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rememberwren · 4 months ago

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A Complete Set (Whatever That Means) || 2

A continuation of Skin Deep. Part one of this sequel is here.

About this: previous warnings apply, oral sex (f receiving), alcohol, gross imperfections, not a single nipple unfortunately, an eyebrow though. For @/moody-alcoholic, I hope this manages to quench even the tiniest portion of your thirst. 1 more part left. 7k

“Simon?”

“Hm.”

“Are you seeing anybody else?”

Simon looks up at you. His hair is getting long, falling over his forehead and looking nearly brunet in the dim lighting. You don’t think he’s cut it since the two of you have started dating.

He’s been drawing for half the night, hunched over with the sketchpad in his lap, doing terrible things to his own posture and blocking his own lighting all at once. When he answers you, it’s in that dry tone that lets you know he thinks you’ve said something funny or clever: “No.”

A knot in your chest loosens. It’s hard to believe you worried over such a question for so long just to receive such a simple, earnest answer. He goes back to sketching.

You content yourself with this and stretch your legs out until your toes touch his thigh at the other end of the sofa. His mouth twitches, but he keeps working.

Six months pass, and how do you celebrate? You climb topless onto Simon’s lap, eager and anxious in equal measure. Your nipple piercing had stopped hurting months ago (save for the time you had snagged it on a cable knit sweater and nearly seen Jesus), but you had read online that piercings heal from the outside inward, and as such you had made every attempt possible to leave the thing alone even when all you wanted to do was play with it.

In his own way of celebrating, Simon had bought you your first new barbell: a black one with black gemmed studs at each end. You couldn’t help but notice that it looked similar to his, only with a more delicate, feminine touch.

“Will you change it for me?” you ask him. Your hands are shaking.

“Alright. Let me wash my hands.” He shifts you off of his lap and disappears into the bathroom where you hear the faucet turn on. You cross your arms over your breasts, feeling silly being half naked without Simon in the room. Your foot bounces impatiently, but you know that if cleanliness were a love language, it would likely be Simon’s.

Not that he had told you he loved you—nor had you told him. You had promised yourself that you would wait until he said it first (the only sure-fire way to avoid coming across as overeager and scaring him off). Still, there were a thousand ways in a day that Simon made you feel as if he loved you: the way he would go out to start your car in the wintery mornings when your remote start stopped working; the way he always offered you the first bite of his food if you weren’t sharing a meal; the way he’d crack open your drinks before handing them to you. Was it wrong of you to try to read between the lines?

Simon comes back and tugs you onto his lap again. His hands look huge compared to the jewelry through your breast as he dexterously works the ball free from the barbell. He has the hands of a surgeon: steady and calm. You close your eyes in anticipation of pain, but there is none; it just feels alien, sensitive whenever his calloused fingers brush over your pebbled nipple, even as he removes the barbell itself.

Taking the sanitized jewelry, he carefully puts it in and screws the stud in place.

“That didn’t hurt at all,” you say, reaching down to tug softly on the barbell. Still, no pain.

“Great,” he says, eyes on your breasts. He grips your hips. “Up, now. C’mon, up.”

He tugs you up onto your knees so that you’re the perfect height for him to take your nipple into his burning mouth. You shiver, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other burying itself in his hair, gripping softly to keep his mouth in place. If you had worried that getting the piercing would make you less sensitive, you were wrong. He tugs on the jewelry gently with his fucking teeth and God, holy shit, fucking hell, definitely not less sensitive.

“Been waiting to do this,” he says, nuzzling the skin between your breasts as he gives you a moment to catch your breath. “Six months of hell.”

“Yeah?” You pant lamely, chest heaving.

He hums. His thumbs stroke beneath your breasts along the sternum tattoo he gave you—a favorite part of you for him to touch—as his lips find your nipple again, lashing softly with his tongue. His hands have begun to tremble where they slide down the curves of your sides and to your hips, touch soft and worshipful as he brings you down to rest your weight against the hard line of his cock still confined in his jeans. The shaking says more than a thousand of his words ever could.

“I want you,” he mutters. “Say yes.”

“Yes, God, yes.”

Simon guides you off of his lap, kneeling down into the space between the couch and the coffee table. He pushes the table backwards with a little more force than is necessary when there isn’t enough room for his long legs and accidentally sends a cup full of charcoal pencils tipping over onto the carpet. You snort with laughter. He peels your leggings and panties off and drags you to the edge of the couch, pressing your thighs open wide.

Getting head from partners in the past had been a fraught, mostly unenjoyable experience. Even your first few times with Simon had been tense, with him quickly moving on to something else after noticing your inability to relax. A less eager man might have counted his blessings and moved on, but Simon’s gentle persistence had gone a long way toward reassuring you that he truly wanted to please you this way. It had gone a long way toward reassuring you that you could let him.

He spreads you apart, thumbs slipping against your slick folds, heated gaze pinpointed on your most intimate parts before he leans in and licks a broad stripe over your entrance and up to your clit. You shut your eyes (and cover your face for good measure). His warm breath fans against your pussy as he laughs. He could be mean and pull your hands away, but he lets you hide this way and you are grateful for it.

Simon takes his time mapping each part of you with his mouth, nose brushing your clit whenever he doesn’t have his lips sealed over it. Your thighs shake, toes curled, as he pulls whines and choked gasps from your throat.

You peek through your fingers when you feel him shifting beneath you to find that he’s worked his cock from his jeans and is jerking off, only noticeable by the tell-tale rhythmic motion of his arm against your calf.

“Jesus, Simon,” you whine.

He makes a little sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, shifting on his knees to change the angle of his mouth against you. Something about him so unashamedly enjoying himself makes it easier for you to enjoy yourself too, to let your hands come away from your face and thread them through his hair.

“Can we fuck?” you breathe, aching inside deep where his tongue can’t reach.

He nods against you and kneels up to kiss you. You still aren’t used to the taste of yourself in his mouth, but it’s growing less foreign—and nothing could ever make you turn away from one of Simon’s kisses.

He pulls you off the couch onto your knees, his legs spread to either side of your own. You arch your back, feeling his cock brush against the back of your thighs. Two of his thick fingers slip inside you, testing your give and your wetness. He twists them; turns to hook them against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you that makes your legs shake. Simon works a third finger into you, a stretch that your body struggled to take before but which it accepts eagerly now, the sting welcome and familiar.

“Fuck. I need a condom,” he rasps.

“Just pull out,” you say.

You can sense him rolling his eyes. Your fondness for the (dangerous) pull-out method had been formally noted by him and thus far rejected at every turn.

“Don’t insult me,” he mutters. He grabs your hand and guides it between your own legs. “Be good and keep yourself warm. I’ll be right back.”

He’s barely gone long enough for you to stroke your fingers through your folds, but when he returns (flashing the intact condom package at you like he always does), he watches you for an endless, lingering moment.

“I like that,” he says at last, taking his spot behind you again, condom in place.

“Like what?”

“Watching you touch yourself.” The head of his cock nudges your entrance. He finds the right angle and slips inside you, stretching your walls to make room for himself. You groan, your fingers digging into the couch cushion. It stings a little, right towards the end, but he just softly saws himself in and out of your pussy, soothing the ache with pleasure. His words go completely over your head.

He reaches so deep inside you, like with his every thrust his cock bullies the air out of your lungs. The slick sounds are lewd, keeping time with your moans and sighs as his fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, manhandling you further onto the couch to the perfect height for him to fuck into you, your knees barely skimming the carpet.

Your hand ends up crushed between your pelvis and the couch. You let your fingers find your clit and the touch reminds your body of how close it is, that coil deep in your belly stretched tight and ready to release. Your fingers trail down to where his cock pistons in and out of you, and at your touch he groans, slows to a smooth drag, his length slippery with your own arousal.

“Touch yourself, not me,” he chides, his voice rough. “I’m close enough.”

“I’m close enough,” you say.

He flops against your back, nearly crushing you with his weight to hook his chin over your shoulder and ask: “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

You can barely draw in the breath to laugh, and it’s only worse when you cum. You bury your face into the couch cushions, giggling, fingers rubbing a gentle, hectic rhythm against your clit as your pussy spasms around him. He snorts at your laughter, a soft quiet exhale against the back of your neck. Then he cums, his thrusts sloppy and hard, turning his head at the last moment to bite your shoulder lazily.

“Sex makes you so weird,” you pant. Your face hurts from smiling.

“You like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

He ties off the condom and throws it away. The two of you sit naked on the couch together, curled up. It’s a little alien to be this open about your body with someone and to have them be so open about their body in return, but it’s a good strangeness. So much about loving Simon is.

“I need to get the other one pierced now,” you mention, toying with his unpierced nipple. “Have to complete the set.”

“I never did.”

“You’re incomplete. Don’t you know?”

He snorts. “I feel quite fulfilled, thanks.”

“Please Simon?” you ask. “I want to.”

“Don’t ever say please. I’ll text Soap in the morning,” Simon says, trailing his fingers up and down the length of your arm, making goosebumps appear.

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you’d been thinking about for the last several months? Would it offend him to know that you didn’t want to go to Johnny for any more piercings?

Whether it offended him or not, your pride couldn’t rest easily going back to the tiny room behind the curtain in Skin Deep. While there had been only a few other tense interactions between you and Johnny since Simon’s birthday (and usually he seemed to favor outright ignoring your existence), the situation had not improved.

“Simon—I think I’d rather go somewhere else for my other nipple. To someone other than Johnny, I mean.”

Simon frowns. “What’d Johnny do.”

He phrases it like that—more of a statement and less of a question, immediately assuming that Johnny is at fault.

“It’s just—it’s like I said on your birthday. He doesn’t like me much.”

Simon turns to look you in the eye. When your gaze tries to skirt away, he lets out an irritated breath through his nose—but doesn’t fight you. Simon always lets you run. Maybe because he knows his legs are long enough to catch you. “You really feel like that?”

“You’ve never noticed?”

“Thought it was in my head,” he mutters. Then he says the most dreaded words he possibly could: “I’ll talk to him.”

“No!” you nearly shout. You struggle to lower your voice to something more appropriate for indoors, your heart tap-dancing to an anxious beat inside your chest. Just trying to picture Johnny’s irritated expression at any of Simon’s potential efforts to talk to him made your stomach turn over. “I mean—don’t. Really. It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I need you two to get along. You and Johnny—you’re the most important people in my life,” he says baldly. His honesty does something to your lungs—empties them, crushes them. You only just realize the position that you’re putting Simon in, and it makes you feel about two inches tall. How could you let your petty problems with Johnny potentially get in the way of their longtime friendship? Their brotherhood?

“I’m begging you, Simon,” you plead. “Promise me you won’t talk to him. Just, give me more time to get to know him or something.”

“Can't promise that.” He stands up and stretches, joints popping as you stare at him, your stomach tearing itself to pieces at this knowledge. This is not how this conversation was meant to end. But he disappears into the bedroom before you can gather your wits enough to say another word.

There is nothing like sleeping beside Simon, his arm beneath your head, your body turned and cradled against his side, a leg thrown over his thighs. His heart is as slow and steady as his breaths, his calloused thumb tracing a line back and forth on your naked side, a line which grows slower and slower as he drifts closer to sleep.

You ruin it like this: “Simon?”

“Hm.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“If you got’a.”

“On your birthday, you said that women meant for you sometimes ended up being Johnny’s. What did you mean?”

He’s quiet for so long that you mistake him for falling asleep. You’ve resigned yourself to asking him another night when he speaks, his speech is slow and thoughtful, like it is hard to put it into words.

“When Soap and I are in a room together with women, I’m like a ghost. He’s a fucking human being. Flesh and blood. Alive. People want to talk to him, to know him, to laugh with him, to have a drink with him. I’m not like that. I haven’t ever been like that. More than once Johnny would try to get me together with a woman who would end up falling for him instead. Eventually I convinced him to stop trying.”

“Were you jealous?”

He makes an ambiguous sound. “It’s hard to be jealous of Soap.”

“Not impossible, though.”

He rolls you over onto your back, coming to rest over you, your legs a tangled mess beneath the sheets. The darkness lengthens the shadows of his eyes, but you can still feel his gaze, tangible as any touch. He braces himself on his elbows over you and lets his forehead rest against your own. “I just wanted someone who was mine,” he says.

It’s on the tip of your tongue, those words that are building inside of you and growing harder to withhold by the day. But you say it like this and hope he can translate: “I’m yours.”

He ducks his head and kisses you.

In the morning, Simon has slipped a piece of paper just beneath the edge of your mug of tea. When you look at it, written in charcoal pencil is DARCELINA: Dream City Tattoos and Piercings XXX-XXXX.

It’s one for the record books: the rain. Thick pregnant clouds carry more than eight inches of rain to your city in the course of a day. The last time it rained so much was apparently during the Civil War era. The city floods, including the basement of your apartment building, which leads to a building-wide power outage.

Simon has you pack a suitcase, junk the majority of your refrigerator and freezer, and come stay with him. You’re giddy, feeling like it’s a semi-permanent sleepover when he gets the call that Skin Deep has flooded as well.

Then things take a turn for the worse. Simon is gone for nearly 36 hours straight making endless calls to attempt to clear the water and begin repairs, and sometime in the midst of that, the fight with Johnny happens.

It’s an ugly one.

Simon comes home in the foulest mood you’ve ever seen him in. It turns him positively stony as he moves around the apartment making himself a hasty meal, avoiding your eyes every chance he gets. After he eats, he sits heavily on the sofa, pulls out his sketchpad, and trashes no fewer than six entire pages before you get the nerve to ask him what’s wrong.

“Soap,” he mutters, crumpling a paper in one strong, dextrous hand. He throws it toward the small garbage can beside the telly and misses. “He’s looking for other locations to pierce at.”

“Is the building that bad?” you ask. “You guys will have to find a new place?”

“Soap is looking for a new place. One without me.”

You gape, the shock of this news reaching all the way to the core of your being.

“You don’t think it’s because of—?” Me. You can’t even finish the sentence, the thought upsets you so much. You tuck your legs beneath you on the couch, curling up, seeking to become small and harmless as grief and horror wash over you in wave after wave.

“This is my fault. I tried to talk to him but he’s so fucking—he gets under my goddamn skin like he was born to do it.” Simon pauses heavily, before adding: “I need to tell you something about the night Soap pierced me.”

Story time. Alright. You uncurl your legs, choosing to sit with them criss-crossed, your body turned toward him, giving Simon your entire attention. It’s been months since you found out that Johnny had been the one to pierce Simon, but you had been no closer to getting the story from either of them. Your curiosity was a dangerous, corrosive thing, eating away at your insides.

“I’m listening,” you say, hoping you don’t look as eager as you feel.

Simon looks to be at a loss for words, running his tongue along the sharp edge of his teeth. When he speaks, it’s hardly the lengthy story you had been anticipating: “We fucked.”

You blink. “You and—Johnny?”

Simon sighs and shrugs a shoulder.

“I didn’t know you were…” Simon stares, waiting for you to finish your sentence. “…interested in men.”

“You are. Why can’t I be?”

You feel a chilly pang of horror, like someone has slipped a dagger between your ribs. You rush to assure him: “You can! You—“

Simon’s mouth twitches as he rubs at the crease of one eye, and your panic fades. He mumbles: “I’m just fucking with you.”

“So you’re bisexual.”

“I’m… I don’t fucking know. I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to. I never named it.”

“Okay,” you say gently. “We don’t have to. But what does that have to do with now?”

“The day after we—y’know. Fucked. I told him it was a one time thing. Maybe it’s in my head,” says Simon, frowning. “Maybe I’m crazy. But sometimes he looks at me or says something to me and it makes me think it’s not over. Not for him.”

“Is it really over,” you ask, “for you?”

Simon looks at you, quiet. He says: “I want you.”

And you are so relieved by the obvious honesty in his answer that it never crosses your mind to think that’s not what you asked.

Simon is uptown at a café holding consultations while Johnny directs cleanup efforts at the shop, and you think that now’s the perfect chance.

Your hands shake against the steering wheel the whole drive there, nerves less like butterflies and more like great winged moths in your belly. A part of you says that this is a mistake, you should turn back and let Simon and Johnny work it out on their own. But another part of you feels personally responsible—even if Simon says you aren’t. All your life you have taken things too personally, shouldered burdens which were not your own, bent over backwards to solve problems that weren’t yours to solve. If there was any chance that you could resolve this, you would put your pride on the line to do it.

You park alongside the street and are thrilled to find the front door unlocked. The entire place smells musty, like a basement. The wooden floors have warped a little under your tentative steps, announcing your presence sooner than you’d like.

Johnny sits in the chair where Simon tattoos clients. Sunlight streams in through the blinds and lights him up like some kind of punk-rock angel, his mohawk freshly clipped, dark finger nail polish chipping. Sometime between now and the last time you’ve seen him, he’s pierced his eyebrow: a black barbell with studs that reminds you a little too much of the one through your nipple (and Simon’s. Was that intentional? Did Johnny pick jewelry to match Simon’s? To match yours? For some reason just the thought makes your nipples tighten). In his hands is one of Simon’s sketchpads, and he’s flipping through it leisurely.

He glances up toward the sound of your footsteps.

“If you’re here about the water—“ his words die out on his pierced tongue as he stares at you, gobsmacked by your appearance.

“Hey,” you say lamely.

“Where’s Simon?” he asks, eyes flickering toward the protective spot where Simon usually hovers just over your shoulder. “He said he wouldn’t be in today.”

“He’s not. It’s just me. I thought maybe we could talk.”

Johnny openly grimaces. He shuts Simon’s sketchpad and sets it down (hopefully where he found it). Standing from the chair, he takes a few casual steps away from you, clearly heading towards the curtain that leads to the back of the shop. “Really cannot think of anything we have to talk about.”

