you down the middle.

You cried out, arching off the mattress when he withdrew and slammed back in, rebuilding you only to shatter you once more. Your pussy made the most obscene sounds, sloppy as it gripped him. He loosed an unintelligible stream of curses, fucking into you with all the fervor he had when you initially fled the party.

“Fuck, Draco,” you cried, muffling yourself on Blaise's now tousled quilt.

“That's a good girl, cry all you like. I want him to know exactly how hard I fucked you on his bed.” He leaned over you, grabbing one of Blaise's pillows and tucking it under your lower back, elevating your hips so he could hit a new, more intense angle.

“Mmph, so deep,” you whined, stars dancing being your eyes, the coil in your stomach winding tighter with every graze of his cockhead against that ruthless, spongy place inside of you.

“Gonna make a mess of this perfect pussy. Shit, love—so fucking tight f’me,” he groaned, throwing one of your ankles over his shoulder and biting at your calf. “So fucking pretty taking my cock,” he mumbled between kisses along your shin, holding your ankle in a bruising grip to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

You were getting so close, swallowing scream after scream as he pounded you.

“Gonna come for me, sweet girl? Can feel you squeezing harder, soaking my cock.” He released his grip on your hip to smear his fingers over your clit, rubbing back and forth at brutal pace, letting you hear just how wet you were. “C’mon, baby. You're so close—oh fuck.”

You came with a scream, biting down on the quilt in a feeble attempt to quiet yourself as your orgasm tore through you, forcing a gush of moisture from your pussy.

“Merlin, baby. That's perfect, you're doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he praised, sounding a little starstruck, and more than a little excited.

It was like he replaced your blood with fire whiskey, burning, bright, dizzying. You were soaring, awash with bliss as he fucked you through it, moving slower to savor the way you fluttered around him.

You blinked your eyes open, bleary and a cockdrunk.

“There she is,” he cooed, setting your leg down and leaning forward to kiss your cheeks, your nose, your lips. “You alright?”

You nodded, stretching your arms overhead like a tired kitten.

“Not done yet, lovey. C’mere.” He slipped out of you, ignoring your whine of protest and tugged you to the edge of the bed. He tossed Blaise's pillow, now soaked with your release, onto the floor. “On your knees, darling.”

You happily obliged, lowering yourself to the ground and grabbing at his cock before he had a chance to sit. He chuckled, letting you lap at his messy shaft, loving the taste of you smeared on his skin. Marking him as yours.

“All yours, baby. Don't fret.” He stroked your chhek, staring down at you with a lovesick smile. “Look at me.”

You flicked your eyes upwards as you start working your mouth down his cock, taking him about halfway before retreating. He was flushed and breathing hard, his black button down open to reveal his muscular chest, littered with love bites you left behind. The Santa hat was still on his head, slightly askew from the thorough fucking, and his blue eyes were blazing.

He groaned, hand tightening on the sheets. “Baby, your eyes. Got me in a chokehold,” he rasped, hips rocking forward in time with your head.

Evidently, the eyeliner was very much worth it.

You wrapped your hand around the base and increased your pace, close to gagging yourself on his length, your eyes fixed firmly on his reactions.

His head lolled back on his shoulders, throat bobbing as he moaned, mouth falling open. “Fuck, m’already close.”

A trill of pride washed through you and you pushed even further, his head nudging the back of your throat and making your eyes water.

“Shit, thats it, angel. Just like that. Open that pretty throat for me.” He fisted your hair and stalled your movements, his cock buried in your mouth and cutting off your air. “Fuck!” He cried, pulling your head back and grasping his cock, pumping himself against your tongue as the first rope of release splattered against it.

You stuck your tongue out, letting him fill your mouth with his spend while he moaned and cursed, his whole body bowing around you with the force of it.

He milked himself dry, heaving a loud exhale followed by a sly smile, and gripped your chin, tilting your head up for him. “My sweet girl,” he cooed, swiping up a dribble of cum from your chin and feeding it between your lips. “Swallow.”

You did, swallowing down every bit of cum before opening your mouth for him, sticking out your now clean tongue.

He grinned, scooping you up into his arms and raining kisses over your face and neck. “So fucking perfect. How did I get so lucky?”

You giggled, dizzy with delight, and wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling into his shoulder.

"You wanna go back to the party?" He asked, and you scoffed, earning a relieved smile. He tucked an arm under your knees and hefted you into the air, carrying you across the room to his bed. He laid you down and rummaged through his trunk, finding a pair of pajamas you liked, before walking back over to you.

You loosed a big yawn, eyelids heavy, and he chuckled.

“Fucked out, hm?” He teased, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it aside before replacing it with one of his Quidditch t-shirts.

You answered with another yawn, flopping back onto his fancy, silk pillows.

He shimmied a pair of boxers up your legs before tucking you into his quilt, the smell of his expensive body wash wrapping around you as you settled.

He clicked his tongue. “Face towards me, sweetheart.” You turned your head, eyes closed, and felt a cool cloth wipe across your cheek, your eyes, your forehead. Diligently, he removed your makeup inch by inch, careful to not pull or tug. He even let your lashes soak off, counting to thirty under his breath before removing them, instead of just tugging them off. When he was finished, he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Your makeup was lovely, but you are so beautiful as you are “

You hummed in appreciation, eyes still closed, and puckered your lips for a kiss, which he happily provided.

Then he stood and you could hear him moving around the room, picking up your trail of items and righting the room.

“You aren't really gonna leave that on Blaise's bed?” You mumbled, peaking at him over the covers.

“Oh, I certainly am,” he replied, fluffing it up and setting it back where he found it. “Maybe he'll keep his mouth shut next time.”

You rolled your eyes, snuggling back down into the pillows. You wanted no part of their twisted drama.

A few moments later, you felt the covers lift and the bed dip, and Draco’s warm body wrapped around you, shirtless and in sweatpants. He nuzzled into your neck, taking a deep breath.

“You never told me what you wanted for a Christmas?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the curve of your shoulder.

Your brain was sluggish, trying to piece together what you wanted. But you could only think of one thing.

“Dark chocolate frog,” you mumbled, and he burst out laughing.

“Then you'll have an army of dark chocolate frogs, my love.”

Thank you sm for reading!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin boys #christmas fic #smut fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine

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canalriverhub · 2 years ago

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The Middlewich folk and boat festival will be happening this year in June.

#folk festivals #Folk Music #Floating Market #FAB Festival #Middlewich #Trent and Mersey Canal #Canal #Canal Festival

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sunrizef1 · 12 days ago

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Snowman

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: None

Authors Note: lol im alive | Based on Snowman by Sia

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: A Christmas gala with Lewis

The soft sounds of classical instruments float through the lavish ballroom, adding a soundtrack to the vision of beautiful people wandering around the room. Holly leaves and shining crystals decorate the walls, shining brightly above and adding a festive cheer to the atmosphere. There’s a towering Christmas tree against one of the walls, decorated with large baubles and seemingly endless strands of shimmering garland. The ceiling is high, various chandeliers hanging above the party, casting warm, glowing light on the party way down below.

There's a dance floor in the middle, couples waltzing gracefully around it as the seasonally appropriate music guides their moves. There's enough people at this party where, if one couple exits the floor, there’s another one quick to take their place. Especially the older couples. They love a good slow dance.

Waiters gravitate around the room, looking the very picture of poise as they balance their platters. If the slowly increasing cheeriness in the room was anything to go on, it was obvious exactly what genre of drink was being served on said platters.

Flawless people in flawless dress congregate on the edges of the room, conversations ranging from strictly business to the genius of whoever had chosen the decorations for the night.

It was a charity gala, this much was obvious. Whether it be the fact that the age demographic was on the higher end of the spectrum, and therefore so was the wealth, or the sounds of rich laughs echoing about, punctuated by the bragging of philanthropists with too much money all trying to outbid their peers in a maybe less than pure show of charitability.

Whichever it was, you weren’t above any of it. You were present, which would be enough to earn an eye roll from anyone willing to question the intentions of some of the guests' charitable actions. Not that you particularly cared, though. Charity was charity either way.

“It’s been so nice chatting to you Mr. Rockefeller, I’ll be keeping you on that promise to speak more about the London project,” you smile kindly at the older man in front of you, flashing a charming grin in his direction as he starts to turn and return to his beckoning wife.

The man in front of you smiles in response, turning slowly while still surprisingly quickly for a man of his age, “I know you will, hun. I’ll be waiting!”

“I promise not to keep you waiting too long,” You laugh heartily, patting his arm as he shakes his head, “You know I’ve never been one with much patience on these kinds of projects.”

Mr. Rockefeller laughs again, shaking his cane in your direction, “That’s the girl I know, always so eager to help others!”

Your face warms, another polite laugh falling out of your painted lips, “As always. Have a good night Mr. Rockefeller!”

He waves vaguely over his shoulder as he starts to make his way back to his wife who takes the few steps forward needed to be able to meet him in the middle, their arms quickly intertwining, putting a nice bow on their, so far, fifty years of marriage.

You watch them go, admiring the picture of long-lasting love as they smile adoringly at each other. It’s almost enough to make you cry.

You’re so wrapped up in the couple that you almost don’t notice Lewis approaching.

But you do notice. You always do.

You turn your head just as he walks up, his arm slinking over your shoulder. You lean into his side, trying your best to still retain a professional image while sinking into the Brit’s comforting hold.

“Why were you chatting it up with Rockefeller?” Lewis asks, a small grin on his lips as he asks. He takes a sip of the glass in his hand, one large ball of ice floating around in the amber liquid.

“Working on investors for the London project,” You pull the drink out of his hand gently and he’s quick to let you, slipping his now-free hand in the pocket of his dress pants as you both face the room in front of you, “Providing under-privileged kids in London and surrounding areas with karting opportunities.”

“Wonder where you got that idea from?” Lewis muses, humming slightly.

You look up at him, narrowing your eyes with a gentle smirk, “Yeah, I wonder.”

With that, you take a swig of the shallow glass clutched in your hand, blinking suddenly at the taste, “Is this Almave?”

Lewis grins, nodding as he takes the glass back from you. You shake your head with a slight laugh, stepping out of his hold. You start to walk away, grabbing his free hand to pull him along with you, “Come on, I need a glass of real alcohol. No offense, darling.”

Lewis just rolls his eyes, the edge of his lips upturning just a hint, “None taken.”

Those are the words you need to hear to pull him away again, your quiet conversation punctuated by the consistent click of your heels as you pull him over to the bar.

You get your champagne soon after, proceeding to be dragged away from Lewis and pushed, instead, into networking and charity work.