You square your shoulders, fighting down that instinctive urge to make yourself smaller, to give in and be manageable. “I think we do.”

“You should go.”

“Not until we work this out.”

“There isn’t any this, alright, just—does Simon even know you’re here?” Something guilty must splash across your face because Johnny gives a mirthless laugh, reaching up to palm at his eyes. “Tha’s great. Just great. Could you be more incriminating?”

“Incriminating—? Look, Simon told me about the night you pierced him.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Johnny says flippantly.

“About how you two slept together.”

Now that stops Johnny in his tracks. It’s clear that he didn’t expect Simon to really tell you about that night all those years ago. He looks at you with a fresh caution, waiting to see how exactly you’ve taken this news—what you plan to do with it. “Aye, then. I guess he did.”

“I’m not trying to take him away from you.”

Johnny makes a derisive sound. His words are well-rehearsed, like he has said them to himself a hundred-hundred times: “Cannot take what isn’t mine.”

“He was your friend first,” you say, aiming for conciliatory and gentle the same way you might approach a feral animal. Johnny stares at you with flat, suspicious eyes. They’re so fucking blue—so different from Simon’s own dark ochre ones. “He told me that you’re one of the most important people in his life.”

Johnny’s face softens. He says: “You shouldn’t tell me that. He wouldn’t.”

“He’s not always good with words. Please don’t leave the shop, Johnny. I think it would break Simon’s heart.”

“I didn’t know he had a heart to break,” Johnny mutters. He leans against the wall beside the curtain and sighs, lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll think about it. Now out. You shouldn’t be breathin’ in this air.”

Johnny ushers you to the door, hand hovering just above your back, careful not to touch you. Once you’re out on the street, he shuts the door and locks it audibly. Then he leans in and huffs a heated breath beneath the “NO WALK INS” sign. In the fog, he adds: “No GFs!”

You flip him off.

He flips you off.

On the way back to your car, you find yourself smiling. You force yourself to scowl. It’s a more appropriate expression. Giving one last glance back toward Skin Deep, you find him still standing there, watching.

Likely just to make sure you’re really leaving.

Not long after you are moved back into your apartment, you find that Simon stops sleeping.

You’re ashamed to say that it takes you a while to notice; nothing changes on your end of things. Anytime you are sleeping over, he lays down with you, tugs you up against his chest, and holds you for ages, his body still and breathing even. But one night you wake to a cool, empty bed. And later in the week, it happens again. Until more often than not you realize that any moment when you expect Simon to be sleeping, he isn’t.

Usually you find him sketching, shadows like charcoal smudged beneath his eyes. He doesn’t meet your gaze and tells you to go back to bed, that he’ll be there soon. Sometimes he even does come to lay back down beside you—but only long enough for you to convince him that you have fallen asleep again. Then he is shifting away from you, disappearing into the other room, shutting the bedroom with the quietest click behind him.

You know that he’s busy. His schedule has been booked—and with deposits nonrefundable, people more often than not kept their appointments. He’s been working with a client on mock ups for a sleeve, and the various pieces and the way they all come together around the contours of the person’s body are very delicate. Johnny’s threat to find a new job doesn’t help, either. Have they talked and resolved things yet? Simon never says so.

You can’t imagine the stress that he is under, and you’d do anything to be able to shoulder a fraction of it for him.

That’s how you end up with drunk Johnny in your car.

It starts with Simon falling asleep before you—for once. You can tell he is well and truly asleep by the sheer weight of his arm over you, the soft snores that he gives out against the nape of your neck. After so many nights of sleeplessness, his body has finally given in. You’re about to slip off to sleep yourself when the buzzing of a phone startles you back into wakefulness.

Not your phone—Simon’s phone. And it goes off again. And again. And again. Who the hell could be sending so many messages at midnight?

You know you should leave it alone—if it was urgent, they would likely call—but curiosity gets the better of you. Carefully you slip out from under Simon’s arm. It’s a testament to his sheer exhaustion that he doesn’t wake as you jostle him. In sleep, he looks painfully young and relaxed, and it makes you long to reach out and brush back his hair that has fallen onto his forehead. But not at the risk of waking him.

Sure that all you are planning to do is shut Simon’s phone off so that he can get some restful sleep, you are surprised to see that Simon has his text notifications visible on the homescreen, so all it takes is a simple tap to open them up.

Johnny. All Johnny.

Ghost.

Ghost

Are you uo?

Up* fuck my fingers

I need a ride home

Simon

I’m at that bar on… The text is cut off. To see more, you would have to open his phone. So Johnny is stuck at some bar, drunk more than likely. Well good riddance, you think to yourself, the hurtful way he treated you still very much fresh in your brain. But then you remember your talk at Skin Deep, and your traitorous heart softens. Could you really just put the phone back now and pretend you hadn’t seen the messages?

Simon doesn’t even have a password; that’s how much he trusts you. Would he still trust you after this, if he knew that you had gone through his phone, even if it was for a good cause?

Making a spur of the moment decision, you could only hope so. Your conscience wouldn’t let you wake Simon, and as much as you disliked him, it couldn’t let you leave Johnny stranded at some bar either.

You open his phone as quickly as you can, swiping so that it goes straight to Johnny’s texts and nowhere else. The name of the bar is right there, and you scramble for your own phone to type it down in Google Maps. He’s not far. Probably would be within walking distance, if he weren’t drunk. You could be there and back before Simon ever knew you were gone—you hoped.

As Simon, you send back to Johnny a simple OMW.

There is no hint of spring in the frigid March air as you slip outside into your car. The parking lot is dim and quiet, and traffic is minimal as you follow the GPS on your phone to Johnny’s location. The pub nightlife spills out onto the pavement and you struggle to find a place to park, grimacing at the knowledge that you will have to get out of the car and go inside to find Johnny, considering you see him nowhere on the street. Leaving the warmth of your car is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, especially in just a thin tank-top and a pair of leggings. Gathering your coat more tightly around yourself, you rush out of the car and through the people on the sidewalk and into the warmth of the pub.

You keep your eyes peeled for Johnny, but can’t spot his silly haircut anywhere. What if he’s gotten a ride home from someone else? What if he’s decided to walk, or found someone to go home with? You shift up onto your toes, looking over everyone in the bar when you spot him in the corner at a table with a few other men.

Johnny doesn’t even recognize you at first—either a testament to how unexpected your sudden appearance is or how drunk he is based on how difficult it is for his eyes to focus on you. When he realizes who you are, his mouth drops. He points.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, accent so thick and slurred that you can barely understand him.

“Picking you up. You said you needed a ride.”

“Aye but not from—oh, Jesus make me still. Yer not wearing a bra, are you?”

All the men at the table turn to gape. You snatch the sides of your jacket closed where they had loosely fallen open, your face flushing with warmth. The table roars with laughter, but Johnny in his drunkenness doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment.

“That was mine!” Johnny shouts, elbowing the man next to him. “Did you see that? That was my work!”

“We get it, bruv,” the guy says with a roll of his eyes. “She’s no ten.”

“What’d you fuckin’ say?”

The table laughs.

Johnny grabs a fistful of the guy’s shirt and drags him nearly clean out of his seat. “I said, What’d you fucking say about her?”

The table stops laughing. Johnny cuts an impressive figure even when drunk; he’s easily the largest guy of the group. Your stomach drops and lands somewhere between your shoes. This is not going to plan at all. Reaching out, you try to insert yourself physically between the two of them but can only wrap your fingers around Johnny’s wrist, feeling the strength poised in the tendons.

“Johnny,” you say, loudly to be heard over the sounds of the pub. “Come on. Let’s go, yeah? Simon…Simon’s out in the car.”

“Simon?” Johnny let’s go of the guy’s shirt, his bad mood evaporating as quickly as it had manifested. He nudges his way out from behind the table, all politeness. Once free, he stumbles into a woman in a slinky dress who gives him a look that could melt glass.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize to her, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s waist and doing your best to keep him steady. “He’s an idiot, and he’s drunk. You look amazing by the way—“

“Control your boyfriend,” she snaps.

“I will,” you promise, guiding Johnny away from her and into the crowd.

His nose brushes the shell of your ear, breath fanning across your neck as he says with a laugh in his voice: “I’m not yer boyfriend.”

You flush. “Thanks for letting me know, Johnny. I had no clue.”

He says something back, some Scottish phrase, his accent so thick you couldn’t understand the words even if you knew them.

“English, please,” you mutter.

“Je-sus,” he groans, dragging the words out into multiple syllables. He takes your chin in his hand and squeezes your cheeks a little. “You’re just like him. ‘English, MacTavish’. Ha!”

You bat his hand away.

“He’s been rubbing off on you,” Johnny mutters, laughing a little. Beneath his breath (though far more loudly than he likely intends), he adds: “In more ways than one, I imagine.”

Your face goes hot. “Johnny, stop talking.”

The two of you exit the pub out into the cool night air. It seems to sober Johnny some, as he takes in deep, gulping breaths. He walks a little steadier as the two of you cross the street, and by the time you’ve made it to your car, he has shrugged you off altogether (even if he is still a little unstable on his feet). He stands outside the car for a moment before opening one of the rear doors.

“What are you doing?”

“Rather sit back here.”

“I’m not your cabbie.”

“Strange manner of dress if you were,” he says snidely, slipping into the backseat.

In the driver’s seat, you let yourself have a small breakdown. You grip the wheel tightly, taking a few deep breaths of your own, searching for inner peace. You thought that you and Johnny had a tentative truce after that day at Skin Deep, but clearly he is still holding some grudge. Your search for peace turns up empty.

“Sorry I lied about Simon being here. I just really needed you to leave the pub,” you explain politely.

“Knew you were lying,” Johnny says from the darkness of the backseat. He sounds remarkably like Simon: brooding and irritable. “He’s got no idea you’re here, does he? He’d never let you come alone.”

You frown. “No. He doesn’t. He’s sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him.”

“Nightmares?”

“Huh?”

Johnny leans forward. You glance at him in the rear view mirror. “I said, Has he been having more nightmares?”

You didn’t know anything about Simon having nightmares. That sour feeling in your belly was back, the one that made you feel like you would never truly know Simon, not the way his friends did.

“No,” you say, a little defensive. “He’s been working on this sleeve for a client. Staying up way too late to finish it on time.”

“Aye. Nightmares. Anything else is just an excuse he’s telling himself—and you.”

Done with the conversation, you turn the key in the ignition and pull out into the street. “What’s your address?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Why’s that?”

“Left my keys at the bar.”

“Goddamnit.”

You turn towards Simon’s apartment. “Then you’re staying with us—with Simon. You can sleep on his couch and get your keys in the morning; I’m sure he won’t care.”

“Are you staying there?”

“Yes.”

Johnny mutters something under his breath. You consider yourself lucky not to have heard it. For a while, the two of you drive in silence. Then Johnny says:

“You never came for your second nipple.”

“It’s only just been six months.”

“So you’re due for an appointment then, aren’t you?”

You steel yourself, gripping the wheel tightly at ten-and-two. “Actually, I’m going to someone else.”

Johnny’s seatbelt unclicks. He hovers at your shoulder bringing with him burning warmth and the scent of whisky. When he talks, his breath brushes your neck, fury tangible in every syllable. “Who is it? Who the hell is he taking you to? Darcelina? Astrid? Dusty? Whoever it is, consider the appointment canceled. No one is piercing you but me.”

“You don’t get that privilege,” you grit out between your teeth. “Not anymore, not after the way you’ve treated me!”

“Oh, did I offend you?” he breathes, clutching one hand at his breast. “Not falling down at your feet? Not worshippin’ the ground you walk on?”

“Fuck you, Soap! I wanted to be friends.” Your voice cracks embarrassingly. Suddenly the road goes blurry. You blink rapidly, forcing yourself to calm down—you’re driving for fuck’s sake. You swallow past the lump in your throat, the silence interrupted by rustling as Johnny leans forward again in the backseat, trying to get a look at your face in the passing streetlights.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans. “Are you crying?”

“No!”

“You are. Fuckin’—pull over, before you get us killed.”

Keen embarrassment only has your eyes watering more, until you have no choice but to do as he asks, pulling over to hastily parallel park and throw on your hazard lights. You let your elbows rest against the steering wheel, face in your hands. His words echo in your head, said in that stupid Scottish brogue: not falling down at your feet? Not worshippin’ the ground you walk on? Are those really the things he thought you wanted? Is that the sort of impression you gave to Johnny, to Ghost’s other friends?

The backseat door opens and Johnny climbs out. A small part of you hopes that he will walk himself home—and good riddance. But he horrifies you by walking all the way around to the driver’s side of the car and tugging on the door handle until you begrudgingly unlock the doors.

“C’mon,” he says, trying to pull you out of the car with your seatbelt still on.

“What’re you—?”

“Just—wouldya—so stubborn—“ he drunkenly leans over you and mashes his fingers against the button of your seatbelt until it releases. For that brief moment, he is a warm weight across your lap, bringing with him the scent of cologne and whisky. Then he pulls you out of the car—and into his arms. It’s a tight, full hug, chest-to-chest, not bone crushing per se, but all-encompassing.

You don’t realize how badly you need it from him until you’re getting it.

“You’re such a dick,” you groan against his shoulder, sniffling.

“Aye,” he says, swaying a little on his feet, like the two of you are dancing. “But I’m right. We cannot be friends. So you’ve got to let this go, alright? Just breathe out 'n let it go.”

“I don’t understand,” you mutter. “He wants us to be friends.”

“He doesn’t know what he wants,'' Johnny says, one hand rubbing gently at your shoulder blades. “No more crying. It’s out of your hands. Aye?”

You shake your head, hands gripping his shirt.

But your tears slow and eventually stop. Cars pass occasionally. One of them honks at the sight of you both entwined on the side of the road, rolls down their window to let their passenger yell something suggestive, and it makes your face go hot. Johnny pulls away, nearly stumbling out into the road to give the car both middle fingers as it peels away. He slips on the damp asphalt and goes down hard on his side, taking the skin off his elbow and palm.

“Fuck, I’m hammered,” he laughs.

“Clearly,” you say, struggling to help him up and into the backseat.

Once in the driver’s seat again, you feel exhausted, emptied, like a washcloth wrung out and left to dry. The drive back to the apartment is silent, and when you’re in the parking lot, neither of you make a move to get out of the car.

You warn Johnny: “Simon’s asleep, so be quiet inside.”

Johnny warns you sleepily: “Ghost is right there.”

There’s a tap on the glass of your window. It nearly makes you shriek—but it is only Simon, half-smoked cigarette in his fingers, bundled up outside the car door. You roll down the window sheepishly.

“Need a little help?” he asks, taking a drag and turning his head so the smoke doesn’t touch you. His eyes are on Johnny in the backseat.

You hold up your fingers with just a smidge of space between them.

#ghoap x reader #skin deep

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councilofcastamere · 6 months ago

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ADORNMENTS | AEMOND TARGARYEN X DAERON’S TWIN!READER

a b r i d g e m e n t : your older brother Aemond loves to shower you with gifts. one day, you’ll pay him back.

TW: smut, targcest, oral (f receiving) penetration, riding, missionary, childhood love,

A/N: reblogs but most of all comments are immensely appreciated!

Aemond couldn’t remember the day when you drew your first breath alongside your twin brother, Daeron. All he knows is that the Gods had shined light upon him that day.

He had gotten blessed with the only one that could have ever drawn his attention like it did.

Like you did.

4-year-old Aemond witnessed the sunlight shining upon your face as Queen Alicent flaunted you in her arms, Daeron held in the King’s arms.

Your laughs could only be translated into melodies as they entered the prince’s ears. Your skin was almost porcelain and your eyes were peacefully closed. You were wrapped around the purple blanket as if you were a present.

His thoughts felt overpowered by a desire to hold you. He climbed up next to his Queen Mother and tugged on your blanket, signalling to hold the new blessing that came into his life.

“Aemond wishes to hold his new sister,” Alicent remarked, smiling as she looked down upon him. She very carefully positioned you into his small arms, staying close as to keep an eye.

“A family man, he will be.” the king laughed, very carefully swinging Daeron in his arms.

Aemond, ignoring the speaking of his parents, wrapped his small arms around your small body, regarding you as if you were a gem to keep in his palm. He held you closer to his chest, and brought his lips to your forehead, before hesitantly returning you to your mother.

And as you turned older, you grew only closer to him. It was as if he were your shadow, and you were his. You would do everything together.

He was infatuated with you, always opting to bring you your favourite pieces of jewelry, your favourite silk dresses and your favourite flowers.

Eventually, you shared your first kiss with him.

It was the hour of the owl, and you were holding a candle to your chest, waiting for the prince to sneak into your chambers. Your hair was tied up into braids, which made for a beautiful updo.

“Sister.” you heard a voice. it was Aemond’s.

But it didn’t sound all too delighted.

“Aemond?” you ask softly, observing him sitting on the edge of your bed. “What happened?”

He didn’t wish to tell you, but your angelic voice compelled him as if he was answering the gods.

“…they gave me a pig.” he murmured, passionately angry. his fists clenched at his side and he didn’t dare look you in the eye.

You knew what he meant. You always pitied having him watch you ride starfyre. You only prayed he could get one of his own.

You crawled over to him, his back facing you. You delicately rested your chin on his shoulder, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“If a dragon doesn’t like you, I don’t like a dragon,” you murmured, whispering into his ear. “You over any dragon, big brother.”

Just then, his head turned to you. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. You felt your throat go dry, and you liked the feeling. You liked having him look at you like that.

You closed your eyes, and the second you did, you felt his slightly chapped lips on yours. You savoured the feelings for a couple of seconds, before attempting to brush your hair out of your face. His hand eventually came up to your rosy cheeks, cupping at your jaw, while your hands settled themselves on top of his unoccupied hand.

You very gently pulled away, smiling at his lips.

From that day on, it was sealed.

He was infatuated with you, always opting to bring you your favourite jewelries, your favourite silk dresses and your favourite flowers.

You loved it, and as you blossomed into a woman of age, you remained appreciative of his efforts.

But you wanted more. You wondered if he loved you so much, why hasn’t he bedded you yet? It made you insecure. What if the kisses mean nothing, and he only sees you as a sister, not good enough to bed?

You didn’t wish to come to conclusions, or accuse him of anything, but you only prayed you were able to ask him without feeling humiliated.

After all, what if he felt pressured after you asked him, and it won’t be as good?

You wrote all of your concerns down on a small paper, your quill clumsily spilling over some of the characters. You carefully folded it into a heart and left it under your pillow.

Which was a mistake.

Imagine Aemond’s shock when he came into your chambers to place your newest present under your pillow, only to find the paper.

Imagine his guilt as he reads how his little dragon has been feeling neglected.

And imagine his lust at your words, having everything you wished he’d do to you written down on the little paper.

You were inexperienced and some of the things made no sense, sure, but he got the idea of what you wished for.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. Wait for a better time. He carefully stuffed the paper back under your pillow, and the present back in his hand.

With a swift turn, he departed your chambers, his golden locks cascading behind him. He’d have to make you see his love, sooner or later.

And that evening, you did not notice anything amiss when you strolled inside, your handmaidens at your side.

You opted for a pretty green dress, your hair beautifully done into a loose braid. You wore your green earrings to match your gown. Your nails were washed and clipped thoroughly, and you insisted on a clean bath before all of it.

“I’ll speak to you later!” you called out to your handmaiden as she left you in privacy. you always knew where Aemond would be waiting for you. you loved times like these, where you could dress that gorgeously only to be with your pretty big brother in your chambers.

You quickly settled on your bed, reading a small book Aemond got you from the Vale about different mountains. Aemond always knew what you liked, to your delight. You’d even wondered if he had any hidden presents here.

Time felt like an eternity as you waited for Aemond, and you began to doubt his arrival. Your eyelids began to close but you were insistent on waiting some more moments.

You tried to, but your slumber overtook you, and you ultimately lost yourself to the night.

Only then had he come in.

You had drifted up to slumber, your beautiful gown lifted past your hips. Silly girl, he thought, watching your glistening cunt spread out into the cold air. Your beautiful eyes were closed, hair sprawled all through your silken pillows, and soft sighs leaving your lips.

You looked so beautiful, the true image of Valyrian beauty.

His footsteps just forced him to close the proximity. It was out of his control.

And as you lost yourself in slumber, you missed the way his hands slid up and down your beautiful legs, lifting one as he pressed a kiss to the heel of your foot.

No, that wasn't enough. A kiss on the ankle will do.

Perhaps a kiss on the calf.

And he couldn't make any excuses any more, his lips hastily trailing up to your upper thighs, his hands hastily thrown over his shoulders. His mouth pressed an open kiss to your cunt, losing himself in the heavenly taste of your confined flesh.

You shifted slightly, your beautiful back arching as you let out a sleepy moan. Poor girl, you probably thought it was a dream. A mere reflection of the desire that occupied your mind.

Aemond was well aware of your feelings. Your beautiful gaze always drifted onto him, sitting on his lap as he read you a book about Valyrian gods, his clothed cock rubbing against your pretty clothed cunt every time you tried to read for yourself.

So, who was he to not reward you for your patience? His tongue gently penetrated your hole, licking all around the throbbing beauty. Your beautiful lips made the sweet melodic noises he'd soon become addicted to, his tongue poking your hole faster, causing you to squirm and your hips to buck into his face.

"Ae-amond?" you groggily whispered, gasping at the sight of him between your legs, his lips glistening with your juices.

"Hush, sweet sister," he replied, kissing all around your thighs and the lips of your cunt. "It feels... pleasurable, does it not?"

All you could do was nod, too tired and too riled up to fight your common sense. You cracked a smile, your feet gently pulling him closer as he kept ravishing your swollen hole.

"Aemy.." you whisper, bucking your hips. "What if mother comes to bid me goodnight?"

He hummed, his tongue working on devouring your pink delight. His hands squeeze both of your thighs.

"How much I do not care," he uttered, a hand rising to grope your soft breast. "I could die a happy death in between these legs."

"But then you wouldn't see me again." you chuckled, bucking your hips into his face. his smirk widened as his one eye trained on yours as if it was a hypnosis.

you cried out as his tongue lapped at your folds, quickly flipping the two of you so you could do it at a pace of your own. your hands gripped the headboard, and you brought yourself to move your hips as if it were a swing.

his eye was still on yours, and under your folds, you could still feel his smirk.

"ae-aemy." you pant, moving your hips in a circular motion. "I-I..."

"I know, sweet sister," he replied, gently lifting you off him. you whined at the loss of proximity and felt the cold air on your bare skin. "The best thing hasn't happened yet, however."

you could only manage whines and moans as he guided you backwards, your cunt moving from his mouth to his cock. your hands held on to his shoulder, your thumbs slightly pressing into the sides of his neck. you felt the warmth of his hands on your hip.

"Careful..." he warned, slowly easing you down on his cock. you felt the thick length slowly opening up your virgin hole, your face red with unease.

his eye flickered up to you, and he let out a smirk as you attempted to sink to his cock, his tip kissing your cervix.

his hands slid up from your thighs to your round ass, firmly massaging the skin. you looked at him, and pressed your lips to his as you let the feeling sink in.

“Do I start to move?” you murmured against his lips, face uneasy with pain. “It hurts, Aemy.”

“I know, my sweet.” he whispered against your lips, lips trailing across your jaw. “It hurts for a maiden’s first time.”

You nodded, and could only bite your lip as you slowly moved up, with his hands shifting to your hips, massaging circles into them.

Aemond only wished he could take it faster, to finally feel himself marking your womb as his. He had loved you for years and absolutely hated the fact you did not feel loved. At the end of the night, he decided, you would feel loved.

You slowly moved yourself back down, and you winced in pain. You locked eyes with Aemond, only to find his eyes closed. He pulled your body down to press your lips against him, your moans of pain muffled.

Your agony slowly began to dissipate into pleasure, and you could feel the prince’s soft moans as he thrusts his hips up, filling you up. You moaned in pleasure as you bounced, your hands on his chest.

His veiny hands reached up to your hair, undoing the hair your handmaidens had spent an eternity on. It allowed for your beautiful locks to cascade down, covering your pink nipples.

“Aemy…” you moaned, breathless gasps leaving your mouth as his skin slapped against yours, your round breasts bouncing a sight for sore eyes. “I-I love you. Too much. Only y-you.”

His eye snapped open at that, and he quickly flipped you two over, towering over you. His lips marked your neck as you writhed and arched. His hands groped your breasts, moving your hair out of the way.

“Shh, sweetness,” he whispered, his nose brushing against yours. “I know. I know.”

His large girth split you in half and had you gripping the sheets, your legs widening even more open.

He could only let out moans and groans, concentrating on filling you and making you feel pleasure.

“One day, we will do this to bear children,” he tells you, kissing along the side of your face. “You will become my wife, and always stay at my side.”

You could only smile, rolling your hips up.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked with a slight grin, kissing your chest and collarbone. “Waiting on me each day, each night. Wrapped in my sheets and eager to welcome me.”

You nodded eagerly, his hands pushing your knees to your chest. Your face was red, with tears streaming down your beautiful eyes.

You panted and kept panting as you felt a knot tighten up in your stomach. You breathed heavily, your walls clenching around his length.

“Aemy!” you cried out, thrown between the sheets as you wildly threw your head back, hips bucking ferociously against him.

You bit your lip, face red and teary as you came close, holding him closer to you.

“Let it out,” he murmured, nose rubbing against your neck. “Listen to me.”

You obliged, and as the knot in your stomach snapped, sticky white juices came sprawling out, clenching around and milking his meat.

His eye rolled back at the feeling, and he let out some more thrusts, before slowing down immensely and pulling out, frowning at the loss of proximity.

“Sit still,” he ordered, and you did as he asked, while you felt your chest being painted with his creamy juices.

“Now…” he panted, pulling you to lie against his chest. “Do you still doubt my love? Do you still wish for me to prove my love?”

“Hm?” you shot up, heart jolting at his question. did he read the paper under your bed? gods, you could have died right there.

“Hm?” Aemond mimicked you, placing a finger under your chin and lifting it to make you look at him. “I don’t wish for you to ever doubt my love. Ever.”

You only nodded, kissing down his chest causing his heart to soften.

Aemond had finally bedded you, and you couldn’t wait to repeat it all.

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scruus · 5 months ago

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★ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞? ]

✎ : sub kaveh x dom gn reader notes: handjob(Kaveh receiving), dacryphilia, dirty talk, begging, wholesome at the end so porn with plot, reader being a simp because this is very much a self insert.

author talks: WE ARE SO BACK YALL (gang signs 🤟). It took me so long to get back into my writing space again and am happy am back.

lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ favorite - isabel larosa

Kaveh was seated in front of you, dressed in the costume of a veiled dancer of the medieval century. And coincidentally so, the costume was similar to a fanart you had seen a few weeks before of the character Link from the game, Legend of Zelda. Who is currently your new obsession.

He didn’t need much help with the costume because his features and hair were an almost exact copy of that blonde twink but what shocked you was the bare torso with only chains of jewellery hanging and they added a shimmering sheen. It was like his body was a painted canvas and the gold chains coupled with small studded gems were the sheen to the final art form.

That darning pretty face was covered with a thin red veil and his arms had puffed sleeves which were lonely with no other garment around. The flowing skirt beneath his abdomen were like broad drapes spaced evenly, letting you have a peek at his milky white thighs and red thong.

Thong?!, your eyes widened with complete shock. How did I not notice that!

Upon looking at his shy face for answers, you realized it would be futile with the way he was avoiding your gaze, his eyes almost burning a hole into the carpet. However, mischief was a trait that was quite comfortable under your skin and all the more torturing for your lover.

“Kaveh….”, his body jerked at your voice, ears changing color from nude to red while he sat shyly. “Where did you get that thong?”, his jaw clenched while his hands formed into fists holding tightly at his skirt, feeling the warm shame rise in his body as he now switched his seating position to hide the underwear from you.

He grumbled quiet messes of words but you failed to hear it. The idea that whatever force had made him dress up like this was so enticing to you. You obviously knew he liked to cosplay a few characters here and there and you loved seeing him dress up. But never had you ever witnessed him in such a scandalous costume, that too of video game character he is supposed to ‘hate’.

“Kaveh…I asked you some-"

“UGH! I BOUGHT IT FROM A LINGERIE SITE!”, he shouted, rushing to bury his heating face in his hands, praying that the ground just opens up and swallows him whole and let him at mercy.

The urge to laugh was almost hurting your chest but you had to resist the temptation. In defense, you bit your bottom lip but Kaveh knew better. He sighed dejectedly, “you can laugh…”, as he looked at you.

You shook your head in response, “no no am not laughing I am just curious”. Although partly lying, it was true. The question of why he had done this was eating at you since whenever you suggested him an even mildly spicy outfit, he would straight up shut you out. Hot-headed much. So what caused this change?

“About what?”, he groaned with a frustrated pout on his face, hoping this entire ordeal just ends and he stops sitting like some guilty criminal.

“….. why Link?”, Link was one of your favourite characters but very much despised by your boyfriend. He used to complain about him at every chance he could get and you would just laugh at his pettiness. Playing the game? he would grumble about his character design. See his merch somewhere? Talk shit about the price and quality. And all the times you brought him up during lunch or dinner when the fangirling hit too hard, you could see his eyes almost roll into the back of his head.

In conclusion, he HATED that twink.

Kaveh decided to remain silent and aloof. Pupils darting around the room while his fingers fiddled with each other. It was a question he feared you would ask. He could lie or make up something random but would catch on quick. And the fact that you would probably accept his lie and not push him for the real answer hurt him more because your affection for him reaches heights.

“Honey I-“

“You liked him”, he replied softly.

“Huh?”

“….you liked him alot and I hated it”

You wish you could jump on him and grab that puffed, angry face of his which had the most adorable pout ever and kiss him hard. The kind of kiss that makes him forget his name and a little weak in the knees. The one that make him begging for more like a shameless whore.

A glow sparked on your face as you smiled at him. Directing your fingers at him, you patted your lap in an attempt to make him sit on your lap. Kaveh obliged, which was rather shocking because he usually turned a blind eye to your doting acts. It would either be you running after him to make him comply or his neediness for you overpowering his attitude.

Looks like today was the latter.

He straddled your lap, eyes still avoiding your own yet both bodies radiating the heat of need. “Were you jealous?”, your tone was delicate and sincere which led Kaveh to lose his guard. He slowly nodded his head before looking down at you. The sapphire red eyes of his being all so lovely and that gorgeous face of his beaming a dark red.

“Do you think I link Link more than you?”, you asked while your fingers trailed up and down his spine, sparking little goosebumps on his skin. Kaveh already knew the answer but his own insecurities resulted in the surety of his doubt. He refused to answer.

“Well then, would you be happy if I show my love for you?”, the question was straight and simple, even wholesome, one would say. However, Kaveh’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as if noticing something more sinister was hidden between your words .

“How about I bend you over and fuck you in this costume”, your one hand treaded through his messy hair as the whispers made his tummy churn while the other groped his butt.

“Or better….I’ll raw dog you in front of our mirror-“, so sultry and hot, that was how you sounded right now, “and you can see how we both look like when you take my strap deep inside”. Kaveh pursed his lips in, swallowing whatever saliva was remnant on his mouth because the heat was starting to rush down to his dick and it was suddenly difficult to breathe normally.

The visual imagery of what you would look like, the expressions your face would contort to and the suggestion of what a ruined mess he would look under you got him all dizzy and aching.

Your hand suddenly slipped inside his skirt, grabbing his growing boner which was covered with the red thong. His body jerked upwards, stunned by the touch. “What are you-a-ah?”, a moan escaped from his lips and he was appalled at his own reaction. What the fuck are you doing?

“What? Didn’t you dress up all nice and cute for me?”, you leaned in forward with a grin on your face, lips just a few shaky breaths apart from his. Wrapping your hand around his stiff dick, you slowly rubbed it making sure your eyes never lost the sight of his own. His pale body was now adapting a reddish color, like his entire body had decided to reject his morales and act according to your will.

“I-I don’t kn-“, a strangled moan was heard when you squeezed your palm around his dick.

“Didn't you wear this slutty thong for easy access?”, Kaveh’s inner voice was screeching at him with how you sounded right now, “so that I can pull it to the side and slide myself in for a quickie?”. The implication of your words were making it so difficult for any rationale thoughts inside his head and that too with your soft palm working around his shaft, he suddenly felt all weak.

“Ah look at you, getting all excited just from a few words”, you merely chuckled and his dick twitched in your hand. Kaveh started unconsciously bucking in your palms. “F-fuck fuck…”, he bit down on his lip stifling those whorish noises to which he received a harsh smack on his ass. Eyes widening in surprise as a gasp slipped from his throat.

It stings, he thinks. It stings so why is it that his cock is rock hard? Why is the painful stimulation driving all his blood down to his already burning core? And instead of despising it, why does he want more? He blinked rapidly trying to keep the newly bloomed tears at bay. He is whining like a pathetic slut, he can’t start crying too!

“I want to hear your voice Kaveh”, a stern command from you got to his head and he whimpered and squirmed under your gaze. “Do. Not. Be. A. Brat”, eyes scanning his burning face which so evidently revealed the desperation surging inside him. His hips grinding into your hand, chasing after the addictive feeling while heat started pooling between your legs.

“s’ good…feels good”, his moans sputtered easily as his mind slipped into a subspace. Kaveh stared at your face with adoration and he croaked his begs for a kiss. Oh they look so soft, he thinks wanting to press his lips against your own so bad all the while he ruts into your hand like was so beautifully pitiful.

You pulled him in by the back of his head and his arms wrapped around your neck. He nibbled at your lips hastily just so your tongues could intertwine, resembling an earnest puppy. He was losing himself. Needy whines of your lover, that were poorly muffled by your lips, were filling up the room and god was it intoxicating.

You fastened the pace of your hand on his weeping cock and he sobbed curses. It was adorable the way he trembled in your grasp all the while his throbbing dick sent flutters of zaps down his body. Shit he was close.

“uhn~c-close close mmh”, he was blabbering like a kid, like he didn’t know what ‘sentences’ are and that almost made you kiss him into a puddle again. But no. You wanted to hear him. Hear his words out aloud, no matter how shameless and humiliating they are. You wanted to hear him beg.

“Slow dow-ough s-slow please!”, his nerves were burning. That brain of his had already turned to mush and he had thrown away whatever dignity he had left the moment you decided to jerk him off. Mouth wide open, panting, as tears started to trickle down and he clenched your shirt for dear life. He feared the orgasm would make him pass out.

“Should I stop?”, you teased and that just made him whine. He wanted to cum so bad and if you paused even for a mere second, he would start wailing. Looks like he has really being reduced to a crying slut.

“No! No ungh~!”, he cried out, both your sweaty foreheads rested against another as his gaze fixated on the way his dripping cock was moving in and out of your pretty hands. It was so obscene but fuck did it feel good. The way your hands moved at a brutal rhythm and his head sported a swollen reddish-pink color, it was legit a scene from a porno.

“Cum for me then”, you huffed, feeling the heat spread under your skin, fire dancing on your nerves. And as if waiting for your command, Kaveh dug his nails in your shoulders before sputtering all over your top. The white liquid sticking to your trousers as you continued to massage his high off making his dick throb cutely. Kaveh felt his toes curl and there was a loss of voice in his throat for a few seconds. His hips spasming during the release while his entire body arched into you.