It's a seemingly endless conversation, one rich person being replaced by another as soon as they walk away. Not that you were particularly aggravated about it, though. Your family’s wealth wouldn’t be enough to finance the London project all by itself and it seemed as if your list of potential investors was getting longer by the minute. You were particularly pleased to hear chatter from some of your foreign connections about expanding the project to other cities, including Paris and Barcelona. That is, if the London sector was a success. Which it would be, considering you were the one running it.

But, all that is to say that you were tired of conversing with old rich men and their old rich man friends. The only old rich man you were interested in talking to was the very one you had come in with. Though, this one was at least half the age of all the others.

So you set off to find said man, downing yet another flute of champagne before setting it aside. It doesn’t take much to find him, the man having a natural magnetic energy. It’s almost as if you can just tell where he is even from across the room with how you’re drawn to one specific corner.

You make your way over there, drifting smoothly across the tiled floor with a peaceful smile planted on your lips. When you reach the corner of the room Lewis is in, you slide up to him, slotting yourself at his side. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. But his pull doesn’t hurt or anything, it’s actually rather comforting.

You both rest there for a few moments, reveling in the comfort of each other's presence as you start to de-ravel the knot of social exhaustion that had started to tangle up deep in your soul. It’s quite nice to be able to stand in Lewis’s presence without any other factors messing about. Just you, him, peace and quiet and the soft melody of Christmas music playing in the background.

You gaze out upon the room as you sway with Lewis gently. You watch as couples spin around the floor, pulling each other around and gazing at each other with deeply-rooted love obvious in their eyes. Something about the way they move entrances you, calling out to you and pulling at the yearning in your soul.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion clouding your judgement or maybe it’s the multiple glasses of champagne you just finished but you find yourself pulling away from Lewis’s chest and grasping his hands in yours as you gaze into his eyes.

“Come dance with me.”

You wait anxiously for his response, chewing gently at the inside of your lip as you wait for a reply. Maybe you had been bigging it up in your head because you’re more shocked than you should be when he replies simply with a smile.

“Okay.”

With that, your anxiety about his answer disappears in a heartbeat and you have to stop yourself from laughing as you turn and pull him away. He follows, seemingly more concerned with what you want him to do than his own personal comforts.

You drag him all the way over to the middle of the room just as a new song comes on, the music coming out soft and gentle in tone, with a melody you vaguely recognize from past years of Christmas radio.

You settle into the Brit’s hold, leaning close to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms drift to your waist, holding you near enough where you can practically feel his heartbeat against your chest. You look up at him, watching as he looks over your head at the room around you, making sure you don’t steer into anyone else. You stay like that for a moment, simply watching him as he watches everyone else. You sway gently to the music, floating calmly around the floor. You and Lewis move as one, not speaking but moving in synchronization anyway.

His face is calm. Calmer than you’d seen him in ages, actually. He’s at peace, for once. You bend one of your arms, reaching your hand up to cup the side of his neck, your thumb brushing against his jaw. With the contact, he looks back to you, eyes sparkling as he smiles softly.

“Hi.”

You smile back, tilting your head slightly as your eyes trace the feature of his face, “Hi.”

His lips quirk higher as he watches you, “You having fun?”

You let out a soft hum, “Mhm.”

He hums in response, grinning as he looks back away and looks up at the room around you before looking back, “I’m glad.”

You hum again, leaning your head forward to rest against his chest as your gaze turns to look out across the room. You focus on the rhythm of the two of you swaying back and forth, only truly caring about you and the man you love in front of you.

You always savored moments like these, such peace not coming often. With Lewis being a Formula 1 driver and you managing a multitude of businesses and nonprofits, it didn’t leave much time for yourselves.

But occasionally, you’d get a small moment of peace such as the one you were enjoying right then. You’d learned to appreciate it 100x more than any old Wednesday.

You and Lewis continue to sway, slowly turning in a circle as you move. After a few movements, you’re facing the large windows that look out upon the sprawling courtyard outside. Among the tall, perfectly pruned, trees and ornately-laid stone pathways, delicate snowflakes fall, dusting the yard with a soft layer of white fluff.

A soft gasp leaves your lips, your head shooting up from its place on Lewis’s chest as a smile breaks out on your lips. Lewis looks up as well, moving from where he’d been observing the other side of the room. He hums questioningly, following your gaze toward the windows.

“It’s snowing!” You reply softly, eyes sparkling as you look back towards your lover. You’re met with his eyes already on you, a slight smile on his lips.

“It is.”

You unwrap yourself from his arms, grasping his hand in your own and pulling him along for the third time that night, him being just as compliant as he had been the other two times. You pull him along, holding onto his hand tightly, reveling in the oh-so familiar feeling of his skin on yours. You lead him to a door on the edge of the room, hidden behind an uncrowded hallway, almost no one in sight. The door opens smoothly as you push on it, opening up to reveal a deserted courtyard, a small path winding through it. You step out, placing your heel gently onto the frozen-over steps, careful not to slip and fall.

Lewis senses your hesitation, quickly dropping your hand to reach an arm around your waist to steady you as you lead him down the stairs. You welcome the contact, grateful for his body heat seeping into your quickly cooling skin.

You hurry down the steps as quickly as your precarious heels will let you. As you reach the stone path at the bottom, you take a few steps down the path and toward the middle of the courtyard before stopping suddenly. Lewis almost collides into you, having rushed to keep up with you when you’d suddenly rushed away. But he manages to slow himself down just enough to only brush lightly against your arm. He once again wraps an arm around your waist when he reaches you, pulling you into his side. You melt into his hold.

For the first time since you stepped outside, you are still enough to feel the delicate snowflakes falling onto your skin, the flakes melting back to water just as you come into contact with them. You look up, grinning as you see the snow clouds above you.

“It’s so beautiful,” you murmur, practically entranced by the falling ice above you. It’s peaceful, something you’d been yearning for for months while completely swamped with work. It’s nice.

Lewis hums behind you, “It really is.”

You look back to him, turning around to face the man behind you. But he isn’t looking at the sky. No, his eyes are instead on you. You flush, shying away from his intense gaze. You look back up through your eyelashes with a soft turn of your lips, “I have a feeling you weren’t talking about the snow.”

Lewis looks up, feigning disbelief with wide eyes, “Oh, is it snowing? I had no idea.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, “You’re so dumb.”

Lewis hums, narrowing his eyes with a smirk as he intertwines his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. You’re grateful for the short relief from the cold, “Mmm, you love me for it.”

You tilt your head, similarly to a curious dog, looking deep into the eyes of the man you love, “I do. I really, really do.”

Lewis huffs lightly, leaning slightly closer, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You reply, tightening your hold around him.

A snowflake falls against your cheekbone, your skin having cooled down just enough to let the delicate crystal survive long enough for Lewis to reach a hand up and brush it away, letting his hand linger longer than technically necessary. You don’t mind, leaning into the touch.

“Well,” He starts, “It’s probably good that I love you too.”

You have to bite your lip to conceal the grin that’s trying to split your face, “Yeah?”

Lewis pauses for a few moments, his face softening as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, “Yeah.”

Then you’re leaning in and he’s leaning in and your lips are meeting and you’re melting. You lean as close to him as you can, feeling his lips mold against yours. It’s almost like you hadn’t kissed him a billion times in this life because it feels just as magical as the first. His hand is wrapped around the side of your face, warmth leaking into your own skin.

Snow is melting beneath your feet, soaking into the ends of your expensive dress but you don’t even care, too busy basking in the love radiating between the two of you.

But you do eventually pull away, if for nothing more than breath of air. But the moment isn’t over. It almost never was when you were with Lewis. No matter how much time you spent apart or working, the magic had never faded. You weren’t sure it ever would.

But when the time came for you to head back inside, your hand was clutched tightly in Lewis’, a soft smile on your lips and maybe more than a few melted snowflakes dusting your skin.

Tags:

@casperlikej @evie-119

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #formula one fanfiction #formula one x y/n

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sereinegemini · 4 days ago

Text

Been an Awful Good Girl || D.M. & T.N.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader x Theodore Nott

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Draco and Theo enjoy their bow-wrapped present under the tree.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI smut (dom!draco, dom!theo, sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names, cursing, unprotected sex, cream pie, threesome, slight masochism, male oral, face fucking, cumshot, lyrics from Santa Baby)

Author's Note: Merry Christmas Eve (and Happy Holidays to anyone who doesn't celebrate Christmas)! I wasn't sure if I was going to finish this in time but I've pushed through the past few days and hope you guys enjoy the end result!

Festive Muggle music drifted from your record player, the needle floating lazily atop the spinning vinyl. You were rocking your hips to the beat and placing ornaments strategically throughout the fir tree Draco and Theo had dutifully bought from the lot down the road. You wished you’d been here to revel in them struggling to drag it up the stairs to your third-story flat, but you’d unfortunately had to work a shift at the boutique. With the holidays just around the corner, Muggles were shopping like mad and your boss had asked everyone to pick up extra shifts.

But now you were home, freshly showered and dressed in a silk, gingerbread patterned pajama set. Theo was in the kitchen cooking his famous gnocchi cacciatore soup. At least, it was famous between the three of you and all your friends. And Draco—who had strung the lights throughout the tree for you and hung all of one ornament—was sat back on the sofa with a glass of Old Fashioned and contently watching his girl decorate. A smirk danced its way to his lips every time you stretched up on your tippy-toes to reach the higher branches, the shorts of your pajamas riding up to show off the delicious curve of your ass.

You were currently trying your damndest to reach one of the highest branches, getting nowhere close to the top of the eight-foot tree. Draco, unable to control himself at the sight of over half your ass on full display, decided it was in everyone’s best interest to help you. Especially his. He silently pressed against your back, sliding a warm hand around your stomach where your shirt was lifted. “Need some help, darling?”

You startled for a beat before melting into his embrace. “Yes, please,” you sighed sheepishly.

Still holding you against him, he took the glass ball and held it to a high-hanging branch. “Here?”

“Mhm..” you answered, not even registering where he was holding the bulb. He was leaning into you to reach the tree and his boner was poking into your lower back. The mere pressure of it made your mind go blank and swirl with desire.

“Darling, is there something on your mind?” he asked lowly against your ear, trailing his fingertips along the hem of your shorts. The fiend knew exactly what was on your mind.

“Dray-” is all you breathed, angling your lips towards his. He softly pressed his mouth against yours, tugging you against him. His hand slid into the waist of your shorts and he wasted no time before he slipped a finger into your already wet folds. You moaned needily against his lips, tugging him closer with a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh my, what have we here, amorina?” [Sweetheart] Theo was perched against the doorframe from the kitchen to the living room, his arms crossed smugly. A tent was forming in the front of his slacks, pulling the material taunt around his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight. Were you about to have both of your boyfriends at once? It wasn’t unheard of, but they usually enjoyed you in turns.

“Thought we’d have a light snack before dinner,” Draco drawled, beginning lazy circles on your clit. You jumped at the sensation before melting into his arms, your eyelids drooping in pleasure.

“Hmm, suppose it couldn’t ruin our appetites too much.” They shared devious grins before turning their ravenous gazes to you. Theo slowly trailed his eyes down your body, taking in every curve and inch of skin on display while he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Where do you want us, darling? The couch? The bed?” Draco mumbled against your ear, never faltering his onslaught to your clit. Your legs were beginning to numb with pleasure and if it weren’t for his strong arms around you, you’d very well be on the floor. A satisfied hum vibrated in his throat, “Or how about right here next to the tree?”

Your head swam at the idea, your lust growing tenfold as you imagined them laying you down on the plush rug with the christmas lights twinkling above you—pleasing themselves with your body to their hearts’ content. “Yes,” you gasped, growing ever closer to your climax.

“What was that, cara? [Dear] Use your polite words like the good girl you are,” Theo ordered, coming up behind you and moving your hair to the side so he could place kisses along your neck.

“I- I want you right here. Please..” you begged, gripping onto Draco’s shoulder to ground yourself as waves of release began surging through you.

Draco stopped the pressure to your clit. “As you wish, my love.”

You whined at the loss of his touch and your impending orgasm, but obediently allowed the boys to lay you down beside the tree. Draco resumed kissing you while using his hands to discard you of your pajamas. Your breasts ached once they were freed, arousal and the chilly air of your old apartment delightfully hardening your nipples. Theo ran painter-calloused thumbs over the hardened nubs and you arched your back into his touch before he pulled away, leaving you feeling deprived once more.

Remotely, you were aware of your dark-haired boy digging through a box of christmas decor—but your attention was quickly overtaken by Draco, who had abandoned your mouth to trail kisses and licks to your uncovered skin. He swirled his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, the pleasurable pain caused you to mewl and squirm underneath him, desperate for him to touch you between your legs.

“You’re so pretty when you’re begging for our cocks, amorina,” Theo drawled. He was holding one of the giant red bows you usually tied around the pillars on your balcony. Confusion briefly overtook your arousal, what was he doing with that? You weren’t left to wonder for long though—Draco helped you sit up and Theo aligned the bow with your breasts, pushing them up towards your collarbone when he wrapped the strings around your ribs and securely tied them at your spine. The somewhat rough texture of the bow’s velvet scraped your hardened nipples and you moaned with satisfaction.

You were their present, and you couldn’t wait for them to unwrap you.

“Sei bellissima.” [You’re beautiful] Theo smirked and grabbed your chin, angling your lips up to his. He kissed you with pure dominance, gripping the nape of your neck and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You kissed him back eagerly, getting lost in the taste of ingredients on his tongue and the warmth of his spit spilling into your mouth. You whined once again when he finally pulled away, your mind whirling with arousal too much to form any verbal protest.

“I believe it’s time to open an early Christmas present, don’t you Draco?” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth at the dark lust swimming in his eyes. The coppery tang of blood mixed with the taste of them in your mouth, and you pressed your thighs together for any friction it might grant your aching cunt.

“I believe so, Theo,” Draco agreed, his large hands grabbing at your sides to guide you how they wanted you. “Get on your hands and knees, darling.” You gladly obeyed, wanting to please your boys so they would hurry up and please you.

“Brava ragazza,” [Good girl] Theo breathed, kneading your ass and dutifully lining up behind you. You could hear his belt jangle as he removed his slacks and you arched your back to give him better access to your swollen cunt. You were no better than an animal in heat—you needed them inside you. In front of you, Draco already had his pants off, his stiff cock standing proud against his toned stomach.

“Dray–” You leaned forward to lick up his shaft. His cock twitched at the sensation, and you proudly looked up to find his eyes lidded and his mouth parted with pleasure. Draco bundled your hair into a makeshift ponytail, loosely holding it out of your face with one hand. Leaving a kitten lick to the head of his cock, you sucked the tip into your mouth and moaned as the saltiness of his pre-cum danced along your tastebuds.

Suddenly, you felt Theo run his cock along your folds, quickly lubing himself before pushing into you in one solid motion. Your walls protested as the size of him stretched you out gloriously, before the pain turned to sheer ecstasy and a long moan escaped your lips. The force of his thrust forced Draco’s cock deeper into your mouth and the two boys bottomed out at the same time. They both groaned with pleasure, pulling out slowly before slamming back into you. Their rhythms soon synchronized, Draco thrusting into you whenever Theo’s onslaught to your cunt pushed you towards him.

♪ Ba-boom Ba-boom ♪

Theo’s fingers dug deliciously into your hips, guiding you onto his cock and filling the air with the sounds of skin slapping against skin alongside the festive music still playing across the room.

♪ Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me ♪

♪ Been an awful good girl ♪

Draco had your head pulled back by your hair, creating the perfect angle to hit the back of your throat and causing saliva to drip down your chin. You weren’t sure how much longer your quivering arms could hold you upright with Theo repeatedly pounding against your g-spot. The pressure in your core was becoming too much and your eyes were beginning to roll back from the intense pleasure.

♪ Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight ♪

As though he could sense your impending orgasm, Theo slid a hand around your thighs and began rubbing his forefinger against your clit. Their thrusts became sloppier as their own orgasms grew closer and the force of them slamming into you was causing the bow to slip from your boobs. You felt them bouncing back and forth, the velvet knot falling around your stomach and freeing your painfully full breasts.

“Merlin, you’re so fucking hot when you’re being fucked, F/n. Like our own little sex doll,” Draco growled, letting go of your hair to grab both of your tits like handles. Strands of your hair fell in your face, sticking to your spit and tears.

“Such a brava ragazza, letting us do whatever we want with her,” Theo agreed, landing a hard smack to your ass cheek. You gasped around Draco’s cock, feeling the pressure in your core finally coming undone. “That’s it, cara. Milk my cock. I want to fill you up like a pasticiotti.”

They were pulling you back and forth like a game of tug-of-war, chasing their own climaxes as you shook and turned to putty in their hands. Finally, Theo stilled and your cunt warmed as he released deep inside you. Draco pulled out of your mouth soon after, jerking his hand along his length until his cum showered your face and tongue—which you had stuck out in the hopes of tasting him.

Both men sagged back on their heels, appreciating the view of their girl fucked and painted in their release. “You’re such a pretty whore, amore mio,” [my love], Theo praised, kissing you endearingly once you’d slumped to your back.

Draco pulled the big red bow back over your tits, placing a kiss to your stomach. “Definitely my favorite present under the tree, I might have to use it again.” Despite feeling absolutely spent, his words resparked the desire in your core. They could use you all they wanted—you loved being their pretty bow wrapped present.

It was the season, after all.

♪ Hurry down the chimney tonight ♪

♪ Hurry, tonight ♪

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aventurineswife · 22 days ago

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Hear me out, what if HSR men with a reader who's some kinda mimic based monster who's pretending to be human. They're not bad or anything but just suck super bad at hiding the fact they're not human. My only request is Sunday be in the lineup, but anyone else you think would be fun is fairgame :)

To Live is to Pretend

Summary: During the Charmony Festival, Sunday encounters a mysterious individual—you—who is a mimic-based monster pretending to be human. Despite your awkwardness and strange behavior, Sunday sees through your facade and becomes intrigued by your desire to understand humanity. As the two of you spend time together, Sunday acknowledges your efforts and the shared desire for joy, even in imperfection. Ultimately, he finds something human in you, despite your differences.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Mimic Monster!Reader, Emotional Exploration, Humanity, Fluff.

The glow of the Charmony Festival filled the streets of Penacony with music and laughter, as delicate as the wings of the butterflies flitting through the air. Among the throngs of joyous attendees stood Sunday, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd. His presence exuded a calm authority, every step deliberate, his voice a melody when he spoke. He lived for this—a moment where humanity could forget its struggles, even for a while. But he wasn’t here to simply bask in the celebration. His mind never truly rested.

And you...you were part of his latest dilemma.

Sunday’s sharp eyes had seen many things in his life, yet he could hardly make sense of you. Your smile was too wide at times, your laughter half a second too delayed. The way you moved—a little too fluid, a little too precise—made even the most distracted observer notice something...off. And your hunger. That was a beast of its own. It wasn't human hunger. It was a gnawing, endless craving for sustenance that wasn’t food. Something primal. You hid it, but not well.

Yet you were kind, earnest, and oddly endearing in your awkwardness. Sunday couldn't decide whether you were utterly harmless or an enigma with secrets darker than you let on. He had invited you here today to learn the truth.

“Doesn’t it feel alive?” you asked, looking up at the floating lanterns dotting the evening sky. Your voice wavered slightly, as though calibrating itself to match the tones around you.

Sunday tilted his head. “Alive? How do you mean?”

“They’re like...tiny creatures, glowing, free. Like they’re whispering to the stars.” you explained, your fingers twitching nervously as though rehearsing what a human would do. It was clear you were trying to fit in, but every gesture felt off, as if an artist had painted you from memory rather than reality.

Sunday’s eyes lingered on your face, the halo behind him casting soft light. “You see the beauty of it all, even in ways others don’t.” There was no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. “You’re not quite like anyone else, are you?”

Your movements stilled entirely, an unnatural freeze in the midst of your nervous shifting. “W-What do you mean?” The way your voice crackled betrayed your panic.

“I mean exactly what I said,” Sunday replied, taking a step closer. He loomed, but his presence wasn’t threatening—it was grounding, as though even the world’s chaos would fall silent before him. “You’re different, but difference isn’t a crime. Though I wonder, what is it you truly want?”

Your shoulders slumped, the pretense you’d worked so hard to maintain unraveling before him. “I-I’m not trying to hurt anyone,” you said quickly, stumbling over the words. “I just...I wanted to see what it’s like. To live. To feel.”

Sunday’s expression softened, though his eyes remained sharp. “And this...you mean this festival? Or this world?”

You hesitated. “Both. Humans. I think you call it ‘being human.’ I...I thought I’d try it out.” You chuckled, the sound awkward and hollow. “I’m...not great at it, huh?”

“No,” Sunday said, though the word wasn’t cruel. “But that’s not a failing—it’s an effort. Tell me, do you find joy in pretending?”