Shaking gasps and trembling moans left his mouth as the aftershocks still waved through his body. He swear he could almost see his vision turn dark before collapsing on you, body immediately going limp. His nose took in the scent of your perfume to which his strained muscles responded by relaxing. Time had seemed to halt and the only sounds that could be heard was Kaveh’s slumbering sighs and the soft caress of your fingers on his back.

“I love you, you do know that right?”, you finally spoke up, trying to soothe any dilemma in his mind even the act you two commited just now but what you received from him was a soft boyish laugh. The same one that made you fall head over heels when you first met him in the bar.

“I know….I just….I was jealous”, he traced shapes on your chest, avoiding your gaze once again because he knew he was blushing and the last thing he wanted to see right now was your smirk. Well he was wrong about it. You had never looked so lovesick with that grin on your face, like an absolute fool whose entirety revolves around their blonde, hot headed, bashful lover.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him in close and cuddling and it made his eyes feel heavy. Just before they shut down, he mumbled in a hushed tone, “I love you too”.

And there you sat, still and looking like a bright red tomato as your heart threatened to jump out of your chest.

Shit, you thought, I am so cooked.

#.rizzler #.kaveh #sub kaveh #sub genshin impact #dom reader #this is a love letter to my baby #♥️♥️♥️♥️#genshin impact smut #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #smut #sub character #dom gn reader #kaveh

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crazyoffher · 1 year ago

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IMBECILE.

summary: billie's lack of attention toward you causes you to meet with a guy who tries to seduce you. then, does she finally give you attention.

warnings: smut (18+) — oral (r receiving), strap-on, dirty talk, jealousy, men, dom!b and sub!r, roughness, slight begging, slight angst, my writing.

word amount: 2900+

a/n: two posts in one day lesss gooooooo

“Baby, I think we should go.” You nudged Billie, who sat beside you and was too engrossed in her conversation with Claudia and Marinelli to have noticed your tired expression earlier. She turned to hear the sound of your voice, and you noticed how her eyes drooped slightly as well.

The party was a celebration event for one of Billie’s mutual friends from around four years prior, and you originally didn’t want to go. Maybe it was because of the dating rumors between Billie and this friend of hers at the time, but you blamed it on the lack of sleep due to your harsh job. Billie had begged you to accompany her, though, promising to leave around 11 p.m., but it was 1 a.m. and she was still sitting around the couch with her hand on your thigh.

“Ten minutes, please.” She begged you, ignoring your need for sleep as you had to go to work around seven hours later. You were ready to respond when Marinelli tapped on her shoulder, presumably to get her attention again, and she didn’t wait for an answer before indulging herself in the conversation she was previously in.

You sighed, your eyes drooping a little bit, and you knew that the earliest you’d be leaving was thirty minutes, not ten. Seeing a hand wave at you through your peripherals, you tilted your head to see Finneas waving you over from the barside, a drink set off to the side for you.

You moved Billie’s hand from your thigh, the girl seemingly not noticing, and you made your way over to Finneas, eyeing him tilt the drink toward the edge of the bar. You gave him a smile. “Love ‘ya, Finn.”

“Anything for my future sister-in-law.” You pushed his shoulder, taking the cup that was filled with ginger ale and wasting half the cup in one gulp. Bartenders and their ridiculous amounts of ice. “You tired?’

“A little bit,” you hovered your index finger over your thumb, giving him a visual to which he laughed at, “but Billie wants to talk to Marinelli and Claudia more, so I’m trying my hardest to not pass out.”

“I can give you a ride home if you want. Billie’s clearly not taking your own needs into mind.” Finneas offered. You waved him off, telling him it was fine and that you would just… sleep at your desk at work, finishing off the ginger ale and asking the bartender for a glass of water.

You and Finneas talked for a little, maybe five minutes, before he was hit in the head with a pingpong ball on purpose, a couple of his friends trying to catch his attention to get him to play. He turned to you, teeth flashing in a smile to try and get your permission to go, to which you just pushed him off the stool and he left you alone.

You loved Billie’s smile—a happy glint in her eye as she laughed at something Claudia said—but your admiration was disrupted when someone tapped you on the shoulder. Turning, you saw a man, 5’10 in height and dressed in all brown, giving you a smile and a tooth gem sitting on one of his front teeth. “Hey, pretty girl.”

He sat by you to your dismay, deciding not to retaliate at his comment. You were never good at dealing with guys (or girls) flirting with you; Billie usually handled it for you with an arm around the waist or a kiss to the cheek. “You’re dating Billie, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Well,” he turned his head, eyeing Billie and seeing her engrossed in a conversation, “she’s not looking, and I think you’re pretty fine. What do you say to me and you in the upstairs bathroom? It’s pretty big and soundproofed, if you know what I mean.” He sent you a wink, and the urges to throw up on him and throw your cup at him met together in your mind.

“I think I’m good.” You scooted away from him slightly, but he only moved his bar stool closer toward you. The bartender delivered your water, but you didn’t want to drink it anymore. “You sure, girl? I mean,” he said, planting his hand on your thigh, in the same position Billie had her hand on, “I can give you the pleasure; I’m almost positive Billie doesn’t give you any-”

“Says who?” You flinched at the familiar voice, whipping your head behind you to see Billie sending the man a death glare. “You don’t know shit, Markus. Come on.” She grabbed hold of your upper arm in a fierce grip, pulling you out of the bar stool and out of the house entirely. Her decency was still there in her mind to open the passenger door for you, but not enough decency as she slammed it shut in rage.

“Billie-”

“No.” She said it simply, her voice awfully calm, and you wouldn’t have thought she was so mad if she didn’t have smoke fuming out of her ears. The drive home was silent. You had decided not to try to talk to her because it would only break out into a major argument.

“Why didn’t you tell him to fuck off? Go and fucking chop his hand off of your thigh?” Her voice rang in your ears as you made it home, walking up the steps to the front door, when you heard the venom that swam through her tone.

“Don’t you go and start blaming me for this.” You fought off her words, or at least tried to. “None of this would’ve happened if you just kept your promise, and we would’ve left two hours ago! But no, it’s fucking one a.m. and you decided to not care about my needs—shit, Billie, I have to leave for work in five hours!”

“Get inside.” She demanded, ultimately shoving you inside the house when you decided not to do what she said. She turned on the light that was beside the front door, illuminating the front of the house and parts of the living room as well. “Don’t you touch me like-”

“Take off your clothes.” The finger you pointed in her direction dropped, and your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Take off your clothes. I’m not gonna ask again.” Billie was already undressing, hanging her coat on the rack beside the door, and unbuttoning the dress shirt that you had requested she wear. Her hands traveled to her belt, unbuckling the leather fabric, and it was then that you snapped out of your trance.

“No,” you hardly ever said no to her, and you said it for good reason. You were definitely into rough sex with Billie—more into it than anything else—but you knew that the more mature route was to talk out her rage, not fuck it out.

You knew you were right. Still, you couldn’t hold back the moan that left your mouth when Billie got you up against the wall. Her hand dug into your pants and underwear, her thumb slowly circling your clit with pressure that’d have you on the edge if she were to rub faster.

“No? Say that one more time for me, baby, and I’ll stop.” The hand that wasn’t cupped around your heat was unbuttoning your jeans button, giving her hand more mobility and allowing her fingers to dip down to your entrance. The tips of her fingers brushed against your hole, and you grinded against her hand in an attempt to get her to properly finger you.

“I’m not hearing you, love.”

“Don’t, d-don’t stop,” You stuttered out, your hands meeting her waist while you grinded into her hand. A smirk slithered it’s way onto her face, her index finger circling around your hole, making you whine out. She grabbed your hand from her waist and planted it against her crotch, your senses alerting you that she had a strap-on.

“You’ve had that on all night?” You met Billie’s gaze, immediately shrinking at how dark her look was. A smirk still sat on her face, and she licked her lips when you started to rub the silicone against your palm.

“I planned on fucking you to sleep, but oh god, this is so much better. Isn’t it?” Her lips met yours, her hand leaving yours that was keen on rubbing her bulge and gripping the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into her as her movements on your clit fastened. You were a moaning mess, the sounds muffled by Billie’s tongue shoved into your mouth as she redirected the two of you to the couch, not once breaking contact.

You broke contact when Billie pushed you onto the couch. Her touch was more gentle compared to before, but you knew she still had steam to blow off. She settled in between your legs, her tongue licking at your hip while her hands moved to take off your jeans, her tongue moving down your right leg the further she took the fabric off of you.

The sight of you biting your lip, trying not to beg her while looking at her with doe eyes and your mouth agape, was something she would never tire of seeing. “You never fail to look so pretty—all mine and never anyone else’s.” Her voice contorted into a slight growl at the end, seemingly remembering why you were now submissive to her on the couch.

Despite the heat of the situation you found yourself in, a light blush tinted your cheeks at her praises, finding them sweet even if she was about to fuck your brains out.

“Now,” she crawled up slightly, her head inches away from your core and her hands gripping your hips where the hems of your underwear were, “I’ll show you the pleasure that fuckhead thinks I can’t give you, yeah?” You nodded vigorously, the two sharp, fang-like teeth that were biting down into your lip starting to draw blood as you waited for her.

Billie sat up, her ass resting on the balls of her feet as she took your underwear off, mouth salivating at the sight of your glistening core even in the slight darkness. Usually, she’d tease you and make you beg for her to put her tongue on your clit, but tonight she was too impatient and dove straight in.

Your hand flew to her hair, grabbing a bunch of it as you let out a rather loud moan at the feeling of Billie licking up and down your folds, the pressure of her tongue hardening as she’d flick over your clit. “Fuck!”

She removed her tongue from your clit, and you let out a distressed whine before letting out a shocked moan at the feeling of her thumb rubbing fast circles on your clit. Her tongue moved to your hole, licking around the area, making you buck your hips up against her face. You knew she was using her saliva as lubrication for the silicone, but it didn’t make the feeling any less pleasurable.

“Mmph, oh…” She ran her tongue over your entrance one more time before spitting on the area, and you’d hate to admit how hot the sight of that was. Your hips bucked up once more as she removed both her tongue and fingers from you, but you didn’t whine because you knew what was coming.

Billie pushed herself up on her elbows, leaning forward to capture you in a harsh kiss, and you could feel her hand travel to the silicone cock she had, not even aware she had taken her pants off. “Be a good girl for me and take all of it, okay?” She asked when her lips left yours, and you nodded with wider eyes than before while your teeth found your bottom lip again.

She crowded her face into your neck, bruisingly sucking on an area to make a hickey while she lined herself up against you. She bit your neck when she thrust her hips forward, filling you with half of the silicone, and you let out a pornographic (though true) moan at the feeling of the girthy, long cock stuffing into you.

“Shit, shit! Faster, please go faster.” You begged her; any self respect you had for yourself was thrown out the window when Billie thrust herself completely into you. Her attack on your neck continued while pumping in and out of you, starting out slow for your own sake but getting the memo to move faster when you hungrily humped against her cock, a desperate search for pleasure ensuing.

She bit, nipped, licked, and sucked around the area on your neck before letting go with a pop, her eyes narrowing at the sight of a large, purple hickey right above your pulse point. She met your lips once more, and you barely kissed back from the daze you found yourself in, Billie’s hips now rocking back and forth impossibly fast.

“Oh, fuck. Look at you all wet and tight around me. My girl.” Billie purred, now sitting up on her knees, allowing her to capture your entire body in her line of sight. Your breasts jumped heavenly against the thin fabric of your shirt, and your head was thrown back, mouth open, because how else could you be letting out the moans that filled Billie’s ears better than any piece of music ever could?

“Shit!” You flung your head forward, strands of hair sticking to your face from sweat, and watched as Billie’s silicone moved in and out of you with ease. That feeling you knew all too well, one where a coil in your stomach was burning, had returned. With every thrust, you felt it was going to snap, and soon.

“God, how I’d love to add this sight of you,” Billie bent over slightly, her hand grazing your cheek and tilting your head to look up at her, “to my collection. How I’d love nothing more than to masturbate to a video of you writhing underneath me when I’m fucking you just like this.”

Billie videotaping the two of you being intimate wasn’t an uncommon experience, but she didn’t do it all the time. You allowed her to do it when she first asked you, and the sight of you in that moment, breasts on display and bouncing while your hair was messed up and covering your forehead, was a sight that Billie wanted to savor. And savor, she did that time, and another time, and another.

She originally brought the idea up because she missed you more than anything while on tour, meaning she missed your body and how you looked underneath her as well. So, when it was close to midnight and her brother and mother were out, she’d pull up the collection she made of you in her photos, and she’d happily finger herself at a video of you sucking off her silicone or getting rammed by it.

She stuck her thumb into your mouth, which you happily sucked on, biting down on it when you felt Billie hit that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. She groaned at the feeling of your teeth clenching around her finger because she was fucking you too well, and she could tell you were close to releasing when you started twitching.

“I know you’re close, baby, am I right?” Billie grabbed your left leg, pushing it up and over her ankle, allowing her to fuck you deeper and harder. You gasped around her finger, eagerly nodding at her words. You moved your right hand to brush the hair out of your face, holding yourself up slightly to watch as Billie slammed the silicone cock in and out of you with ease.

“Billie—fuck! I’m gonna cum; can I cum?” Desperation was more than evident in your voice, and you had been teased and forced to beg one too many times to the point where it was instinctive to ask for permission. Billie only grinned, resting the side of her face against your leg that was on her shoulder while she fucked into you, her eyes darkening as you held eye contact with her. “Billie, please!”

You felt the vibrations of her laugh travel throughout your leg, and you found yourself struggling to hold off the release you desperately wanted. With a bite of her lip, her eyes explored throughout your body, starting from her hips driving into yours up to your face, impatience clear in your narrowed eyes.

“You’ve been good. Cum for me, baby.” That was the only agreement you needed to loosen up, your orgasm hitting you hard from the delay, having you shaking and twitching under Billie. She pumped slowly in and out of you to help you ride out your orgasm, her mouth salivating at the white substance that coated her silicone. She ran her index finger through your wet pussy before taking the collected cum and putting it into her mouth, sucking off your sweet juices considering pineapple was your favorite fruit.

With her adrenaline running out, Billie fell on top of you, her hands holding your waist while yours dug back into her hair, this time softly scratching her scalp. The silicone cock was still inside of you, and every slight movie Billie made had you twitching slightly, though you weren’t horny anymore.

With a yawn, you rested your head back on the couch, letting out content breaths. “You think I should call out of work today?”

“If I can keep you like this,” Billie’s arms fully wrapped themselves around your waist, her face burying into the cloth of your shirt, “then definitely.”

☟ ☟ ☟

(billie) taglist: @grandpatrolnut @annalestern @rhythm-catsandwine @jennas-10

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sachiko6243 · 9 months ago

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The Kings plaything - Part 2/2

Summary: After the dwarves have been imprisoned, Thranduil wants to take care of his wife, but gets interrupted by their escape. After deciding to come to their aid at the reclaiming of Erebor, he finally gets to have his wife, more than once...

Word count: 11965

Warnings: smut, rough, Dom! Thranduil, sub! reader, oral both receiving, gem play, dirty talk, slight BDSM, slight battle descriptions, Minors DNI this contains adult content!

Part 1:

“You know what I was thinking about?” My husband asked, still holding me tightly to his chest in the bathtub. It was a big bathtub, embedded in the ground, big enough for me not to fully reach the ground, or touch the edges, when I was in the middle.

Letting my head roll back on his shoulders, I opened my body further to his touches. “That you are incredible greedy and cant let go of your wife?” I teased, watching his hands roam over my body. He chuckled at my words, rolling my nipples between his fingers. “Something of that sort, yes.” He answered, his voice nearly drowned out from my moan. “But it does not seem to be a complaint of yours.”

“The day I complain about your touches, is the day I have reached insanity.” I simply stated, pressing my back against his body. “Promising words to hear from your mouth, little petal.” He murmured into my ear. I turned around, straddling him. His eyes twitched, when my core touched his hard member, the light in his blue orbs turning lustful. “What is it, that crossed your mind, herven?”

“Remember what the dwarf said?” He asked, a sly smirk on his lips.

“He said a lot.” I simply stated, raising an eyebrow at my husbands antics. The smirk on his lips just grew bolder, reaching his eyes. “That he did… But I was referring to the idea he gave me.” Thranduil whispered lowly, still not clarifying what he meant.

“An idea of what sorts?” I pressed on. Thranduil just lifting me up, until I sat on the stone edge of the tub. Luckily the floor was warm, heated through a complicated system of hot water running below.

I looked at my husband confused, who stood in the water, covered up to his chest. His hair neatly pinned to his head with needles and rods, he looked at me. Lifting himself out of the water, he walked through the room towards his little secret wardrobe where he kept his most worn jewels. I watched as the water ran down his body in little droplets, the sun reflecting in everyone of them, giving my husband an even more ethereal look. He turned around holding something in his hands.

Letting himself sink into the water, he walked up to me, putting something on my stomach. I gasped in shock, realizing what it was. It was one of his bigger white gemstones that he usually wore on a clasp. He must have taken it off and now it was roughly the size of two or three curled fingers. “You are mad!” I breathed out, watching the grin form on my husbands face in shock.

“Maybe.” He admitted. “Lean back, meleth.” Softly pushing me back down, his eyes raking over my body. Shaking my head, I sunk back. If my husband had set his mind upon something, there was almost nothing that could force him away from his path. And only seconds later, I could feel the cold stone press against my folds and making its way into my body. It was a weird but fulfilling feeling, and I let out a soft gasp.

“Spread your legs.” Thranduil softly ordered, his fingers ghosting over my body. I did what he wanted, now laying fully open for him to see. Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched him. “You look so beautiful.” He whispered, touching every inch of my body. “So, so beautiful…” Then his gaze wandered to my face. “I will have someone make more gemstones for you to wear.”