The question was so gentle that it made your chest ache. “I don’t know if it’s pretending,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “It’s...wanting. I want to understand. To belong. But it’s hard.”

Sunday studied you for a long moment, his gaze weighing far more than it should. Then he smiled. “Perhaps you’re closer to human than you think.”

Your head tilted instinctively, mimicry of curiosity despite the genuine confusion you felt. “What do you mean?”

“You desire, you strive, and you falter. You want joy but fear pain. It’s the same for them all,” Sunday said, gesturing to the crowds. “Perhaps the only difference is that you know you’re not one of them. Most don’t even see that much.”

As the festival carried on, Sunday remained by your side, the only one who seemed unfazed by your oddities. For the first time, you felt as though someone truly saw you. Not your disguise, not the gaps in your humanity—just you.

And for reasons you didn’t quite understand, you hoped he’d stay.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #sunday #fluff #mimic monster #emotional exploration #humanity #sunday sunday sunday

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fayes-fics · 7 months ago

Text

Breathe (In The Air)

Pariring: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, 1970s AU

Summary: A night camping out under the stars

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, recreational drug use (cannabis), body hair used in foreplay, vaginal fingering, blow job, woman on top, unprotected vaginal sex.

Word Count: 2.6k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon (HERE) asking for a sequel to 1970s hippie Benedict, travelling around in his VW bus selling his artwork at music festivals. Sorry for the gif; there was nothing else that remotely fit. The original story is HERE. The title is a Pink Floyd song. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for the beta. I hope you enjoy Nonny. I do enjoy this AU ngl. <3

“What do you want from life?”

You loll your head to the side to observe his handsome profile as he stares towards the dome of vibrant stars above.

“I have no idea,” you confess, turning to look skywards again, moonlight glowing through the swirl of smoke you exhale, your fingers toying with the tassels of the soft cotton blanket you both lay upon.

“I want adventure…” he declares, rubbing a hand over his bare midriff absentmindedly.

“Hmmm, that sounds wonderful,” you admit, handing him back the joint, that languid feeling enrobing your mind as the THC kicks in.

It's a temperate summer night, and you are lying together naked, tinny strains of music from a portable radio as you camp in a wildflower meadow en route to the next festival. After a series of magical nights with Ben in his VW bus at the last one, you couldn't resist when he offered for you to continue the journey onwards together.

He takes a deep drag, the tip glowing like the campfire you are lying in front of, before placing it aside into a metal ashtray and rolling over so he hovers above you, warm skin upon yours.

“I am glad you are on this adventure with me,” he remarks with a lopsided grin, the captivating beauty of his face dancing in the firelight.

“Same.” you concur, reaching to touch the daisy chain buried in his halo of riotous curls, somehow the blooms looking more vibrant in the serene state you are slipping into.

His hand slides languorously down your body from your throat to your lower belly, mapping your fire-warmed skin before lacing his fingers into the downy hair at the apex of your thighs, stirring that nascent buzz between your legs.

“I think this beautiful garden needs some flowers,” he opines silkily, his fingers circling in the strands there, petting gently as his brow twitches into a tempting arch.

He leans over you and plucks a few forget-me-nots from the tall grass, carefully separating each bloom on your stomach. Then, delicately, he weaves each tiny flower into your small thatch of hair, a mild tickle as the stems brush over your skin, making you giggle quietly. He smiles softly, your eyes meeting, then both tracking down the plane of your body as he continues to work quietly, humming gently along to the music.

“There… perfect,” he pronounces proudly; a few moments later,

It does indeed look pretty: bright blue tiny flowers that contrast strikingly with your hair and skin.

“Even in this, you are an artist,” you quip blithely.

He smiles demurely through his lashes, shuffling lower and resting his head upon your diaphragm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns around your belly button, his breath puffing warm over your flesh. Allowing the jangle of electric guitar from the radio to fill your bones, your fingers run idly through his luscious locks as your mind floats like cotton in a breeze. The moment seems fleeting but everlasting all at once, profound but insignificant, being so small under the twinkling constellations above. It all coalesces into a sharp need to feel rooted in your body. So you draw your knees up and allow your legs to fall open—a blatant invitation. The apple of his cheek presses into your belly as he smirks knowingly without looking up at you, sensing your need without you needing to voice it, so in tune with your body and desires since the night you met.

“Every beautiful garden should have a sacred fountain…” he rumbles, fingertips spidering down again over the floral weave to tease your splayed inner thigh before sliding casually lower, parting your folds, exhaling roughly at the wet warmth he finds there.

You moan; the mellow cloud you float upon heightens the sensation rippling through your being as his fingers circle your clit, his warm lips suckling gently on your stomach as you writhe under his touch. His name is a sigh upon your lips, his movements unhurried but the perfect amount of pressure. He huffs sonorous praises into your belly as he forms a tighter circle over your swollen bud, moving faster now, your hands flying to the blanket, scrunching in your fists as your head rolls to one side, wanting to bite down upon something, the pleasure coursing through you amplified by your high.

Whimpering as he slides his fingers lower, two breaching your body, desire thick and viscous dripping upon him as he pushes further in your pussy. The sensation of his knuckles dragging over your walls makes you gasp and call out, your body arching up off the blanket, a heavy throb in your abandoned clit.

“Please, Ben…” you implore, greedy for more.

He shushes you and unfurls slightly, his fingers flexing inside you as he rearranges to press his whole body into your flank, his cock teasingly hard against your hip, using his free hand to haul one of your legs over his, pulled open to his attention now.

“Don't be impatient; we have all the time in the world,” he tuts sinfully, his lips hot on your throat, grazing the tip of his teeth lightly over your jugular.

Your protesting mewl is cut short by his fingers twisting inside you, a dragging sensation that makes your eyes roll and your whole abdomen clench.

“I could do this for hours,” he confesses silkily, his breath hot on your temple. “I love the look on your face when I do this…”

He curls his fingers, a probing sensation that makes you groan and your face contort, your mouth now hanging open. He chuckles triumphantly before twisting his wrist again and beginning a rocking motion, wringing a sound from your body that, before you met him, you may have been ashamed of, but he lauds every time. Him murmuring how proud he is that he can do this to you.

But it is not quite enough to push you to the edge as fast as you are craving, more of a slow swirling ascent that has you lighthearted and with laboured breathing, your abdomen rippling as all your muscles tense and release in waves, as if willing your orgasm closer, an itch in your brain you need to scratch. It has you pleading with him to take pity, go a little faster, rougher, anything…

“Syncopate, sweet girl…” he purrs, “listen to the music, breathe in the air, float away with the universe…”

Each word is a lyrical wave tumbling from his lips in a rhythm that matches the movement of his fingers inside you. So you relax back, savouring the multisensory journey, allowing the flow to take you rather than chasing immediate pleasure. Something morphing in your body as you do so, a serenity that is bone-deep, riding the gentle waves of pleasure that lap at your edges while his fingers dance lightly upon your g-spot.

“That’s it….” he rumbles approvingly, intuiting your surrender.

He slips down to enclose your areola in his hot, wet mouth, once again causing a spike of pleasure that has you clenching upon his fingers and canting up. A firm hand on your solar plexus pushes you back down with a chuckle that vibrates your nipple, now firm under his tongue. And so he continues the slow, wondrous torture, swapping to your other breast.

You swear you can feel every blade of grass under your shoulders through the soft cotton weave, the energy of every star above you in the sky coursing through his touch deep inside, every note of the song playing reverberating under your skin. A high, so delicate but earthy, as if everything is turned up to eleven on a dial, tangy and bright, like popping candy throughout your entire being.

It's then he swipes his thumb over your engorged clit; you could swear a supernova fires in your synapses, the sensation all at once too much, and with a few flicks, you are clawing at the blanket and his skin, biting your lip, circling that phenomenal bliss.

This time, he doesn't relent, his lips sucking your neck as with a cry that you are sure startles every animal burrowed in the surrounding fields; you are breaking. Almost febrile, your entire being flushing hot, every muscle tensing, your pussy grasping his fingers to the point he growls, driving his stiff cock into your hip, precum smearing over your skin. Still, it’s something you barely sense, your entire focus pinpointed on the sensations coursing through your body.

At last, you fall back, exhausted and panting, feeling his fingers slip slowly from your body with a gush of moisture that leaks across your bottom. You turn your head to look at him, mind awash, unable to form words. His responding smile is smug, crooked and sheer debauchery, his fingers still wet with your arousal, tracing soothing patterns over your ribs as you come down.

“May I return the favour…?” you croak finally.

Before you know it, he is rolling onto his back next to you, an expectant, joyous look upon his face, eyes tracking pointedly to his navel as do yours. His cock standing proud and leaking slightly—a mouthwateringly inviting sight.

He howls, and his whole body flexes as instead of taking him in hand, you dive low and bring his cock into your mouth, so rigid and searing. That tart taste is strong on your tongue as you suckle upon his head, allowing your tongue to press against his frenulum in a cresting wave. He groans staccato, his pelvis tilts, unable to resist the urge to push a little deeper, one hand landing heavy in your hair, twining some strands between his fingers, an anchor he needs as you begin to bob up and down sucking hard, your cheeks hollowing.

The wash of your high enhancing every second, as if in tune with his body—the micro spasms rippling across the plane of his washboard stomach, the flutter of his long eyelashes, the blunt scrape of his rounded fingernails over your scalp, the pulse of his vein on your lips as you slowly allow him to pass through the tight ring of your mouth, teasing him as much as he did you.

You chuckle as he huffs as you pull away and instead lick the length of his shaft with a questing tongue, your hands encircling his base and squeezing softly, enjoying the handful he provides, watching a bead of precum form that you lavishly lick up. He groans again, his head thrashing upon the blanket, the delicate fronds of daisy petals scattering like confetti into his chestnut waves as he does so, his lip flushing magenta where his incisor worries it.

It makes you sit up and stare down upon him wantonly, so utterly beautiful in his untamed arousal. His eyes fly open, glassy and pleading in the campfire glow, pouting fractionally at the lack of your mouth upon his cock, your hand still pumping him gently. Instead, you swing a leg over his and, without a moment of hesitation, sink onto him, inhaling shudderingly at the invasion, your pussy still inflamed from your recent orgasm.

The look of absolute pleasure and reverence that claims his handsome features feels burned into your retinas as his hands fly to your hips, pushing you down flush to his body, his pubic hair tickling your distended slippery clit, his tip rocking into your hilt in a way that makes your eyes roll.

“Don't move, not yet, just feel…” he counsels, his eyes closing, licking his lips and encouraging you, with the flex of his fingers, to rotate your pelvis, to feel him drag against all your walls.