“I already have so many.” I argued, but he shook his head. “I am not talking about those, little petal.” A sly smirk sunk on his features, the arrogance in his eyes nearly swallowing me whole.

A sudden knock on the door made his head snap around. Heaving himself out of the water, he wrapped a cloak around him, answering the door, without opening it too far. “What?” His sharp tone made even me flinch and I felt sorry for whatever soldier had to endure his wrath now…

“I am so sorry, my king. But… But the dwarves. They have escaped.” Came the silent voice from Feren and I rose to my feet as well. The stone sitting inside me, now weighing down, threatening to fall out of me. I clenched my walls, slowly walking towards my cloak to get dressed as well. After I was dressed decent enough, I joined my husband at the door, then pressing out to take a seat in one of the chairs to find some sort of relief. Sitting down however was another story, because the new position caused the stone to massage my walls again.

Just fast enough to suppress a moan, I listened in on Feren explaining what had happened. The longer he talked, the more the expression on my husband changed from annoyed to amused, until he even wore a small grin on his lips. “That filthy little hobbit…” He murmured, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I just tilted my head. “Seems like they are very persistent in getting back that mountain. We might as well grand them some aid.”

Thranduil sighed deeply at my words: “We shall see if they manage to get to the mountain and then we shall decide whether to come to their aid or not.” I didn’t complain about his statement, knowing that this was the closest I would get him right now to grand anything. Feren looked at me with a smirk, silently shaking his head. I just winked at him, knowing full well that he was mostly amused by the way I simply held Thranduil in check.

***

It did indeed not take long until we received word of the dwarves reclaiming Erebor, unleashing the fire of Smaug upon the small village of Laketown. That’s when I raced to my husband, finding him already discussing details with Feren. “Herven…” I breathed out, sucking in the air into my lungs from my long race. “The dwarves… Laketown… It got destroyed. We must help.” Thranduil quickly rushed towards me, taking the scroll out of my hand and steadying my body. “Careful, meleth. Please sit down. We are already discussing how to help them.”

I gladly took the chair and water that I was brought, then taking a look on the map and all the little figures standing in to represent war strategics. It did indeed not take us long to figure out what to do, most of the work already having been done by my husband and Feren before I even reached them.

And when Thranduil gave the orders to his people to get ready, I also rushed towards our chambers, packing my armor and spare clothes as well as my weapons. “Ithil, what are you doing?” The voice of my husband interrupted me in my doings and I turned around, two daggers in my hand. “I am getting ready to accompany you.” A soft smile spread across his lips. “No you don’t. You have to stay here and rule the kingdom while I am gone.”

I shook my head. “You know that’s not happening. Through good and bad. Remember?” Turning, I kept on packing my things, until his warm arms wrapped around me, holding my hands in place. “I will not let any harm come to you.” But I interrupted him: “You said yourself it would be easy to reclaim those jewels. What are you fearing that you are not telling me, herven?”

“Nothing my dear. I just want to spare you from the sights of a battle field.” He argued back, loosening his grip around me. I turned in his arms. “I have had a life before you. I have seen battle. Let me ride with you. We both know that I am a good fighter. Not as great as you, but I can take on your son with ease.”

He smiled at those words, and I knew it wouldn’t take much more for me to convince him. “It is true that you can stand against my son, but still…”

“No buts, herven. I will accompany you and that’s my last word.”

Sighing deeply, he shook his head, letting go of me. “As you wish, meleth. Just promise me to stay at my side and be careful.” I kissed him on his chest, not reaching much higher with him standing at full height of nearly 7ft. “I always am. We don’t want you to succumb back to your cold self, do we?” He raised an eyebrow, bending down to me: “A kiss to the chest is all I get after letting you accompany me into battle? I think I deserve way more than that.”

Seeing the jest in his eyes, instead of giving him a real kiss, I sunk to my knees. “I think you do. How about you make me show you how good I am at following your orders?” Looking at him through my lashes, I started to softly palm his cock through the fabric, feeling him already growing hard under my touch. Thranduils smile grew wicked, but he kept his composure: “Would this have been your last resort if I had not agreed to you riding with me?” I tilted my head, slowly opening the strings of his pants. “Maybe. Who knows…?”

“Open your mouth!” He growled and I did what I was told. He easily held my head while he pushed his member down my throat, beginning to fuck my mouth in a slow teasing pace. His thrusts were controlled but hard, making me gag, but I managed to suppress the urge to vomit. “By Valar�� You look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock, pin iell. Taking your kings cock so obediently down your throat.” I let out a strangled moan and clutched the hand that held my head.

“You like this, do you?” He teased, shoving my head down on his cock until my nose was pushed against his pelvis. “Sucking on my cock like the greedy little whore you are, serving me as the good girl I trained you to be. I should really take you in front of others more often. It seems to make you even more obedient than I thought it would.” Ripping my head back, he allowed me to breathe, the sudden overflow of air making my head spin and I had to close my eyes to regain some control.

“Look at me!” A sharp pain shot through my cheek and I opened my eyes again. Instantly my body screamed for more, the pleasure of the pain immediately shooting down to my core. I closed my eyes again, not before winking at him. I felt his hand land on my cheek again, forcing a mewled sound to leave my mouth. “Don’t tell me you like this…” He muttered in shock, the grasp in my hair softening a bit. I looked away in shame. “I do… More than I should…”

“Fuck…” He growled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know… I didn’t… I didn’t want you to think of me badly. What you give me is already enough, I didn’t want to sound greedy and demanding…” Whispering, I looked to the floor, not finding the strength to stand under his gaze. His demeanor completely shifted after my confession, a soft stroke to my cheek making me look up to him, nearly being kicked out of reality by the love and passion in his blue hues. “You never have to feel guilty about asking me for something, you hear my meleth? I wish to fulfill any desire of you, please don’t deny me that honor.” His smile grew cocky with his next words: “Besides, I love my wife to be greedy and insatiable. It brings great pleasure to me, knowing that you love to be taken and used…”

I just stared at him, my mind reeling over the things I wanted to say, but I was incapable of wording my thoughts. Thranduil just cocked his head, the grip on my head growing stronger again. “Tell me, little starlight. Do you want me to be rougher with you. Use you even more to my pleasure?”

“Yes…” I whimpered silently, not bringing the strength to speak up. He tapped my lips with his thumb. “Yes what?”

“Yes, my king. I want you to use me. To be your little whore. That you take me at your will, please, herven. Have me.” I begged, my eyes conveying the desperate need I felt pooling between my legs. He hesitated for a moment, but then he used his forefinger and thumb to squeeze my mouth open, thrusting back down my throat without a warning.

A moan escaped me, as he picked up fucking my mouth to his pleasure. This time he was rougher, holding my head in place with one hand, while the other wiped away the tears that rolled down my cheeks. Drool started to drip down my chin and I tried to breath through my nose. His cock kept thrusting deep into my throat, causing me to gag, but he didn’t care. “Just like that. Be my little slut.” He praised me, his head rolling back on his shoulders.

I hummed with pleasure at his words, feeling the wetness pool between my legs, surely making a mess inside my pants. Thranduils movements were methodical and strong, barely giving me any room to relax or breathe, but it felt way to good for me to complain. The feeling of his cock laying heavy on my tongue the salty taste of his precum showing his pleasure. I felt like I was in heaven. But it was over way to quickly. Pulling me back from his cock, he pulled me to my feet handling me through the room and bending me over a shelf that was at my hips height.

Pushing me down on the wooden surface, he arched my back, forcing me to turn my head and look at him. “If you keep that work up, I wont be able to please you, bereth.”

“Yes please…” I whimpered, getting up on my toes to give him a better angle to thrust into my pussy. “Take me, please, just take me. I need you herven.” He didn’t need to be told twice, without a warning, he forced my knees apart and thrusted into me. I cried out in shock and pleasure as my walls were stretched so unexpectedly, but Thranduil didn’t react. Forcefully he pushed my hips into the position he wanted me to be in and held me down.

“If you are begging me to take you, you better live with the consequences.” He growled into my ear, setting a reckless pace. “You will take what I give you, like the good little whore you are. And you don’t come until I allow you to, understand?”

“Yes, my king.” I whimpered, trying to flee his hard grip, but there was nowhere to go but just take it. Tears started to form in my eyes once more, running down my cheeks. But Thranduil didn’t even think about giving me any mercy. “You brought this upon yourself. Now be a good girl and let me use you. You know your safe words, use them if you want out, but don’t think your crying will make me feel sorry.” He hissed close to my ear, giving my hair a harsh tug, so that I had to arch my back even further.

The new angle allowed him to fuck me deeper and much more intimately than before, making me see stars in seconds. His grip tightened around my hip, once he felt myself spasm around his cock, keeping me on my toes, while his hand in my hair kept my upper body pressed against his chest. The position was anything but comfortable and yet it gave me a kind of relief that I had never experienced before.

“Im mel cin.” He whispered into my ear. “More than anything in the world, you hear me?” I whimpered as a response, pressing myself even closer to him. His utter dominance leaving me breathless and overwhelmed and I hadn’t even realized how fucked out my body already was. But Thranduil just kept talking in the sweetest voice to me, while he literally took advantage of my body and his strength compared to mine. “You are the best thing that happened to me in my life. And I will never let any harm come to you. I have promised to protect and love you with all my heart and lightening shall strike me if I ever deviate from that path. Nothing shall ever come between us, my little starlight.”

I couldn’t help the emotional wave that his words triggered, beginning to cry uncontrollably in his arms, as my body continued to react to his touch. The cliff between emotional relieve and physical desire completely throwing me of my course. My legs began to give in, as my whole body started to shake and spasm, walls flickering around his cock uncontrollably. “Thranduil… Please…” I pressed out, incapable of formulating a straight sentence, as my orgasm approached me in big steps.

To my luck, he understood what I wanted from him, loosening the grip on my hair. Slowly he let me sink down onto the shelf, stroking my back with soft little touches. “Go on, meleth. Come for me. Let me feel that pussy grip my cock while you scream my name.” As soon as the words left his mouth, I broke. My orgasm shook me to the core, his name ringing through the room in a mixture of scream and moan. I tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing besides the wood I was pressed upon and his hand gently drawing shapes on my back.

Thranduil didn’t even seem like he had enough, he kept thrusting into me at the same pace as before, still holding me down with one hand. Now his free hand wandered to my throat, playing with it. “Open up for me.” He growled silently and I could hear the strain in his voice indicating that he did indeed hold back for me. Opening my lips, I let him force down his long digits into my throat, so far that it made me involuntarily gag. His fingers were long enough to cut the airflow to my lungs, leaving me breathless once again, as the tingly feeling in my core rose again.

At varying intervals, he took his fingers out of my throat and shoved them back down again, controlling the way I breathed and how much air I was allowed. My vision grew blurry and I started to perceive everything else more intensely and if he knew it, he let go of my hips, hugging it and pressing two fingers on my clit. He turned my head with his fingers in my mouth, forcing me to look at him, as he began to teasingly paint little circles on my most sensitive spot, grinning down at me like a predator. I began to spasm around his cock once again.

“Fuck… How I love this…” He murmured, his jaw clenching in determination. “The way your body reacts to me… How it twitched underneath me, no chance to avoid me. It makes me hard just thinking about that, but feeling it… That is so much better. And those very little moments are everything to me. Give me the uttermost satisfaction that I own you and all I have to do to have this pleasure is give one single command and you will kneel in front of me, ready to take what I give you.” He was visibly affected by his actions, sweat dripping from his forehead. His breathing was shallow and I wondered for a short moment, how he was still able to keep his pace and speak to me that powerfully.

I whimpered against his fingers in my mouth, bucking against his hips. “Take it easy, myril. I will guide you.” He whispered and I did. Letting go completely, I only focused on the feelings he made me feel. That hot ache in my stomach slowly spread through my body, taking hold of every string of my being. I clenched around his member, the air deprivation leaving its traces, causing him to momentarily lose the rhythm of his fingers.

Although his movements had lost their methodical rhythm, he was still able to hit my sweet spot and in conjunction with his fingers, that drove me further up the cliff to my orgasm. When he pulled back his fingers once more, I begged: “Please… Thranduil… I need to come. Please. I cant hold it anymore. Please let me come.” Without answering, he slowly pushed his fingers back down my throat, not letting his gaze slip away from my eyes. I was caught by his blue hues, pulled into his soul as he spoke to me with the softest of voices I had ever heard: “Now, meleth. Come now. One last time.”

I closed my eyes, letting the orgasm wash over my body. Whimpering and twitching I came undone again. I was completely drained, mentally as well as physically. Collapsing down onto the shelf, I wasn’t able to hold me up again, only his arm around my waist keeping me in place. With the last mental capacity, I felt him twitch inside of me, pouring his seed deep into my pussy, while he leaned over me, smothering my back and neck with gently little kisses. “Thank you, meleth. You did so well. Took me so so good.” He whispered into my ear, before he carefully pulled out and let me sink to the ground.

Then he picked me up, holding me close to his chest, while he walked towards the bathroom. “Lets get you cleaned up and relaxed one last time, before we leave for battle.”

I sat in front of Thranduil, securely wrapped inside his cloak on his elk Moose. We were riding through the ruins of Dale. The golden armor of the elven soldiers shining in the bright winter sun. Suddenly there was movement in one block, a slight rift being made for a darkhaired well looking man to step through. He eyed the elves around him carefully, making his way through the soldiers. Stopping in front of him, he looked at my husband: “My lord Thranduil. We did not look to see you here.”

“I heard you needed aid.” Thranduil said, pointing towards the wagon with food behind him. Quickly the hungry and traumatized faces around us lit up, making a ring around the food to get their fair share. I couldn’t help but feel horrible to see so many people in need, only able to imagine the horrors they must have faced. I jumped down from Moose, instantly regretting it, as the cold made its way through my thick robes. Climbing on the wagon myself, I started to give out food, much to the surprise of my people and Thranduils amusement.

“You have saved us. I do not know how to thank you.” I heard the dark haired man say. But my husband, the stiff man he was around others dismissed his gratitude rather quickly: “Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf. I came to reclaim something of mine. There are stones in that mountain that have been stolen from me.” With a nod of his head, he ordered his army to march towards the mountain, riding Moose with his people.

The other man ran behind my husband, calling out for him: “Wait. Please wait!” Thranduil did indeed stop, turning his head ever so slightly towards the human next to him. “You would go to war over a handful of gems?”

Without looking at him, Thranduil answered: “The heirlooms of my people are not likely forsaken.”

“We are allies in this.” The man pleaded, rougher this time. “My people also have a claim over the riches of this mountain. Let me speak with Thorin.” That made Thranduils head turn and even though I was not able to see his face, I knew the questioning look on his face far to well. “You would try to reason with the dwarf?”

“To avoid war? Yes.” Came the simple answer.

***

Some time later, I found myself in Thranduils tent, desperately wrapping his cloak around my shoulders to find at least some warmth against the cold air. Usually elves weren’t as affected by the cold than humans were, so my husband quickly gave me his robes when he saw me freezing. But I was an exception to that. My long life in Rivendell making me rather fragile against the cold. “Meleth.” Thranduil pleaded. “You should have stayed home.”

“And let you ride to war alone? Nonsense. I will grow accustom to this weather. I am an elf after all. This should not bother me to that extent it does.” I argued back, earning a low huff from my husband. Our discussion was quickly interrupted, before he could retort anything. Gandalf and the human man that I learned to be Bard stepping inside the tent.

“You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming. The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You are all in mortal danger!” Gandalf thundered through the tent, making me, Bard and even Thranduil flinch at his words. Bard stepped forward. “What are you talking about?”

“I can see you know nothing of wizards.” My husband rose from his seat. “They are like winter thunder on a wild wind, rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm.” He handed a goblet of wine to Bard and then to me, before he poured himself one as well. “But sometimes, a storm is just a storm.” He said, looking Gandalf straight into the eyes.

“Not this time.” The old wizard held against. “Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.”

“You should listen to him.” I threw in, watching my husband over the edge of my goblet. He sighed, walking closer to me. Bard suddenly snapped his head around, looking at me, as if he was only now realizing, I was in the tent as well. “And who are you?” He asked, a curious look on his face. “Clearly no elf. You are far to small. But you are not one of my people. I know them all by name.” I chuckled as his words, striking aside the high collar of my husbands cloak that hid my ears.

“I am an elf.” I answered holding out my hand. “Elanore. Thranduils wife.” Bard stared at me with wide eyes, bowing his head rather than taking my hand. “Your majesty. I am sorry. I did not know…” I interrupted him. “Fear not, my friend. How could you? I have never been to your lands, nor have you been to mine.” Taking my hand, Bard offered me a smile, that was soon disrupted, by Thranduil grabbing me and simply pulling me into his arms. “Why show his hand now?” My husband asked, turning back to Gandalf, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and arrogance.

“Because we forced him. We forced him, when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor.” Gandalf said, walking out of the tent, expecting us to follow him. “Azog the defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control over the mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies. Its strategic position.” We were now standing on a small platform, watching over the mountain. A harsh wind howling through the ruins around us. “This is the gateway of reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again… Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire. Even Gondor itself will fall.”

My face contorted in fear, thinking of Elrond and Arwen and all the other elves I once called my people. My husband was a bit better in keeping his face in check, but I knew from the look in his eyes that he was also very fearful of what was about to become. “This orc armies you are speaking off, Mithrandir. Where are they?” Gandalf just sighed deeply, his eyes giving answer enough.

***

“Since when has my council counted for so little? What do you think I am trying to do?” Gandalf and Thranduil where discussing for a while now and I had retreated to the fire of the tent, not really wanting to take part in it.