And so you do, scratch your nails delicately down his abdominals as you stare out to the inky horizon where the navy sky meets the blackened outline of the hedgerows in the distance—again, letting the melodic song seep into your bones, feeling the heat from the dancing flames.

You lean back and arch your spine, placing your hands upon his kneecaps, his legs bending slightly to meet your grip. His hands roam upwards, over your belly and ribs, enclosing each of your breasts in his large grip, a beeline right to your core, already a live wire again, desire coursing in every fibre of your being.

Then in a deliberate slow drag, you rise slowly before dropping swiftly, revelling in the way his cock pushes you open. A groan from deep inside your being a match to his—throaty, low, wrecked. You begin to set a languid pace, riding him, gripping his knees behind you and staring at the stars above, feeling as if they surround you, tiny lanterns floating just beyond your reach.

“Look at me,” his call is soft, unfocused, imploring, and you tilt down, your breasts squashed into his palms as your eyes meet, something profound in the glimmer you find in the dilated blackness.

Sex has never been this unrestrained before now. Being with him is liberating, wild and luxuriant every time, be it under the influence or not. But tonight, somehow greater than the previous, an inherently verdant setting, alone in the wilds on a balmy night, away from the crowds always in your periphery at the music festival. A large part of you wanting this to be your new forever—naked and feral, entwined together for a blur of future days and nights. A want to live a primitive life of base urges, to feast and to fuck, to be at one with the land, the seasons and the bounteous simplicity of nature.

Time feels elastic as your thighs start to burn from the exertion. Still, you do not stop, not for a moment, too caught up in the tide slowly rising once more and sensing the same in him. A growing desperation in the way his fingers dig into your flesh, in the wild beating of the prominent vein in his neck, in the rise of his hips to meet yours, spearing up as you bear down so it feels like there will always be the imprint of him inside you.

He calls your name, the callus where he holds his paintbrush catching perfectly over your clit as his fingers quest between your legs, hooking you with unerring precision. Catapulting you fast towards a dizzying high again, his movements growing urgent, his jaw tight, so close to breaking. It is barely a moment before you snap again, stilling upon him as you scream with abandon, fluttering around his rigid cock. He groans loudly and, with a few final jerky spasms, comes hard, his toes curling over, his ropey thighs turning rock solid under your bottom as he fills you, a symphony of praise falling from his lips, some not even in English.

And then you are slumping on top of him, his smooth chest tacky under your cheek as you gulp for air, the rustle of the breeze through the nearby trees and the hiss and pop of the logs upon the campfire the only sounds now, the radio falling silent, likely needing new batteries. He slips from your body as you curl your hands around his biceps and snuggle upon him. His long, lean arms wrap around your torso, enveloping you within the large blanket you were lying upon and dropping a kiss upon your dewy brow.

“We can bathe tomorrow in the river,” he hums gently into your hairline.

You nod drowsily, the pull of sleep too beguiling to resist. And that is how you drift off, resting atop him, his heartbeat strong and steady under your ear, the burbling sounds of nature encircling you.

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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st3f4n01909 · 27 days ago

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Bay to Breakers is an annual footrace in San Francisco, California typically on the third Sunday of May. The phrase "Bay to Breakers" reflects the fact that the race starts at the northeast end of the downtown area a few blocks from The Embarcadero (adjacent to San Francisco Bay) and runs west through the city to finish at the Great Highway (adjacent to the Pacific coast, where breakers crash onto Ocean Beach). The complete course is 7.46 miles (12 km) long.

Bay to Breakers is well known for many participants wearing costumes. The 1986 edition set a Guinness Word Record for being world's largest footrace with 110,000 participants, until that was surpassed by the 2010 City2Surf event in Sydney. Attendance in 2015 was reported at roughly 50,000. That year, Zappos.com signed on as the multi-year title sponsor of Bay to Breakers; the name of the race became Zappos.com Bay to Breakers. As of 2017 the title sponsor of the race is Alaska Airlines.

HISTORY

Started as a way to lift the city's spirits after the disastrous 1906 San Francisco earthquake, it has been run for more consecutive years over a given course and length than has any other footrace in the world; although other footraces are older and have been run for more consecutive years, their courses and lengths have changed over time. During World War II participation sometimes slipped below 50 registrants, but the tradition carried on. With 110,000 participants, the Bay to Breakers race held on May 18, 1986, was recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records as the world's largest footrace. That record number was partly the product of the running boom of the 1980s; currently the average participation is between 70,000 and 80,000. Many participants do not register; of the estimated 60,000 participants in 2008, 33,000 were registered. The San Francisco Examiner, a former sponsor of the race, published a list of the first 10,000 finishers the day after the race each year.

The route is typically dotted with various local bands performing. At the end of the race is a Finish Line Festival, a gathering where participants and spectators can enjoy musical performances by various musical acts.

In February 2009, city officials and race sponsors announced changes to the race regulations. The regulations included an official ban on floats, alcohol, drunkenness and nudity. The changes were made to assuage the concerns of San Francisco residents along the parade route, who say the race has gotten out of hand in recent years. The news sparked outrage amongst many Bay Area residents who said the changes would destroy much that has made the race a national treasure for most of the last century.

2020 and 2021 saw a virtual race run for the first time as a live human race wasn't held. Officials cite the COVID-19 pandemic as grounds for moving the race to online. Entrants for the 2020 race were also given the option to defer their entry to 2021 or get refunded. The race returned as an in-person event on May 15, 2022.

As a race from city to beach, the race emulated the Dipsea Race, an annual race begun in 1905, which goes from downtown Mill Valley to Stinson Beach.

#natural body #naturism #naturist #normalize nudity #nude boy #bay to breakers

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austinbutlerslovers · 2 months ago

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The Chase

Label Mature 18+

🎃 Kinktober One Shot

Summary Benny Cross chases you through the streets on his motorcycle but once he catches you the fun really begins.

🧡Depraved Smut🧡 Dubcon• fingering •P in V• orgasm 🔗 Master List

🎂 Happy Birthday @austinbutlerfly 🎂 (have a fun day ☺️) 📖 Proof reader @purejasmine

@megangovier Thank you so much it’s perfect for October 🧡

The Chase

The autumn night air is filled with excitement, the streets of Chicago alive for a parade. People are cheering and laughing, their voices rising in excitement as the floats glide by.

But you have no interest in the light festivities, you are looking for a different kind of thrill.

You move swiftly through the crowded sidewalks, dodging groups of people, the cool breeze biting at your skin.

The music fills the air loudly as people clap along, but you keep your head down, weaving through the chaos.

You walk into a crowded diner, the smell of fries and coffee filling the air as the usual crowd bustles in and out.

You go straight to the jukebox, flipping through the vinyls trying to make a selection—and that’s when you see him the moment he walks in.

—Benny Cross

He was impossible to miss, all swagger and confidence, his leather jacket on his broad shoulders like a second skin.

The jean vest he wore over his jacket wasn’t just for show either—it bore the unmistakable insignia of his biker crew, the Vandals.

They were infamous in Chicago, the name carrying weight in each corner of the city, and everyone knew to keep their head down as he walked past.

But Benny was the kind of trouble you couldn’t ignore—handsome in a way that made you look twice, and tonight, that trouble set his eyes directly on you.

He scanned the diner as he came in, looking at you for just a moment, a slow, knowing smile on his lips.

And that was all it took.

Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe it was just the way his eyes lingered on you for that one moment, but you were mesmerized.

You should’ve left well enough alone, you should’ve looked away, but something in you couldn’t help it—the thrill, the danger, the way Benny Cross made your heart race.

So as you walk past him, you make sure to bump into him, casual enough not to raise suspicion but just enough to get close.

Your hand slips into his back pocket with a practiced ease, your fingers curling around the leather of his wallet. He doesn’t notice, not immediately anyway—because who would ever steal from Benny Cross?

By the time you walk was past him, its already in your jacket, your heart pounding.

You dont look back. You couldn’t.

You know you shouldn’t have done it, but it doesn’t matter now. What matters is you got away with getting your quick thrill… or so you thought.

The parade has just ended, and the streets are littered with streamers and confetti, the crowd slowly dispersing as people head home in small groups, their laughter and voices carrying into the night.

-That’s when you hear it.

The echo of Benny’s motorcycle roaring through the streets behind you, the engine a low, menacing growl that cuts right through the cool October air.

Your heartbeat quickens—because you know he’s figured it out and you know exactly what he wants now.

-He’s after you!

Without warning, you break into a sprint, quickly weaving through clusters of people, your breaths coming in fast, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

You can hear Benny’s bike as he tracks you and he’s getting close—too close.

And that’s when you realize you’ve run too far ahead of the crowd, singling yourself out.

—Bad luck.

Benny spots you right away, the sound of his bike engine revving kicks your adrenaline into overdrive.

Gasping for breath you see an alley ahead and push your self faster, your heart pounding against your ribs as you dash in.

You’re trying to put as much distance between you and Benny as possible, but his engine only grows louder and you throw a glance over your shoulder to be sure.

—Bad idea.

Benny is right there, his eyes locked on you as he leans in on his bike turning into the alley, his headlight illuminating your every move.

He isn’t just catching up—he’s on you!

Every time the bike revs, it sends a jolt of panic through you the sound echoing loudly off the alley walls pushing you forward, making your heart hammer even harder in your chest.

You exhale, glancing around desperately for some escape route.

Ahead, the alley narrows, the walls closing in, dumpsters and crates forming an obstacle in your path and you know he won’t be able to follow you through on that bike.

You easily weave through the clutter, your breaths coming in quick as you do.

But just as you clear the blockage, the sound of his engine cuts abruptly, and you hear the heavy thud of his boots hitting the pavement.

—He’s coming after you on foot!

Benny Cross is running full-speed at you, his footsteps pounding against the pavement, and he’s much faster than you, he’s right behind you!

“Hey fucking stop!” he shouts, his voice dark with malice, the sound cutting through the alley.

Your chest is heaving, your veins going cold with dread seeing the alley closing to a dead end.

Your hand goes into your pocket, feeling the wallet you’d taken, wondering if it was all worth it now.

Before you can make another move, Bennys hand grips the collar of your jacket, yanking you back. You stumble forward gasping for breath, as his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him.

“I said stop!” Benny yells, turning and pushing you against the cold brick wall of the alley.

His body cages you in, his grip firm and unrelenting as his steely blue eyes burn with a fierce anger, making it clear he isn’t letting you get away.

“What do you think you’re doing, hm?” he asks, his eyes searching your face in the dim lighting.

Your chest is heaving, still trying to catch your breath, and you don’t even answer, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through you, your pulse thundering in your ears.

There’s a shift in his expression as he looks at you, his intrigue growing as his gaze lingers on your features and then his eyes slowly trail down your body.

His hand reaches into your jacket pocket, fingers brushing against yours as he pulls his stolen wallet from your grasp, his gaze lingering intensely as he holds it up between you.

“You thought you could get away with this?” he asks, his voice laced with intrigue as he returns it securely to his back pocket.

You shoot him a defiant look, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Maybe …I wasn’t trying to get away,” you retort, your breath catching feeling a wave of heat flood through you having him so close.

He’s pressed against you, the scent of leather and a faint trace of smoke clinging to him, making him even more intoxicating.

“What were you trying to do then?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, his gaze deepening as it sweeps over you, taking in every small reaction.

You look up at him, your face flushed as your lips part, because in the midst of everything, the truth is undeniable—you are drawn to him—irresistibly attracted to his danger in every way, and now you have him.

He catches it, that spark of attraction, his eyes shifting with a subtle recognition as the tension between you changes into a different kind of charge.

His gaze lingers on your parted lips as you hesitate to answer and a slow knowing grin spreads across his face.

He leans in close, so close that his lips brush the shell of your ear. “The next time you want my attention,” he whispers, the words slow, savoring the moment as his grip on your jacket loosens “…just ask for it.”

His words hit you like a spark to kindling, igniting a rush of heat that spreads through your entire body. His attention is exactly what you want.

His eyes lock with yours now fully aware of the effect he has on you and his fingers lightly begin to trail down your body with an agonizing slowness.

His touch is soft, almost intimate, as his hand glides down to your waist but it carries the weight of his dominance—an unspoken reminder that he’s caught you and isn’t about to let you forget it.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing, your heart racing in your chest as his hand lingers, just barely grazing your side, the contact sending sparks of heat through you.

“I should be mad,” he muses, sliding his thumb along your waist, testing the limits of how far he can push.

“But I think I like the way you play,” he reveals, his fingertips slipping into the waist band of your skirt.

His touch is confident and knowing, making it impossible to ignore his intentions, and the way he looks at you makes it clear—he’s in control, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

You bite your lip, the urge to lean into his touch becoming overwhelming as a surge of adrenaline rushes through you reminding you of the chase that led you here.

“You like playing with danger?” he asks, his voice low, his gaze flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes, and the way he looks at you tells you everything you need to know.

—He’s going to take what he wants.

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die on your lips as he says, “Well, now you’ve got it,” his voice rough and heavy with need and you don’t even try to stop him as he leans in, his lips claiming yours in a hard, possessive kiss.

His other hand dips to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him and you gasp against his mouth as his hand slips lower, his fingers grazing your panties as if daring you to deny him.

“You should’ve known better,” he whispers against your lips, his voice dark and intense. “Taking what’s mine… this is what happens.” He confirms his hand gliding lower.

You barely have time to react before his fingers push their way into your panties. The alley beyond you becoming nothing but a blur as his fingers thrust into you rough and urgent, like he can’t get enough.

His mouth moves to your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin as he thrusts them even harder inside you, the slick wetness coating his fingers.

You let out a low moan, feeling how soaked you are as the pressure builds between your thighs, his touch igniting something deep and uncontrollable within you.

“You like getting caught?” he rasps, his voice low and taunting, his breath hot and heavy against your ear and his fingers thrust faster, relentless now, his control slipping as his own need takes over.

“Yes,” you manage to gasp, the word barely a whisper, almost lost in the rush of sensation overwhelming you.

“I thought so,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear, his fingers thrusting faster bringing you close to the edge.

“Gonna teach you a lesson about me” he says with a rough grip pulling your thigh up and pressing you harder against the brick wall, his body closing the space between you.

“You’re gonna take this lesson well,” he rasps as his other hand moves quickly, yanking down his zipper.

In one swift motion, he pulls your panties aside, his fingers slipping away, only to be replaced by the hard urgent tip of his cock.

You cry out as he pushes into you with one powerful thrust. He’s raw and unyielding—his pace rushed as his body claims yours without hesitation.

A moan rises in your throat, your breath quickening as your muscles tighten around him. Each thrust igniting a fire in you as he takes control.

“You wanna take something from me?... I’ll give you something to take,” he whispers against your ear, his voice dark and teasing.

With a sudden forceful thrust, he drives into you harder, pressing you firmly against the rough brick wall and a loud moan escapes your lips, as the pleasure floods through you.

The heat of him, the roughness of him, the way his lips claim yours again—it all blurs together until you can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the way he makes you feel.

The tension coils tighter and tighter within you until his intensity is consuming every thought, every breath.

Before you know it, you begin to orgasm, your face pressing to his shoulder as desperate cries escape your lips feeling the waves of pleasure over take you.

Your inner walls tighten on his cock pulsing with each thrust, and you begin to loudly moan against him drawing him in deeper as you ride out the high.

Benny groans from his chest as he pulls out, his grip tightening on your hip.

His other hand wraps around his cock, roughly stroking it as he comes hard, his release spilling in thick streams along the alley way floor.

For a long moment, neither of you move, breaths still heavy and uneven as you come down from the intensity of the moment.

Benny leans back slightly, as he catches his breath. A smug grin on his lips as if he’s just won some kind of prize.

His fingers linger on your waist for just a second longer, as if to remind you he could take more if he wanted.

Then with a satisfied smile, he leans close, his lips grazing your ear.

“Next time you think of taking something from me you better ask first.” He whispers as he tucks his cock away in his jeans. “Or you better be ready to handle the consequences.” He adds with a wicked grin.

His words are a challenge, laced with danger and excitement, making your pulse race as you feel the weight of his promise linger in the air between you.

As you begin to straighten your skirt he steps back, that same easy confidence in his stride as he heads back toward his motorcycle.

He gives you one last look as he kick starts the engine, his grin still firmly in place, the silent promise in his eyes.

The intensity of his gaze makes it clear—he’s daring you to push him, and you know he’s more than ready to make you pay for it.

The roar of his engine echoes down the alley as he rides off, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding in your chest, and you bite your lip as you watch him go, knowing full well this isn’t the last time you’ll make Benny Cross chase after you.

🎃 End 🎃

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️Always Tag Me List @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @magicovento @umika @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @psycheetamore @aust-een @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @feralgodmothers @finley-08 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @ifuckindontknow @kaelatargaryen @darknightmareobject

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List @ashelybutler @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @fallout-girl219

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ghcstao3 · 2 months ago

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(cw mcd but not in like? a sad way? bittersweet/ambiguous ending at worst but it’s overall hopeful and happy i swear)

(also cw for descriptions of death/dying. not very graphic)

Simon Riley dies alone, buried six feet deep in a Mexican desert. He had scrabbled at his coffin lid until his fingers were raw and bloody and stuck with splinters, then there had been a growing tightness in his chest, and then there had been nothing.

A month ago, Manuel Roba had made the mistake of leaving another soldier buried with the rotted corpse of their former CO, and they had escaped, just barely, with the help of a broken jawbone—until, of course, they were shot point blank once the soil loosened, because Manuel Roba would never be far.

So Simon does not get the same opportunity. Simon does not get to succeed in getting out.

And, ever the restless soul, his ghost wanders. Wanders until he comes upon a town whose name he can’t quite discern in the strange, phantasmal distortion that clouds his senses. But he can hear the buzz of chatter and music, feel the emotion of bodies alive, and so he decides to stay in this unnamed town, wandering, at least until his undetermined eternity runs out.

John MacTavish dies alone, in a Mexican town by the name of Las Almas. He had fought tooth and nail to survive, until blood loss had made him too sluggish, then there had been a second bullet, and then there had been nothing.

No one had predicted Graves and Shepherd’s betrayal, and it had stung. Then with Rodolfo nowhere to be found, Alejandro captured, and no one to help with his escape, John had been left on his own, with nothing. He had nothing to staunch the bleeding of the bullet wound in his bicep, had no weapons to protect himself from the droves of Shadows roaming Alejandro and Rodolfo’s home town, had no way of knowing the church would not serve as sufficient refuge.

He killed the Shadow sitting in wait, but not before they managed to lodge a bullet in his abdomen, and he had realized, then, that it was hopeless to think he could still get out. So, with what little was left of his strength and adrenaline, John deposited the Shadow outside, barricaded himself in, and slumped into a rickety pew until the world faded from around him.

And, ever the restless soul, his ghost wanders. Las Almas becomes John’s home, though it always remains unfamiliar through the otherworldly haze that dilutes his senses. They’re a strong people here, and they rebuild after the Shadows’ brief but cruel rampage, and it’s enough for John, feeling infected by their resilience, to be satisfied with spending the rest of his unknown eternity floating through the town.

At first, neither Simon nor John understand how or why they meet.

It isn't as if they are the only two spirits roaming Las Almas—really, the town is chock full of ghosts, as are most towns and cities and even individual buildings, but paths seldom cross. The afterlife is lonesome, and though it really isn't so terrible, that isolation is only inherent to the nature of death, and so it truly shouldn't be possible that they should ever encounter one another.

And yet, one night—a date they are both unsure of, as time becomes mostly indecipherable once departed from the land of the living—it’s like that fog disappears, that veil lifts, and suddenly the world has become clear once more, clear like both John and Simon had forgotten.

Las Almas seems to be brimming with more life than usual, music and dancing, food and gatherings. John is in awe—despite the festivities, however, he’s also filled with a profound sense of melancholy, mourning everything he’s missed since his passing; since his perception had been reduced to something murky, like he was underwater, looking up and hearing sounds but never quite able to make any of it out. He doesn’t know how long this might last, so he takes advantage of every second—that’s how he eventually stumbles upon Simon Riley.

Simon—he’s heard of Día de los Muertos before, but never quite understood the tradition. His experiences in Mexico were limited, culturally and otherwise, and so it comes as a surprise when he finally feels like he’s living again—but walking through Las Almas, as he finally learns its name, it only takes seeing some ofrendas and listening into conversations to understand what this is, and that it’s only temporary. He is not really a physical being anymore, but he can at least pretend like he is, and that’s how he eventually comes across John MacTavish.

John feels lost, though he’s been haunting these streets for some time now. He spots Simon hanging back in the shadows, notices for the first time that’s it’s someone actually looking at him, not through or past him, and he all but runs up to the man, afraid that if he were to take too long, John might lose his only chance at company.

“You can see me,” John says, breathless.