“I am thinking you are trying to save your dwarves friends. And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not persuade me from my course. You started this Mithrandir; you will forgive me if I finish it.” Then he walked out of the tent. “Are the archers in position?”

“Yes, my lord.” An elven commander stepped in front of my husband, who stood there rigid as ever. “Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain, kill it.” The Commander left in a hurry, Thranduil mumbling to himself: “The dwarves are out of time.”

“Herven!” I intervened. “You can not just kill them!” Rising from my seat next to the fire, I stepped towards him, but he was unmoving: “I can and I will. They have been offered help and a treaty. And still. They fled our borders, spat on my late wife, and insulted you in front of all my people. I will not have them disregard my warnings and not pay the prize for it.”

“You heard what Gandalf said! War is coming. We should stand together. Fight the army of orcs and then we can discuss the matter of those stones.” I pleaded, but to no avail. Thranduil simply scoffing, before he wanted to speak again.

But a little hobbit racing into the tent, interrupted him: “If you think, the dwarves will surrender, they wont. They will fight to the death to defend their own.”

Gandalfs eyes lit up: “Bilbo Baggins.”

But my husband just threw a look at the hobbit that would have scared the fiercest of men. “If I am not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.” Taking a seat, he signaled me to come over, propping me up on his lap. I watched, as Bilbo looked to the floor in a mixture of sheepish naivety and regret. “Yes…” He gritted out. “Sorry about that.” Bard and Gandalf wore a smile on their lips, and I could help myself but giggle.

“I came to give you this.” Bilbo said, stepping forward and opening up a leather package. Inside of it there was a stone of the size of a fist, sparkling and glowing by itself. Thranduil rose from his seat again, holding me close to him, as he inspected the offer in front of him. “The heart of the mountain. The kings jewel.”

Bard stepped next to him. “And worth a kings ransom. How is this yours to give?” He asked looking at Bilbo, who just shrugged as if it was not a big deal. “I took it as the 14th share of my treasure.”

“Why would you do this?” Bard pressed further. “You owe us no loyalty.”

“I am not doing it for you.” Bilbo shook his head. “I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pig headed and difficult. Suspicious and secretive with the worse manners you can possible imagine, but they are also brave, and kind and loyal to a fault. I have grown very fond of them and I would save them if I can. Now, Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you what you are owed. There would be no need for war.”

Thranduil and Bard looked at each other, a silent agreement being formed between the two men.

***

The next morning, I found myself on a horse, clothed in armor. My sword and bow weighing heavily on my body, as I stood besides Thranduil. Suddenly another army appeared behind us. Orders being yelled in Khuzdul. Thranduil quickly turned Moose around riding through the path that was created by his soldiers. I followed him as fast as I could. “Ribo i thangail!” He yelled, ordering them to form a second shield wall towards the back.

Immediately the army moved in their positions in unison, shielding itself against the outside. I was now next to my husband, facing the dwarf that came riding towards us on his war pig. “Ai, Thorin. Ironfoot has come.” He yelled out, waving his hammer above his head. “Good morning. How are we all?” The dwarf asked, stopping a bit away from us on the slope of the hill on top of a big stone. “I have a proposition, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider, just vanishing? All of you! Right now!”

“Stand fast!” Bard ordered his people that were standing between the elven lines.

“Come now, lord Dean.” Gandalf began, walking towards the dwarven Lord.

“Gandalf the grey…” He was greeted. “Tell this rubble to leave, or I will water the ground with their blood.” Gandalf did not stray from his path, angrily hitting his walking stick on the ground. “There is no need for war between dwarfs, men and elves. Aliened orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down.”

“I will not stand down before any elf.” Dean answered. “Certainly not before that faithless woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he choses to stand between me and my kin, I will split his pretty head open. See if he is still smirking then!” Turning around his pig, he rode back to his army and I couldn’t help myself but laugh. “You have to leave it to them. Their insults are quite the charmer.”

Thranduil just rolled his eyes, but I could see his lips twitch a bit. “Let them advance. See how far they get.” In the distance Dean turned on his pig: “You think I would give a dead dog for your threats, you pointy eared princess? I have heard how you prefer to fuck your wife rather than help my kin. You hear that, lads? We are on! Lets give these bastards a good hammering!” His army yelling war cries in Khuzul over the distance.

Thranduil signaled his army to march, riding towards Bard: “Stand your men down, I will deal with Ironfoot and his rubble.” Before us the dwarven army split a horde of goats riding to the front. “Prepare your bows!” Thranduil yelled, the elves drawing their weapons in unison. I as well aimed for the dwarves, even though I did not really want to fight them. But the goats came rushing towards us with full speed. “Shoot!” Came the order from my husband, and I let the first arrow fly through the air, followed by the many others of my people.

Dean yelled something in Khuzul and several rotating arrows made their way, slicing ours in the air and forcing us back when the hit the ground. “How do you like that, you old twidledy whirlies?”

And then the war began. The army sorted itself new, building a shield front behind which I steered my horse around, looking out for a better angle to shoot. But all of the sudden, the floor began to rumble in the distance. Everyone stopped their fights, turning to look at the hill. And what I saw made my blood freeze on the spot. Wereworms I thought to myself. Watching in fear as the big long tentacles burst through the grounds.

The orc horn ringing from the Ravenhill was signaling the arrival of Azog the defiler. “Come forth, my armies!” Azog yelled in the black speech. His words alone sending shivers down my spine. The dwarves immediately turned their back on us, facing the new enemy with great fierceness. I looked at my husband, who just staired at the hill in disbelief and I knew he was not able to give orders. “Pada godref! Dag i glam!” I yelled, riding with the dwarves as well. The elven army immediately started to move, racing after the dwarfs and the battle of the five armies began.

***

At the side of Thranduil we searched through the Ravenhill, turning every body to see, if it was Legolas. Suddenly he came walking around a corner, stopping when he saw us. But I couldn’t help myself. Racing towards him, I pulled the taller elf into a hug, forcing him to bend down to accommodate my arms. “Legolas!” I yelled out. “I was worried sick. I thought… I thought you were dead…” Crying into his shoulder I held him closely not wanting to let go of him. He patted my back awkwardly. “Its alright, naneth. I am alive. There is nothing you need to worry about.”

“Nothing I need to worry about?” I let go of him, smacking him across the head. “You left to accompany the dwarves. No letter, no warning nothing. And the next thing I hear is you scouting out Dol Guldur with Tauriel and fighting here against Borg. There is quite a lot I had to worry about! Speaking of Tauriel. Where even is she?”

That made Legolas look to the side and I feared the worse. “She is out on the platform.” Was all he said, before he walked passed me, slowing in front of his father. “I cannot go back. At least not for a while.” Thranduils shoulders tensed, the blue eyes filling with worry and regret: “Where will you go?”

Legolas stopped and turned back to look at us: “I do not know.”

“Go north. Find the Dunedain. There is a young ranger amongst them. You should meet him. His father Arathorn was a good man, his son might grow to be a great one.” My husband turned, reaching out for my hand, pulling me to his side as comfort. Legolas smiled sadly while looking at us, before he averted his gaze: “What is his name?”

“He is known in the wild as strider. His true name, you must discover for yourself.” Watching as Legolas walked away, I nudged my husband, who immediately got the hint. “Legolas, you mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life.” Stiffly bowing towards his son, he nearly missed the outreached hand of Legolas. I shoved my husband closer, making the two man shake hands, before Thranduil pulled his son in for a hug. “Come back to us when you are ready.” He whispered and I could hear the pain in his voice.

“I will. But not in the near future. Tauriel… I… I need distance.” Legolas answered, before he let go of his father, looking me in the eyes. “Thank you, naneth. Take care of him.”

“I will.” Was all I could press out, before the tears overtook my body, springing from my eyes in silent pain. Thranduil bowed his head, his eyes also filled with tears, but he held them back, hiding his face in my hair, hugging me closely. We cherished each others comfort for a while, before my hearing picked up the faint sobs of a female.

“Tauriel.” I murmured, stepping out of my husbands arms and following the noises. Thranduil was hot on my heels and soon we stumbled upon Tauriel, sitting besides one of the dwarves that were captured by us some time ago. “I want to burry him.” She said, her voice laced with pain and anger.

“Yes.” Thranduil answered her request, lowering his head.

“If this is love, I do not want it.” Tauriel whispered, looking up at my husband with the uttermost pain in her eyes. “Take it from me. Please. Why does it hurt so much?”

Approaching her slowly, Thranduil bowed his head, his voice a soft tenor, trying his best to soothe her pain: “Because it was real.”

That made her head rise again, her expression changing from painful to confusion, to realization and back to pain again. She bent down, pressing her lips on the dead dwarf, before a sad smile crossed her face, sniffling away the tears. Not really knowing what to do, I stayed in the background, watching as my husband knelt down beside her, offering to carry the dwarf down himself.

Weeks later, after the ranks of dwarfs, elves and humans slowly started to find back into their normal life’s, a letter from Elrond reached me and Thranduil. His daughters 2743th birthday was coming up. Lord Elrond had invited us to not only celebrate his daughter but also the reclaiming of Erebor. He even invited those of the fellowship, that survived the battle.

It was the first blossom of spring breaking over Rivendell, so I gladly took the opportunity to dress down on the layers of fabrics I had to wear over the course of winter. Much to the joy of my husband as it seems, because he had a special dress made for me. Another see-through silken dress, this time with a dark green touch to it. For the human and dwarven eye, it might seem modest, but I knew that elven eyes would be very aware of the transparent fabric. It had a deep plunge neckline as always only held in place by a corset, the skirt fanning out in many single trains overlapping to keep me covered but to allow easy access.

Knowing full well that my husband not only picked this dress with a purpose for his own pleasure, but to also show off what he possessed, I wore the dress with pride. It was a silently accepted fact, that neither him nor I were exactly private about our relationship and the course it had taken. Nobody talked about it, but everyone gossiped.

When it was time for the feast to start, Thranduil guided me down the paths of Rivendell. We had arrived the day prior to get accustomed to the new realm and that I could get ready in peace for the great day. I hated being stressed, especially when it came to taking care of my looks. Lord Elrond and his daughter were already to be found at the great clearing where the feast was to be held, and I stepped out of my husbands arm, to greet them.

Hugging both of them, I linked my arm under Arwen to take her on a walk, wanting to catch up on that whole Aragorn thing that was going on in her life. “Soooo, tell me. What's it with Arathorns son that has your father write me letter after letter?”

“My father writes you letters over something this unimportant?” She gasped and I shrugged. “I am his cousin and married to the elven king. It was probably his last resort to ask me out of all.”

“Oh yeah, with your reputation no doubt.” Nudging me slightly, she giggled at her words. Scoffing with a fake hurt expression on my face, I clasped a hand in front of my chest. “My reputation? I sure hope it is only the best.”

“Absolutely. There is only good word about the kings whore that spreads the realms.” Arwen kept on teasing and I stayed in my fake offended persona, calling out for my husband who was only at the end of the long table: “Herven?” He instantly snapped his head around, giving me a soft smile: “Yes, my starlight?”

“Have you heard that I am apparently called the kings whore in these lands?” Letting my eyes convey the jest I put up, he caught it fairly quickly, puffing his chest a bit. “No, I have not. Show me those wicked, that dare to speak ill of my wife. I will have Feren see to them as soon as he is back.”

Seeing all the other elves stare at us in a mixture of disbelieve and slight fear, I had to fight hard to suppress my laugh. I knew that not many believed the king to be a jester himself, so I could only imagine the worry that must run through their veins, seeing him so openly speak a threat. But seeing that Lord Elrond scowled at me, I decided to reveal my bluff, giggling like a child. “I love you, herven. For what you are and thrive to be.” Thranduil knew I was trying to ease the tension, but of course he had to set another stone to the grave: “Your love only fuels my need to protect you from all harm. For as I have promised to cherish and take care of you for all eternity.”

His confession of love, made my giggle subside into a soft smile and I couldn’t help but stand in utter awe of him so openly speak about it. He wasn’t a man to show his emotions that openly through words, but it seemed that the interaction with Tauriel after seeing her in absolute grief over Kili must have made him realize that his previous action had cause much harm to many. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see all of the surrounding servants and early guests stare at us, some even talking behind their hands. But my absolute focus laid upon my husband.

It wasn’t until now, that I realized he had come closer, drawing me in by my hips. “You are the best thing in my life, bereth. Never forget that. I don’t care what others might say, to me, you are the queen I worship.” That’s when he simply bend down, letting his hands rest on my lower back and waist, to kiss me. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it also was far away from a chastise peck on the lips. Only Lord Elrond clearing his throat got us to part again, a slight blush creeping up my cheeks. But Thranduil just proudly wrapped his arm around me.

***

The afternoon changed into the evening and after dinner was served, Lord Elronds servant had the clearing freed from the tables to enable dancing and simple talks and walks through the realm. I found myself wrapped into my husbands arms once again, relishing in his warmth as the spring wind seemed to have dropped a bit in temperature. “Are you cold, meleth?” He asked me, cuddling his head into my neck giving me hot little bites along my collarbone.

Turning in his arms, I took his face into my hands. “Not when you are with me, herven.” I gave him a peck to the lips, which made him smile softly. He tasted like elven wine. Heavy with sweet berries, a flowery note to it. But my body shivering with another breeze, made him sigh. “Feren.” He called out. “Could you please bring my cloak for my wife to warm up?”

“Of course, my king.” Feren answered in his usual soft tone. Moments later he came back with the heavy silver cloak, holding it out for me to slip into, but Thranduil had other plans. Taking it from his servant, he wrapped it around his shoulder and then pulled my back against his chest, closing his arms and the cloak around us. “That’s much better.” He whispered into my ear and I could feel him press me against his crotch.

He was hard, pressing his cock against my lower back. “Are you perhaps drunk, herven?” I asked, letting my hips innocently stroke over his hard member, when I leaned forward, freeing my hand under his cloak to reach for my goblet of wine. Thranduil growled silently behind me, the grip on my hips growing harder. “Of course not. My senses are very clear, meleth.”

“Is that so?” I teased, guiding one hand of his up to my chest underneath his cloak. Still watching the other elves dance freely, I slowly emptied my goblet, letting my husband grope me underneath our cover. The longer I took, the bolder he got, letting his fingers wander underneath my dress and between my legs. “You are not wearing anything else.” He silently stated, one finger pushing itself between my folds. I just emptied my goblet in one last gulp, stepping out of his hold and turning around. “Dance with me, herven.”

I could see his jaw tighten, as he took a deep breath taking a moment to take of his cloak and handing it to Feren. My eyes quickly snapped down to his crotch, seeing that he had sorted himself out, but for anyone looking longer than just a brief wandering gaze would see, that his manhood wasn’t that subtly longing for me.

He was quick to close the distance between us, holding me close to his body when he led us over the dance floor. “You are playing a dangerous game, ithil.” He threatened close to my ear, gently biting my ear lobe. I suppressed a moan, but my voice betrayed my played confidence: “I do? How would you come to that conclusion?”

“The way your eyes are literally undressing me, that ass pressed against me and maybe even the wetness I have already felt between your legs.” Thranduil whispered, forcing his knee between my legs. The music has switched from an uplifting song to a more sensual, intimate one, probably played to coax more couples onto the dance floor. But when my eyes met Arwen who was standing besides Lindir, giving me a thumbs up, I knew she had watched me and Thranduil.

Knowing full well, that she was testing my self-control with this song, I decided to give in to her challenge, letting myself fall even more into the arms of Thranduil. He didn’t seem to have noticed Arwen being responsible for my change in demeanor, but based on his hands wandering from the modest position on my shoulder blade down to my hips, I knew he had gotten my subtle hint to make this dance much spicier.

He not only guided me over the dance floor, but also made our bodies connect in the most sensual way possible, sparking my longing for him more and more. His eyes were trained on my face, eyes cockily challenging my control. A soft sigh left my lips, as he once again whirled me around, letting my core slide down his thigh, when he turned me outwards. “Please.” Was all I said once we were close again and he immediately stopped the dance, literally dragging me from the dance floor. Passing Feren, he grabbed his cloak from his servant. “I will take a hold of that for a while.” Then he just yanked me along, not caring about the many irritated looks we collected on our way out.

We made it down several paths, until we found ourselves beneath the festivities and on the edge of a small collection of trees. Thranduil let go of me, caging me in between a tree and his chest. “I need you.” His voice was coarse, just slightly above a snarl. His demeanor was harsh, the king in him breaking through. “I need you to obey me, meleth. Need you to be my little girl.”

I sank on my knees before him, nestling with his belt. “Let me take care of you.” I whispered, while I pushed down his pants and underwear. His cock was hard and dripping with precum. I wasted no time, taking him into my mouth. And as soon as he sank down my warm throat Thranduils head fell back. Steadying himself on the tree behind me, he loomed over me. A total mess; hair disarranged, eyes closed, lips hanging open.

Slowly I began to move my head up and down, as I watched him through my eyelashes. I wanted him to become agitated. Teasing him with my tongue dancing around his tip. His head fell back, an animalistic moan on his lips. He grabbed me by my hair, immobilizing my head and pulling back. With a sweet pop his member plopped out of my mouth. “Meleth… Please. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” I asked innocently.

“Like a vixen. I can barely control myself. And if you keep looking at me like that, I will lose it completely.”

“Then don’t. Take me. Control me. Make me yours. I am willing to give you everything I have.” The way he clenched his jaw, desperately holding on to the last bit of control he had over his mind, made me feel things I never imagined to feel. My whole body felt like it was set on fire, slowly burning its way to my middle, soaking me with my arousal.

Another growl ripped through his chest as he pushed his cock down my throat. I gagged as he forced himself down. Quickly I relaxed my throat. Drool started to drip down my chin, mixing with tears running from my eyes. Again and again, I choked on his size, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was him taking me as he liked it, as he needed me.

“Your mouth feels so good, my little starlight.” He moaned. I hummed with pleasure. His movements were strong, leaving me little room to breathe, but the heavenly feeling of his cock laying heavy on my tongue suppressed everything.

“Oh god, Elanore…” His grip on my hair grew stronger and I could feel him twitch in my mouth. I let my tongue dance around his shaft and tip, sucking in my cheeks to create more friction. I wanted to taste him, feel his hot seeds trickle down my throat.

His thrusts became irregular and he sucked in a sharp breath. I could see him holding back, waiting for my consent, which I eagerly gave him by nodding as much as he would let me. Again, I felt his member twitch rhythmically as he painted my throat with his seed. I swallowed all of it, without letting my eyes go of his, devotedly licking his member clean.

“Fuck…” He breathed out, carefully pulling me back by my hair. I just smiled at him, seductively wiping my lips with my thumb. “I love the way you get, when you are a little drunk.” I confessed, snuggling into his hand, that was still holding my head. He raised an eyebrow: “What do you mean?” Shrugging I got up from my knees. “You become much needier, openly showing how much you want me.”

“Do I not show my desire enough?” He asked, while putting his pants back on and I could see the tease in his eyes.

“You do.” I scoffed. “I just like both sides on you. The controlled and calculating and the soft and longing one. It just depends on the mood I am in.”

“And what mood are you in right now?” Studying my face intently, he grinned down on me. Winking at him, I stepped under his arm, bringing some distance between us. “One I want to be conquered in.” He got the hint, putting his cloak on the floor, spreading it out for me. Then he prowled around it, fixating me with his eyes. “I will see to ease your desire then.” Without giving any hint beforehand, he pounced at me, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye.

With an ease, I wasn’t prepared for, he simply hoisted me over his shoulder, giving my ass a slap, before he carried me back to his cloak. Handling me roughly to be positioned beneath him. Then he started to slowly open the buttons of my corset one by one, kissing the skin he freed with every hook that came undone.

“I need you, herven.” I mewled, desperately wriggling underneath him, but he just ignored my pleads, keeping his slow pace of undressing me. Once he had opened my corset, he put it aside, to then mind meltingly slow push down each sleeve of my dress, until I could slip out. Now my upper body was freed for him and his lips immediately sank down on one nipple, sucking on it until it grew hard in his mouth. I moaned at the little relief it brought me, desperate for more. Playing with my other nipple with his fingers, he teased me, until I was sure to lose my mind. “Herven…” I pleaded, but he just rose from my chest. “Yes, my little starlight?”

“More.” I whimpered. “I need more.” But he just shook his head. “No, we will take it slow today. I want to savor you.” Kneeling back on his ankles, he started to undress himself, taking his time, while he watched me wriggle on the ground. Only when he had taken off all of his clothes, did he lean over me again. I couldn’t hold it back anymore, wrapping my legs around his hips, I pulled him in. “Stop playing with me and fuck me already.” But he was unmoving like a mountain.

“Beg.” Was all he said, the smile still plastered over his features. My eyes widened in shock. He wouldn’t dare to make me beg for him to fuck me, while we were in the open like this. Any moment someone could stumble upon us, but it seemed like Thranduil did not care one bit: “Beg, or I am stopping it right now.” He repeated, the tone in his voice now sharper, smile changing from cocky to arrogant. I shook my head, feeling the blush creep over my chest and cheeks. “Don’t make me do this…” I whispered.

“Do what?” He asked innocently.

“Herven, please… they are able to hear us.” Still whispering.

“They will hear whole other things coming out of that pretty mouth of yours once I am starting to have my fun with you. So go on, be a good girl and beg your king to fuck you properly.”

The sheer confidence he had, saying those filthy things, made my head reel in desire for him, but I decided to lean a bit further in his game. “Make me.” Those two words were his nemesis and I knew it. I knew that the moment I spoke those words would be the moment he would lose it. And I was right. The smile vanished from his lips in a split second.

Grabbing me under my right knee he flipped me over, pressing me down with as much force as he could muster to not hurt me. Now I had him where I wanted him to be, pushed into the ruthless commanding side of him. My core was throbbing in willing anticipation, sleek being spread all over my thighs. Forcefully, Thranduil pressed my legs apart, kneeling between them. One hand wrapped in my hair, turning my head to the side, while the other held his weight not to crush me. “You wanna play this game? You want me to stop being nice and treat you like a slut?” His voice was raspy, audibly running on the last string holding him together.

“Yes, please.” I moaned, spreading my legs even further and raising my ass up in the air. He let out a rough chuckle, seeing me melt in his hands like butter. “Look at that. All it took was a little force and you are behaving like a bitch in heat. Tell me meleth, do you think you deserve to be fucked like a good girl?” I tried to nod, earning a slight tug on my hair. “Words, little girl.”

“Please.” Was all I could whine, desperately trying to get some release.

“Again.” He rasped.

“Please, Herven. Fuck me. I need you, please.” I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded.

“Finally.” He whispered. “You are begging. Sometimes I wonder if you are putting up this act just to rile me up further. Be honest, is that true, bereth?”

“Hmm.” I hummed, not really caring about his words.

A deep sight came rumbling from his chest. “Do you even know what you do to me?” He asked, pressing a wet kiss on my shoulder. “The hold you have on me is bordering on insanity. I should be the responsible one, taking care of you. And yet here I am, pinning you down on the forest floor, desperately fighting to keep control over myself.” After a short pause he gained his stance back. “And I am the only one who gets to have you. This is all mine. My good little girl.” By the end his voice once again turned into a deep growl, fed by the jealousy of other men looking at me.

Stroking his cock through my folds, he teased me again. Forcing me to be this whining mess underneath him. Lining himself up with my entrance he slowly pushed into me, careful not to hurt me, since he didn’t prepare me before. But I was so riled up by him, that he had nearly no resistance gliding into me. When he bottomed me out, he let out a low groan.

Then he finally started to move. Rolling his hips forward and pressing me down even further. I let out a delighted hum, closing my eyes and gripping the cloak underneath my head harder. “Fuck…” He hissed above me, intertwining one hand again with my hair, while the other stayed pressed against the floor. “Look at me, bereth nin. Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” Following his command, I opened my eyes. Getting locked up in his deep blue eyes, now nearly blown black from lust.

Slowly he picked up the speed, not letting go of me. He was now hitting my sweet spot deep inside me at a steady rhythmical pace, that I let out another suppressed moan. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you. Show me how good I make you feel.” Once again, his whole demeanor shifted. Had he been rough and commanding just a second ago, he was now as soft and loving as he could be. Letting go of my hair, he started to caress and stroke my body with feather light brushes. Just ever so slightly that it had me yearning for more.

The way his movements, his thrusts and touches played with my body was pure bliss. I was riding on a hot wave of love and lust toward my abyss. “Oh please…” A loud moan forced itself past my lips, much to the pleasure of Thranduil. He liked, when I was severely reacting to him, always making sure to pull as much pleasure out of me as my body could handle.

He started humming, bending down to kiss me. His lips were hot and hard against mine, still showing that he was indeed holding back for me. Giving me this lovely start. But underneath his well-kept attitude I could feel the need to possess me starting to boil. Him openly holding himself back, to fully commit to my pleasure, send so much love and lust through my body.

The knot in my stomach started to grow immeasurably. This mixed with Thranduil treating my so softly, pushed my emotionally agitated self over the edge. With tears running down my cheeks, I called out for him, now finally not caring about who might be able to hear us. He answered my call with letting go of my head. Only to then bury me underneath him, while pressing down my hands with his bigger ones. “Its alright, starlight. I am right here. You can let go.” He whispered against my ear. “You are doing so good. Such a good little girl. Taking me so well, so obedient. Go on. Come for me. Make a mess on my cock, I know you want to.”

A loud cry on my lips, I came hard. The wall of my orgasm hitting me with pure force. Dragging me over the cliff without any resistance. I was now in a free fall of blissfulness. Slipping in and out of reality, only being grounded by Thranduils low, raspy voice praising me. Bucking against his body I shakily came back to senses, to then get my breath knocked out of my lungs by his hungry kiss. He slowed his movements, letting me regain my stance, giving me a chance of further consent or to stop him from moving on. That’s what has struck me deeply about him from the beginning. No matter what, he was always focused on me giving my consent, to never step over any barrier I had.

“You can let go, herven. Its okey. You wont break me.” I said, my voice still shaky from my orgasm. Pushing the hair out of my eyes, he asked: “Are you sure about that? You don’t have to...” I interrupted him, before he could get caught up in his thoughts too much: “Yes, I am sure. I can feel how you want to go rough with me. Take me. Make me feel good. Make me yours.”

Instantly changing his demeanor, he pushed himself up, effectively pulling me to my knees as well. Then he leaned over me, pressing my face into towards the ground. “I want to hear you. Don’t you dare hold back, understood?” His voice didn’t let any room for discussion, so I obediently answered: “Yes, my king.”

“Good girl.” He rasped, wrapping my hair around his hand to get a better hold of me. Then he picked up a ruthless pace, forcing me to help steady myself with my arms spread out on the floor.

His fast pace had me forget any dignity that might have been left inside my body. Hitting my sweet spot with every thrust, now stretching me deeper than before, had me yelping and moaning out in pure pleasure. The lush sounds he was drawing from my body, mixed with my heavy breathing and his low groans. I could feel my juices from my previous orgasm running down my thigh, getting smeared around with every of his moves.

This right now was far away from the soft, sweet way he had thrusted into me before. He was now railing me without mercy, using me to his full pleasure. But that’s exactly how I wanted him to treat me. As an answer to his behavior, I twitched around his cock, implying my next upcoming orgasm. He pulled me up by my hair to his chest. “You ask before you come, you hear me?” He growled into my ear. Voice strained in sharp control over his inner needs.

“Yes.” I whimpered, not thinking about the consequences of not addressing him with his title.

“Yes what?” He snarled, shoving me down. A sharp slap on my left butt cheek, had me yelp out in pain, but that only seemed to spur him on further. “Answer me!” Another slap followed onto the right side of by behind.

“Yes, my king.” I cried out, again tears pricking in my eyes.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Don’t you dare forget my title, whore.”

“I am sorry, my king. Please…” I begged, squeezing him with my throbbing pussy, not daring to speak the words to beg for another orgasm.

“As you should be. Does a good girl disobey her king?” He pressed on further.

“No, my king. Please. I am close… I cant…” My cries were getting more and more desperate. I couldn’t hold back for much longer, silently praying he would release me. But it was Thranduil we were speaking about. The king of sass and teasing.

“Then what makes you think you get to have another orgasm? Havent I already given you enough? And yet here you are, begging to give you a second one.” I could hear the pure pride of having me at his mercy. It was what got him off the best.

“Please, herven. I cant… I am too close. Let me come, please my king.” I squealed, holding myself together by nothing more than a thread and pure willpower. Luckily, he knew how close I was, because he pulled me up against his chest again. Wrapping his warm arms around my body. “Come, pin iell. Let go for me.”

And that I did. Relaxing into his hold, I let the second wave hit me with all the force and turbulences it brought with it. Far away I could hear myself, moan or much more cry out his name, clawing my fingers to his arms, to gain at least some stability. Only a few moments later, I could feel his cock twitch against the shuddering walls of my core. Spilling his hot seed deep inside of me.

With a deep growl, Thranduil sunk onto the ground, burying me underneath him. I could feel him pressing me down, but luckily, he had enough senses left to support his weight to not crush me. We stayed like this for a few minutes. Dwelling in the existence of one another, before he slowly pulled out. I hissed at this movement, because it now made me painfully aware of the roughness, he had fucked me with. Great, now I wouldn’t be able to walk properly for a few hours if not days…

Carefully he helped me back into my dress, cleaning me as good as he could with a hanker chief, before he took care of himself. When we were dressed again, I tried to sort my hair, him immediately helping to redo my braids. After he had deemed me presentable again, he wrapped his cloak around me, protecting me from the cold that had only now hit my senses again. Slowly we walked back to the festivities, me trying my best to get my stability back and him making sure I would make it back in one piece.

When we had reached the clearing again, I could feel several eyes rake over us, inspecting our appearance in great detail. Lord Elrond stood there, only a few steps away from us. And the look on his face spoke more than I wanted it to be. Scolding both of us with his eyes, he didn’t even walk over to us, when he spoke. It would have been pointless anyways, as it seemed, everyone knew what had happened.

“I know you both are very… indulging in each other. But was there really no other way as to do it in public? This close? Everyone was able to hear her.” Lord Elrond, breathed out, the anger visible on his features. I was averting my gaze, not having the strength to stand up against him. My husband however stepped forward, shielding me with his body. “Oh, did we get heard? What a shame. My apologies.” He said, a fake gasp to his words and I knew that he was wearing the most sarcastic smile on his lips.

Lord Elrond just stuttered, not even caring to address Thranduil by his title anymore: “Thranduil… By Valar I swear…” But he didn’t get any further, my husband interrupting him once again: “There is nothing to worry about anymore. I doubt my wife would be able to handle a second round.” And with that being said, he pulled me over the clearing and towards a small table at the side. Everyone was staring at us and I should have felt embarrassed, but the simple way my husband had turned the accusation around, making it seem as if it was the most normal thing to happen, made me feel way better. And in a way, a great wave of pride washed over me, knowing that Thranduil had just made everyone question their sanity.

#fem reader #smut #slight battle describtions #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil smut #lotr #the hobbit

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 10 months ago

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OH LAWD I WOULD DIE FOR SHENHE AND SARA

Could you do some headcannons about their S/O being overly sweet towards them? Imagine them getting Shenhe tons of gifts and hugging her like a Koala holding onto a tree. Or Sara’s S/O straight up pulling out their archery skills just to get her attention and try their hardest to break her “professional” behaviour just to see her blush. GAAAA JUST IMAGINING THEM SOUNDS SO CUTE!

(Genshin Impact) Shenhe and Sara's S/O being overly affectionate

THE GAP MOE IS REAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL

Shenhe had not received any kind of physical affection in a very long time.

It's not as if she did not have anyone caring for her, Cloud Retainer and the Traveler certainly did.

But the love S/O gave to her could not be compared to anything in her life.

At first, S/O wanted to gift her many things, but since she didn't really have a house, she had to decline many of their bigger gifts.

Instead, she kept smaller items like a necklace adorned with a beautiful light blue gem in the middle, resembling her vision.

And her body did not budge whenever S/O hugged her with full force, though that was due to her being extremely strong.

(Shenhe) "I wish to return your affection wholeheartedly, S/O, but I cannot."

S/O looked at Shenhe curiously, their smile still wide.

(S/O) "Why?"

(Shenhe) "I don't think your body could withstand it."

(S/O) "Oh come on, we can try!"

Shenhe then complied.

S/O was out of breath for nearly half an hour.

Regardless, it was something they did not regret.

Whether it was hugging, kissing, giving gifts, S/O loved to figuratively (And sometimes literally) smother her in any type of love.

Shenhe's face mostly remained unchanged, but her heart seemed to race everytime she felt them in her arms.

There were many times when they shared a bed, S/O would just hold onto her, arms and legs trapping her in place.

It felt strange, but Shenhe did not mind.

If S/O was safe and happy, then she was as well.

===

S/O and Shenhe had gotten a fair distance away from Liyue Harbor. Not too far in case if trouble followed them and civilization was too far, but they could be left alone in the confines of nature comfortably.

Something Shenhe appreciated. She could simply enjoy S/O all to herself. They were planning to camp out together, if only just for a little bit.

She felt their hands wrap around hers, eagerly standing closer as they moved closer to put their head on her chest.

Shenhe made no sound, but S/O could tell that she was at ease. The way her shoulders slumped, eyebrows raised, and the faintest dusting of pink rose to her cheeks.

(S/O) "I'm really happy I get to spend the next few days with you, Shenhe!"

(Shenhe) "I am as well. But-"

Shenhe slowly stepped back, making sure her hands were still holding S/O. She tilted her head and asked S/O with her tone of voice lightly hinted with concern.

S/O took a moment to think about their answer while Shenhe continued.

(Shenhe) "The mountains can get quite cold at night as well."

(S/O) "That's what you're here for!"

S/O lovingly stood closer, and nuzzled their head onto her shoulders.

(S/O) "I'll be fine to sleep anywhere as long as you're with me, Shenhe. Besides, I packed a tent and everything we need!...Well, that I need."

Shenhe nodded and sat down, her hand still tightly gripping S/O as they sat with her on the grass. S/O began cuddling onto her, both of them silently watching the clouds above slowly drift away.

Her heart throbbed when she felt their hand wrap around her waist, though it was not out of pain as she quickly learned in the beginning of their relationship.

In truth, Sara is quite easy to fluster, whether it be from teasing or affection.

Unfortunately for her, S/O provided much of both.

Sara did prefer to keep their relationship private for both the sake of her pride and for their personal safety, which S/O thankfully mostly complied with.

But whenever it was just the two of them, S/O would hold nothing back.

(S/O) "Sara!"

S/O almost tackled her in a hug, if she weren't prepared then they would have both fallen over.

But, it was something Sara secretly found endearing. S/O would not get to hear that however, lest they somehow get even more lovey-dovey.

(Sara) "It's nice to see you too, S/O."

She gave them a firm hug back before gently pushing them back.

(S/O) "I can make you some Onigiri, go ahead and sit down!"

Never once in her life did Sara think she would walk into such a loving home after days of work.

But Sara was happy to have S/O provide her the love she never knew she wanted.

===

Sara sighed as S/O happily held her hand to a nearby food stand.

The vendor in question seemed shocked at S/O holding the hands of the General of the Tenryou Commission so casually, while Sara had to avert meeting their gaze. of confusion.

(S/O) "One stick of dango, please!"