“I can see you,” the man agrees, the weight of his gaze solid and unwavering.

John wishes to melt alongside the honey-gold flecks in the man’s warm, brown irises, and endeavours to memorize their colour in case he should never get this opportunity again.

“Are you also…?”

A curt nod. “I am.”

John shifts awkwardly. “Do you know what—“

“Day of the Dead,” says the man, not unkindly, though he isn’t necessarily being friendly, either. Obviously, he’s not one for talking—that, or he’s gotten too used to being alone. John doesn’t really care either way. “That’s why there’s so many… people.”

Spirits, the man means, just like the two of them. John feels stupid for not having noticed sooner, and feels his face tingle with a blush. It’s odd, realizing that that’s something he missed about being alive.

“So…” John drums his fingers on either of his thighs, the only thing he’s been able to touch all evening. “You come here often?”

When the man barks out a laugh, John thinks it’s the best thing he’s ever heard, dead and alive. He hopes, somehow, some way, to carry it with him throughout the remainder of his non-existence, however long that may be.

“Are you really hitting on me?” The man asks with incredulity, smiling, and John feels a grin growing on his own face, involuntary and so very welcome.

John shrugs. “Why not?” He surely looks like an idiot right now. He honestly thought he’d forgotten how to smile. “Didn’t think I had any loved ones here, but guess I was wrong.”

It’s dumb and cheesy but John guesses that it works, because suddenly he’s learning the other spirit’s name is Simon, and suddenly Simon is asking if Johnny would like to take a walk with him, and suddenly John finds himself saying yes.

So they wander aimlessly, chat about everything and nothing, and it’s nice, so nice, to get to feel like they’re real again. Even bittersweet as it is, once the sun starts to rise and crowds seem to thin, and John realizes he can’t quite recall the colour of Simon’s eyes anymore.

It’s in a church, the church, where they finally decide to settle and accept the inevitable. Simon still doesn’t understand why they also got to reunite with the living while being strangers to Las Almas, but he doesn’t voice this concern, instead choosing to focus on imagining the warmth of John’s presence beside him as the world starts to fade again, piece by piece.

“I think I’ve been ready for a while now. To move on,” Simon murmurs, staring ahead at the altar, the swathes of glowing candles. “If that’s even how this works. I think I’m just… afraid of what else there might be.”

“I’m not sure,” John admits. He wishes he were able to lean his head on Simon’s shoulder, or intertwine their fingers. “I’ve never thought about it. Don’t think it’d be so bad.”

They’ve only known one another for a few hours, certainly, but John can still sense Simon’s inner turmoil as he nods and hums and stares off into the distance. John wonders if, maybe in another life, they might’ve had a proper chance to have a thousand more conversations before this one. A proper chance to actually build something between them before they find themselves clinging to the dregs of almost-corporeality, just wishing for more time, or maybe something better entirely.

“I’ll go with you,” John adds unthinkingly, feeling his phantom heartbeat jumping in pace. “I don’t really have anything to stay for. That way we’d at least have something familiar.”

“I don’t know if I’d call you familiar,” Simon teases, a faint smile on his lips. “But I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” John says. “Because I wasn’t really giving you a choice.”

Simon laughs quietly, and John grasps desperately onto the sound as he closes his eyes and allows himself to be submerged again. When he opens his eyes, as he expected, the world is as it was before, blurry and distant and incomprehensible.

But this time, it isn’t nearly as lonely.

#since i had no halloween post this year #slightly early little bit of día de los muertos :)#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

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thewritetofreespeech · 2 months ago

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Night 221: Liar’s Night

words: 1.7K rating: E pairing: Gale x Tav summary: A night for tricks & treats at the annual Blackstaff Academy Masquerade Ball. An certainly more treats than tricks that Gale had hoped for. tags: kinktober - masquerade, f!oral, public sex, fluffy smut

Ao3 - 1000 Night Series

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Gale huffed as he adjusted his mask, trying to straighten it. It was rather itchy too. He wished he could have just used a glamour like some many of his colleagues tonight.

Liar’s Night. A festival in honor of Leira & Mask, gods of trickery, deception, and illusion.

It was often celebrated with people dressing up in costume to ‘trick’ the gods into thinking they were someone else. Though celebrated up & down the Sword Coast, in Waterdeep, the celebration was very elaborate. As home to one of the greatest magical academies, people took their effort in the illusions very serious.

None more so than the academy itself.

As a student, Gale often wondered what the professor’s masquerade ball was like. The smaller celebration for students was often quite involved, so he had to assume that the professor’s was over the top. It did not disappoint. The main ballroom had been decorated with beautiful crystals straight from the Underdark and beyond. Intricate weavings of pumpkin vines from some of the best herbologist magicians this side of the druids. Candles floated in mid-air, a common trick, but would change on their own with the tempo of the music played by an invisible orchestra. Seeing his colleagues unbutton their collars for a bit, dressed so unique & silly, was also quite impressive.

“Gale my boy, where is that enchanting wife of yours?”

“Hard to say, Elminster.” Though not on staff at the academy, a wizard of Elminster’s acclaim was welcome at any magical gathering. And Elminster would go just about anywhere with free cheese. “It’s a little hard to see with this mask.”

“Hmmm…her suggestion, I take it?” The older wizard asked. Though not really asked, as he seemed to already have his answer before Gale nodded. “I thought as much. Do not take this the wrong way, my boy, but I would not have thought a proud peacock like you would cover put his visage so willingly.”

“Did you just call me vain Elminster?”

“Not so much ‘vain’ as more….proud of your appearance. And which you should be, my boy. Enjoy your looks and your youth while you can. They will be gone from you sooner than you know.” The older man huffed a little, seeming defeated by the weight of his own years a bit, before he sipped his wine. “I will leave you to search for your mate then. Do say goodbye before you leave though.”

“We’ll find you by the buffet I take it?” Gale quipped as his old mentor departed.

Alone in the crowd for a moment, Gale continued to try and scan the room for his wife. She had said that she would met him at the party, saying it was silly for him to come all the way back from classes just to return a few hours later. Gale said he didn’t mind what man would, arriving at a party with a beautiful woman on his arm but she insisted.

“Excuse me kind sir,” he turned around at the gentle tap on his shoulder, thinking it was someone looking for the loo again, and felt all the air rush out of his lungs, “could you direct me to the nearest stream?” There before him was Tav. His beautiful Tav. Dressed in what he could only assume was a water nymphs costume.

The intricate, flimsy material moving around her body like waves on the sea. The flecks of sparkle like moonlight blinking in the sea. Her mask, not nearly as cumbersome as his, just some delicate pieces of white coral by her temple with makeup over her eyes. Clearly her inspiration that of the Umberlee charges they helped while in the Gate. But where they looked ready to slay a man in divine vengeance for their Bitch Queen, Tav looked as if she would lure a man to the sea, who would willingly follow as a sacrifice to the Mother of Oceans for just one more glance at her.

“There…there are no streams here.” Gale replied. Collecting himself and turning fully towards her. “But there’s a pretty large fountain in the south corridor I could interest you in.”

Tav giggled. The sound like sea breeze through a chime. “I suppose I will have to make do. What’s a handsome man like you washing up on these shores?”

“I’m looking for someone.” Gale told her. “A missing love.”

“Missing? Oh, how horrible.” She stepped closer and placed her hand at his chest. Even with the thick cut of his jacket he could feel her pulse there. Although maybe that was his own heart. “Anything I can do, to help a poor lost sailor?”

Gale clasped her hand and, without a word, cast Dimensional Door. Suddenly, they were no longer in the thick of the party but in a secluded, unused portion of the ballroom. Gale torn off his mask and threw it to the ground somewhere in the dark before he kissed Tav feverously.

“Where did you get this dress?” He asked when he finally let her go.

“I made it.” She told him; would her wonders never cease. “I thought it would be a cute couples costume. Nymph and pirate.”

Suddenly his outfit made sense. Gale hadn’t questioned it. Interested in the party but less on what he was wearing, and trusted her judgement. “Well then, it seems I have caught myself a nymph in my net.” Gale replied. Falling back into ‘character’. “According to legend, that entitles me to three wishes for your freedom.”

Tav giggled again. “Alright. What are your wishes, handsome sailor?”

“I want to taste you.”

Gale kissed Tav again, deeper this time, before he moved down to her neck. Her skin tasted like salt. Gale wondered if she had added it to make her costume that much more authentic, or if it was just his imagination. He moved further down. Kissing the patches of skin her costume left dangerously bare as he moved the kneel in front of her. “Gale,” Tav hissed quietly, “we’re at a party!”

“You said you would grant me any three wishes.” He reminded her. Her blush an intoxicating contrast with all the blue. “This is my wish.”

With no further complaints from Tav, Gale moved the ruffles of her skirt aside. Letting them fall over him like a curtain as he reached up to spread her legs and lapped at her center. His wife moaned. Fingers gripping into his shoulders at the hem of her skirts to keep quiet. Gale used his practiced tongue to work her open. Moving one leg carefully onto his shoulder by her hand to give him more room. Taste her deeper. He was pleased to feel Tav buck her hips against him in a soft cadence. Using his mouth to gain her pleasure. His cock straining in his pants in reply.

In the quiet dark of their little corner, Tav moaned between the bite of her bottom lip as she came for him. Her sweet ocean coating his tongue before he pulled out from under her skirts. “Everything you wished for?”

“And then some.” Gale replied. Looking up at her with reverence before he stood to his feet. “For my next wish, I wish to be inside you.”

“Yes please.”

Tav wasted little time helping him unlace his pants and hike up her skirts again. Gale was pleased with her eagerness. Maybe it was the moment, or the fact that they were still at his work party, but she seemed quick to join with him; compared to their usual slow & passionate love making.

Gale held on to Tav’s legs when she wrapped them around his waist. Using the wall to brace them before he slid his cock inside. His little nymph moaned. Clinging to him as he fucked her. Thrusting in & out with ease from the wetness of her orgasm and tongue just moments ago.

“Don’t stop.” She begged him. “Feels so good. Don’t ever stop Gale.”

How Gale wished that could be true. To be joined with her always. To be one forever and feel her around his cock for eternity. Sadly though, all good things must come to an end, and the wizard grunted as his hips stopped. Coming deep inside her.

Gently, he let Tav down and allowed them to adjust themselves. Gale groaned as he straightened his back. The lower part tense from the strain and his impulse decision to lift his wife. Well worth it, but he was paying the price now.

“Shall we go back to the party for a bit, my love?”

“Yes we…Oh…Oh dear…” Tav giggled as she looked at Gale. Covering her mouth as she snickered. “Your face is covered in blue.”

Gale was surprised, although he really shouldn’t be, and touched his cheek to find blue paint at his fingertips. “Nine hells…” It was probably in his beard too. It would not do to go out looking like this; their disheveled appearance already a dead give away that they had not been taking in the pumpkin displays nor the night air.

“Think we can sneak out the back?” Tav asked.

“Now that you mention it, I just so happens I know a way to sneak out through this back hall.” A memory for his school days that was proving quite useful.

The couple snuck out through Gale’s hidden escape route and out off the campus to head back home. Once there, he took Tav in his arms again. “Sorry my impulsiveness ruined your costume. And the chance to show it off.” He apologized. “You just looked so lovely. I couldn’t help myself.”

Tav chuckled at his apology and offered him a kiss. “No need to be sorry. We’ll be better prepared for next year I suppose.” Gale smiled. Delighted at the thought of next year. And the year after that. And the year after that.

His wife wrapped his arms around his neck to stare lovingly at him. “You never told me your third wish, sailor.”

Gale grinned. He tilted her chin up, holding just before their lips touch to whisper, “Forever.” His one wish. His only wish for a very long time.

Tav leaned up to seal their lips together. Like the stamp on a contract. “Done.” She told him. “Now, handsome sailor,” Gale grunted as Tav hopped up into his arms. His lower back whining again as he held her up. “You’ve caught yourself and sullied a fine nymph this day. You’ll have to clean her up.”

“Oh yes, woe be unto he who interrupts a nymph’s bathing rituals.” He teased back. His cock already getting excited again as he carried her to their bathing suite. Eager to show his water nymph how long he could hold his breath for.

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sodapopwrites · 3 months ago

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a ballad of flame and shadow part one

images are not mine! all artwork credits go to termesart for their beautiful drawings!

pairings - lucien vanserra x rhysands sister!reader, azriel x rhysand's sister!reader.

series summary - what's easier to love? a crackling flame or a spiraling shadow? rhysand's sister, emissary of the night court, finds herself delving into her feelings for the seventh son of the high lord of the autumn court while pushing aside something possibly deeper she feels for the night courts infamous spymaster.

chapter summary - before amarantha's party, the emissary of the night court, rhysand's sister, seeks out her lover in the spring court in an attempt to issue a warning of what's to come. she finds a small comfort in his warmth much to the disapproval of her family back home, especially a certain shadowsinger.

word count - 1.6k

read the rest of the series here!

Music floated through the air around her. Fae danced around her in whooshes of color and laughter. She observed the festivities raging around her with a cool separation.

Her black dress a sharp contrast to the bursts of color covering every person and every inch of her surroundings. The bottom of her dress swished around her ankles with every warm spring breeze. The glittering blue embroidery is a sharp contrast to the sweet pastels adoring the clothes of the revelers.

Every inch of her out of place.

She heard her name wrapped in an all too familiar voice.

Cinnamon and crackling flames. The smell wafted towards her like ember red leaves falling to the ground. She straightened her spine, a small show of composure. She felt him before she saw him. At her back, his breath fanning across the side of her neck as he leant down to whisper in her ear.

“I never knew shadows celebrated the summer solstice.”

She turned slowly, facing him at last.

Lucien Vanserra.

Small braids weaved their way through the fiery river of hair flowing over his shoulders. His eyes glitter with something roguish as he watches her eyes flit from his hair, across the planes of his chest, and down the tall expanse of him, before coming back up to meet his gaze.

“I’m here on business.”

“So you came to spoil the fun.”

She let her eyes roll before her hand came up to pull on one of his carefully woven braids. She twirled it between her fingers.

“Who said emissary business can’t be fun?”

He leaned down, closer to her now than he should be. The tip of his nose just brushed hers. His lips mere millimeters away from her own. It was like they shared one breath.

≻──────────────⋆✩⋆ ──────────────≺

The music of the celebrations outside were muted against the windows. An easy quiet flowed through the room as he watched her dress. Slowly pulling the straps of her dress back over her shoulders. She flipped her hair away from her face and he let himself be mesmerized by the way the curls, black like shadow, tumbled down her back. He stretched his arms over his head and let them settle there. Content to watch her flit around his room trying to find her shoes. A small smile snaked its way across his face as he watched her grow more frustrated in her search.

He leaned down and picked a silver slipper from the ground next to his bed. He let it dangle from one finger.

“Looking for this?”

She turned to him and let out a huff of irritation. She grabbed for her lost shoe but missed as he moved his hand a little further. Losing her balance she fell across his chest and he used his free arm to pin her.

“So what was the business you came to discuss with me?”

She glared at him, still reaching for her shoe. Realizing it was a losing battle she gave up and slumped against him, maybe even letting herself savor the feel of his skin against hers, the warmth of it.

“My brother wishes to meet with Tamlin”

Lie.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for explanation.

“Is he going to try to kill him again?”

She scoffed and pushed away from him, “You really do know nothing Lucien Vanserra”

He winced at the name, the harshness with which she said it.

“Don’t”

A small warning. Don’t inflict his family name on him. The reminder of it a petty way to rip him from the sanctuary of the moment. A flicker of guilt lit behind her rib cage and she let the haughty draw of her shoulders fall.

“Rhysand just wishes to issue a…warning.”

Lie. She had come of her own volition. Wanting to warn Lucien and only Lucien about what her brother thought was to come.

“A warning?”

She looked at him. Tight lipped. A small crease in her brow. And he just couldn’t help himself. He reached up and smoothed that crease with his thumb. A feather light touch that seared its way into her skin.

“The war may be over, but there are still enemies to be dealt with. People who we shouldn’t be so willing to put our trust in.”

“You sound just like him,” Lucien sighed, “Always telling me not to put trust in anyone.”

The crease returned. The comparison to Tamlin sending a spark of rage down her spine. The knowledge that Tamlin knew exactly what Lucien got up to every time she visited sent a churning to her gut that she couldn’t bring herself to calm.

“So why trust me?”

Her words came out softer than she’d intended. Like she was asking some unspoken question. He smiled, brushing an inky strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve always had a bad habit of letting myself get distracted by beautiful things.”

The playful glimmer in his eye contrasted sharply with her serious expression. He sighed and handed her the shoe still dangling between his finger tips.

≻──────────────⋆✩⋆ ──────────────≺

Her family was scattered around the lower level of Rhysand’s townhouse. Mor and Amren sitting in the dining room pouring over some books and whispering to each other. Cassian, Azriel, and the high lord himself lounging in the living room.

She tried her best to slide into the room unnoticed.

Late.

She had missed dinner and she had no good alibi.

She prayed no questions would be flung her way as she slid onto the couch, tucking herself under Cassian’s arm. The shadowsinger found her eyes first. They flitted over her form, studying it for anything even slightly out of place. His eyes narrowed as he took her in and his shadows curled tighter around his forearms.

Rhysand didn’t bother to look up from his stack of papers and sent a bored question her way,

“Where have you been?”

She shrugged and watched Azriel shift in his seat in what could have been discomfort. Cassian saw it too, the way his friend tried to hide his annoyance at her absence. He wore a wicked grin as he turned towards her, leaning into her, and mumbling,

“New perfume?”

She looked up at him confused for a second, “Excuse me?”

“You smell faintly of…” Cassian rolled the word around on his tongue, “autumn”.

Rhys looked up at this and studied his sister. Cassian’s insinuation rippled through the room.

“Again?” Rhys kept that bored tone, something else behind it now though.

“I was working,” She said, clipped and stern. Not wanting the conversation to continue. But Rhysand pushed forward,

“I didn’t send you anywhere.”

“And since when am I not allowed to do things of my own volition?”

Azriel let out what could only be described as a snort. When she whipped her head towards him there was no humor in his eyes. The small laugh disapproving more than anything else.

“What?”

She was getting defensive now that the shadowsinger deigned to be involved in this discussion. He shook his head at her,

“What exactly were you working on?” His question came out cold and quiet. His shadows creeped towards her as if they could pry the information from her. Cassian laughed. A real laugh.

“She was working Lucien Vanserra.”

She cast an annoyed glare at his crude statement.

“I’m sorry when did my personal affairs become the business of this court?”

Amren’s voice floated from the dining room now, “More like the entertainment of this family.”

She rolled her eyes and looked at the males in front of her. Challenging.

“It’s unprofessional is it not?” Azriel pointed the question more towards Rhysand than to her. “Emotional entanglements.”

“And who are you to say it’s an emotional entanglement? Maybe it’s just someone to get tangled in.”

He winced at the sharpness of her words. The innuendo behind them. She tried not to note how it bothered him, how deeply it seemed to bother him. He shook it off fast though.

“Because I know you.”

Rhysand strained his neck, trying to make eye contact with Mor, trying to get her to come interrupt this conversation. She would not look at him, choosing this time to not get involved.

His friend and his sister glared at each other still. Azriel using his face of stone cold disinterest as a weapon against her. Waiting for her to push at some unspoken boundary. She broke the silence first. Her tone withering.

“Since when do you care who I fuck?”

Rhysand grimaced. Not particularly caring to hear about this aspect of his sisters life. Not particularly happy with whom she chose to share this aspect of her life with. His disdain for Lucien was made evident to her since this whole affair started many years ago. As unsavory as this conversation was he couldn’t stop himself from looking at Azriel, waiting for his friend’s response, waiting to see how far the spymaster was willing to push his sister.

“I don’t”

Azriel’s answer was quiet and laced with some sort of simmering contempt. He leaned back in his chair, signalling and end to his involvement in this semi pointless discussion. His response washed over her exactly the way he had intended. A wave of cold. Triggering a pounding dissapointment in her. She hadn’t really realized how she had leaned closer to him while they sparred. The embarrassment of it hit her as she let herself fall back into Cassian, let his arm snake its way around her shoulders again. She didn’t look back at Azriel as she said,

“Good. Cassian is next.”

The warrior beside her pumped his fist in mock victory and exclaimed with teasing tone, “FINALLY”

Before putting his fist down at the first glower from his shadowy brother. Cass shot him a smirk before leaning down to her to very audibly whisper,

“I’m free anytime little star. Just give me a shout.”

She pushed her elbow into his ribcage and Cassian laughed through the cough the blow sent through him. Rhys studied Azriel’s features. Noting the jealousy etched across them.

“Enough.”

The one word from Rhysand was enough to quiet his friends.

#azriel x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #azriel shadowsinger #lucien vanserra #acotar #rhysand #morrigan acotar #amren acotar #shadowsinger x reader #night court #bat boys #cassian acotar

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