As the vendor nodded, the memories of how this even happened came rushing back to her head.

...

(S/O) "Sara, if I can hit this bullseye, you have to go on a date with me in the city!" Sara raised her eyebrow at S/O's sudden challenge. They had a bow and a single arrow in their hands, pointing a crudely made training dummy with layers of circles on its chest. (Sara) "Where is this coming from, S/O?" (S/O) "Kind of a mix of things, honestly. One: I just want to impress you. And two: I want to treat you to something nice, but you won't let me!" Sara chuckled, rather too confidently if S/O were to add. (Sara) "While I do appreciate the thought, you have no need to do so-." (S/O) "I have every need to do so if I get to see you blush and have that cute frown!" Well, they were already doing that. Rather effectively too. (Sara) "Alright, I accept your challenge." Sara crossed her arms as she stood behind S/O. Their arms were wobbling at the strength, but she could tell they were trying to mimic the way she drew her bow. (Sara) "Hm, I doubt they're going to-" Before she could even finish, S/O let the arrow go and she watched, much to her horror, the arrow pierce the center circle. (S/O) "HAHA! I DID IT!" They turned towards her, a star gleaming in their eye. (S/O) "Let's get some dango together!" (Sara) "I-In the city?" (S/O) "Where else, silly?" Sara opened her mouth to protest, but she did make a promise after all. That was on her for underestimating the lengths S/O would go to spoil her. And there was also that smile of theirs that made her mind haze...

...

Sara sighed as she walked away from the vendor, noting that people were beginning to stare.

Before moving to walk away from the open sight of the streets, she turned to S/O, scratching the side of her head in a nervous tick.

(S/O) "I know I am!"

S/O punctuated with a big grin, before thankfully, leading Sara away from prying eyes.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #shenhe x reader #shenhe genshin impact #kujou sara x reader #kujou sara #shenhe x y/n #kujou sara x y/n

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pookalicious-hq · 6 months ago

Text

endgame || pt. 2 to tolerate it

caitlin clark x reader (previous paige bueckers x reader) || previous: tolerate it || masterlist

notes: fluff, lmk if you guys want more caitlin stuff!! sorry for taking so long lmao, hope you like it <3

now playing: endgame by taylor swift

Endless streams of black silk flowed along her arms, down the small of her back, the weightless tule pooling at her feet. Gems stitched across the expanse caught sight of the flashing glares, absorbing the endless bursts of light.

(Y/n) had been positioned at the beginning of the velvety carpet, the expanse of red spreading to the entrance of the 2024 WNBA draft.

With her smiles, she carried along her reputation. She held the weight of tonight's unknown outcomes atop her head, her chin never wavering. Soon, (Y/n) would take the first leap, discarding everything and everyone who dared to trap her in the past.

Luckily, she wouldn’t be alone.

“Caitlin! (Y/n)! To your left here, please!”

The two girls moved together in unison at the request. An arm clad in white made its way around (Y/n)’s waist, finding solace in the familiar position. Soft smiles were placed upon their features. Their presence swallowed the venue whole, demanding attention.

Before, (Y/n) would’ve shied away from the sudden spotlight. She had been taught that seeking attention was greed, and only those who deserved it received it.

Now, she learned from someone else.

She met a girl whose love contrasted with anything she’d ever learnt before. Every word the girl spoke had been dipped in nectar. Apologizes were sent along with flowers and warmth, there wouldn’t be room for doubt anymore.

Ever since that night, days with Caitlin moulded into months. Savoured kisses were hidden behind curtains, bodies tangled beneath soft sheets.

Anyone would assume they had been cut from the same cloth given their natural lines that effortlessly fit together.

Now here they stood. After a lengthy conversation, the two eventually decided to make their first appearance together.

Another thing Caitlin had drilled into (Y/n)’s mind; never change who you are.

They addressed no comments towards their relationship. Only offering welcoming replies, carefully steering from the unsaid questions that plagued everyone’s mind: what were (Y/n) and Caitlin to each other?

If they had real answer, they would’ve told any who asked. But, unfortunately that was still a question left unanswered between the two girls.

Of course, they were friends. They had been friends ever since playing on the same team in seventh grade. They were friends who had shared each other’s first kiss. They were friends ever since they knew what it meant to want the princess, not the prince.

Being friends was the safest option. They both lead a busy life. There wasn’t much they could do together but send a ‘happy birthday <3’ text when they lived (about) 1000 miles away.

Though, together now, there still lied this unanswered question.

“Did I mention you look gorgeous, love?”

Caitlin’s soft murmur travelled across the expanse of (Y/n)’s neck, the sensation sparking warmth throughout her body. She swept her gaze upwards towards the brunette, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) laughed, “like, three times already. You’re so dumb, Cait.”

Her last words were laced with love, of course, Caitlin knew what she was doing. After her comment, (Y/n) stepped out of Caitlin’s reach, continuing her path down the carpet. The brunette’s gaze trailed behind the deep cut of her black gown, she was never out of Caitlin’s sight.

It was a given that they would be separated tonight. Even before their arrival together, they had been the main topic of the night. Everyone wanted to talk to the all-time NCAA leading scorer from Iowa just as equally as they wanted to talk to the March Madness MVP from South Carolina.

Flash

“Please stand here for an interview, miss.”

“(Y/n), who are you wearing tonight?”

“Caitlin, how are you feeling?”

“Please sign my jersey, I love you guys so much!”

Every comment, instruction and praise was met with the genuine smile that places itself on her features. Her gown flowed along the carpet as she made her way towards her third interview of the night. However, her steady gait soon faltered as her gaze found an unexpected variable in her path. The shock rippled through her, momentarily freezing her in place. It had been months since they last spoke, since they last exchanged words that weren't filled with bitterness and hurt.

Paige's presence hit (Y/n) like a sudden gust of wind, stirring up memories that she had buried deep within herself. She remembered the laughter they’d shared, the late-night conversations, the warmth of Paige's embrace. Unfortunately, alongside those memories came the pain of their parting, the arguments, the tears, the lingering sense of resentment.

But, despite those average thoughts that came up on the topic of Paige, (Y/n) now felt something additional, something different.

As she stood there, her gaze briefly catching Paige's figure in the crowd, a wave of indifference washed over her. It wasn't that (Y/n) harboured any ill will towards Paige—far from it. (Sure, if Paige tripped and fell in that moment she would laugh at her pain, but no one would know that.) She had long since disregarded her for the actions of the past. But forgiveness didn't equate to a desire to rekindle what once was.

Paige Bueckers had exited her life. Whether anyone else thought differently, it didn’t matter.

Her performance over her college years had granted her a seat at the table.

Well, her own table.

She stood atop the stage among teammates and competitors she’d met over the years. The only difference this moment held, they would all be happy for each other no matter the outcome. Every player here had earned this moment.

And no one would doubt that (Y/n) and Caitlin deserved this moment.

Hard work leads to rewards.

But, hard work and raw talent lead to a spotlight reserved for the best.

The line defining the two is a delicate balance, one that is forced to put both against each other. Nevertheless, what the media depicts as a head-to-head is never the true case.

Throughout their careers, Caitlin and (Y/n) had unwillingly been placed on opposite sides of a scale. What others perceived as a rivalry, the two girls simply considered their competitive nature. Nevertheless, they found no reason to acknowledge the headlines.

Who would be granted the championship?

Who would the title of MVP belong to?

Who would win?

On that significant night, (Y/n) and Caitlin painted a masterpiece of determination and skill. As the clock dwindled to its final seconds, Caitlin conceded—it was (Y/n)'s turn to shine. And shine she did, her brilliance lighting up the court with a mesmerizing career high of 39 points.

South Carolina roared with triumph, claiming the championship banner, while (Y/n) (L/n) ascended to MVP status. Amidst the cacophony of celebration, whispers of debate lingered, but for most, there was no denying—she had earned her crown.

Now, on this electric draft night, (Y/n) waded through a sea of flashing lights and eager faces, her senses alive with anticipation. The air crackled with anticipation, pregnant with the promise of new beginnings and boundless opportunities. Yet, amidst the excitement, one question lingered—whose name would be called first?

With each step, purpose pulsed through (Y/n)'s veins, a steady rhythm guiding her forward. Tonight wasn't just about personal glory—it was the culmination of years of dedication, an opportunity to showcase her artistry on the grandest stage.

As she settled into her seat at the draft table, nerves and excitement tangled in her chest. The room buzzed with energy, a symphony of voices and whispered dreams. But amid the chaos, one figure stood out—Caitlin, a beacon of unwavering support, making her way to (Y/n) with purpose.

"Hey there, superstar," Caitlin's voice, a melody of pride and affection, washed over (Y/n) like a warm embrace. Leaning in, she planted a tender kiss on her lover's cheek, igniting a spark that danced across her skin.

(Y/n) returned the gesture with a soft smile, her heart overflowing with love. "Hey yourself," she murmured, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Caitlin's, their connection a lifeline in the swirling chaos.

"Okay, sassy are we?" Caitlin teased, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, her laughter a melody that danced through the air. At that moment, amidst the clamour of the crowd, they were a symphony unto themselves.

Though, soon enough, the minutes they were sharing vanished as the familiar chords sung, marking the beginning of the 2024 WNBA draft. The look shared between the two girls could only be described as duplicated. While their loving smiles spoke ‘good luck’, their eyes held nothing but determination. With one final squeeze to (Y/n)’s hand, Caitlin weaved back through the tables and took her seat.

Truthfully, (Y/n) couldn’t give a damn about the speech that Cathy Engelbert was reading. The probably scripted words only added to the weight on her heart as she awaited her next team assignment. Despite the dragging minutes, she kept up a facade of interest for the camera.

“And now, we don’t have to wait any longer because the pick is in!”

Those words flipped a switch in (Y/n)’s mind, her senses sharpening as Cathy Engelbert took the stage, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Each click echoed through the room, a metronome counting down to the pivotal moment. The air was thick with tension, electric and charged, every breath laden with anticipation.

The moment drew closer and closer.

“With the first pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the Indiana Fever select…”

The words hung in the air, estatic with possibility. Everyone held their breath as the selection came down to two athletes. (Y/n) glanced over to Caitlin’s table, finding her already searching for her eyes.

“Caitlin Clark, University of Iowa!”

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the room erupting in chaos as the crowd roared in ecstasy. (Y/n)’s heart thundered in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a rush, overwhelming and intoxicating.

With her eyes still locked onto Caitlin’s, she broke into a blinding smile, Caitlin mirroring her. In that moment, everything else faded into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.

(Y/n) stood, her heart pounding, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Every step toward Caitlin felt like an eternity, the ground solid beneath her feet. Suspense hung in the air like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating.

With a barely contained laugh, she tumbled into Caitlin’s embrace, the world spinning around them. Nothing else mattered but the warmth of Caitlin’s arms around her, the sound of their shared laughter drowning out the noise of the crowd.

“You did it. You deserve this, Caitlin,” (Y/n) spoke, her voice ringing clear over the clamour of the crowd. Her words were a declaration, a testament to Caitlin’s strength and resilience. Her final words slipped out in a hush, “I love you.”

Amidst the cacophony of noise and celebration, Caitlin held onto (Y/n) as if she were the anchor in a tempest. Each beat of her heart reverberated with the pulse of the crowd, her senses heightened by the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a moment suspended in time, a fleeting eternity of shared joy and boundless emotion.

As Caitlin finally released her grip, (Y/n) felt a bittersweet pang in her chest. Her heart swelled with pride for her friend, yet beneath the surface, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. In another time, her stomach might have plummeted, her throat constricted by the weight of unshed tears. But now, amidst the chaos of the draft, she found only a sense of serene acceptance.

Her gaze lingered on Caitlin, the embodiment of success and possibility, as she stood adorned in her Indiana Fever jersey. In that moment, (Y/n) glimpsed the future unfolding before her, a future that held boundless potential and untold promise.

Returning to her own table, (Y/n) was met with sympathetic glances and unspoken assumptions. But she brushed them aside with a knowing smile, the genuine ecstasy of Caitlin's triumph shining through her features. For in that moment, she understood that second place held no sting, no bitterness. Caitlin's victory was her own.

The room buzzed with anticipation as the attention shifted to the second pick of the night, belonging to the LA Sparks. (Y/n)'s heart raced with a mix of nerves and excitement. She couldn't help but steal glances at Caitlin, who was now enveloped in the embrace of her family, her smile radiant with joy.

As the tension mounted, (Y/n)'s mind raced back to all the years of hard work and putting up with undeserved bullshit. She remembered the countless hours spent on the court, the sacrifices made, and the people she overcame. It had all led to this, the culmination of a lifelong dream.

But amidst the anticipation, there was a sense of contentment that washed over her. She had already achieved so much, and seeing Caitlin's success only fueled her determination. Her focus remained unwavering, her heart filled with pride for her lover.

And then, it happened.

"With the second pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the LA Sparks select... (Y/n) (L/n)!"

The words echoed through the room, but Mayari hardly registered them at first. It was as if time stood still, her mind unable to comprehend the magnitude of what had just been announced.

But then, reality crashed over her like a wave. The cheers of the crowd filled her ears, and she felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her. The room seemed to spin, the lights blurring into a dazzling array of colours as she stood, her legs trembling with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. The warmth of the moment enveloped her, and with every beat of her heart, she felt the weight of everything she had worked for lifting off her shoulders.

Just then, amidst the applause of the crowd, she heard melodic notes of her name being called out.

Suddenly, (Y/n)’s world tilted on its axis as she was swept up into Caitlin’s embrace. Their gazes locked smiles mirroring one another in joyous ecstasy. The sounds of the cheering crowd seemed to fade, replaced by the pounding of her own heart and the warmth of Caitlin's arms around her.

"I love you too," Caitlin whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

(Y/n) felt her heart swell, her emotions threatening to overflow. They rested their foreheads against each other, their breaths mingling as they shared the profound intimacy of the moment. It was as if the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of them in their shared victory.

The fans in the crowd went wild, their cheers and applause creating a wave of sound that crashed over the two girls. Cameras flashed, capturing the raw emotion etched on their faces. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, one that neither of them would ever forget.

As they finally pulled apart, (Y/n) felt a laugh bubble out of her throat, the sound drawing an admirable expression from the brunette. She turned to face the stage, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. This was it—the moment she had dreamed of for so long.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) made her way to the stage, the cheers of the crowd propelling her forward. She felt the warmth of their support, the love and pride radiating from every corner of the room. This was her moment, a testament to all the hard work, the sacrifices, and the unwavering determination that had brought her here.

As she stepped onto the stage to accept her LA Sparks jersey, she glanced back at Caitlin, who was watching her with a look of pure, unadulterated pride. (Y/n) knew, in that moment, that they had both achieved something extraordinary and that this was just the beginning of their journey.

With the weight of the jersey in her hands and the future spread out before her like a vast, open sky, she felt a profound sense of peace and accomplishment. The journey had been long and arduous, filled with moments of doubt and resilience, but standing there under the bright lights, she knew it had all been worth it.

As she held up the jersey, a symbol of her new beginning, her eyes swept across the sea of faces, each one a blur of colors and emotions. The lights above her were warm, casting a golden glow that bathed the room in a surreal, dreamlike quality.

Her gaze found Paige amidst the cheering crowd. Paige's smile was radiant, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression a blend of pride and a quiet acknowledgment of their shared past. The sounds of applause and cheers seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic thudding of (Y/n)'s heart. The moment hung in the air, thick with unspoken words, a silent reconciliation and mutual respect woven between them.

(Y/n)'s heart swelled, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest, filling her with a deep sense of closure and peace. She returned Paige's smile, a genuine and heartfelt gesture, before her gaze naturally found its way back to Caitlin. Caitlin's eyes sparkled with joy, her love and pride shining brightly, grounding (Y/n) in the whirlwind of emotions surrounding her.

Caitlin's eyes were bright with joy and love, reflecting everything (Y/n) felt in that moment. The applause of the crowd seemed to fade into the background as they shared a private, intimate moment amidst the public celebration. Caitlin, in all her seriousness, blew (Y/n) a kiss, a tender gesture that drew a smile out from her. (Y/n), with a smile, reached out as if to catch it and then graciously tucked it into her pocket.

As she stood there, the weight of her journey lifted, she knew this was the beginning of a new chapter. With Caitlin's silent encouragement echoing in her mind, she felt ready to embrace whatever came next. The next step would be difficult, but it was hers to shape, and she would no longer be alone.

a/n: IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG SHIT'S BEEN TOUGH. anyways hope you liked it, if you wanna see more cc x reader lmkk also next chapter of midnight love will come out soon IM SERIOUS I PROMISE DON'T HATE ME

anyways thank you for the support love you guys, mwah <3

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @idratherbesleepingrn , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung, @ktaerssoi, @evangelinexo , @c999sh , @yazmunson , @choibeomkai , @ekisokay

#paige bueckers x reader #caitlin clark x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wlw #wlw fic #caitlin clark #iowa wbb

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lustfulslxt · 11 months ago

Note

hii can u do a smut femxmatt fic where they meet at a party and they like are kinda drunk and matt’s really flirty and touchy and they just end up fucking!! ty!!!

(kinda like ur party revelations one but maybe they’re both influencers or u could even do chris!)

Under The Influence - Chris Sturniolo

warnings : alcohol consumption, smut

a/n : i wrote this for chris bc as you said, i have party revelations for matt, and a friend of mine received a request just like this for matt. xx

—

Tie it up, put a chain on it

Make you tattoo my name on it

“Will you please come?” Sage begs, shaking my hand up and down, on the verge of a temper tantrum.

“You’re literally being ridiculous.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I don’t see what difference it would make if I were there or not.”

Sage has been asking me to go to this party with her for weeks now. However, my answer has been a constant no. I’m not a fan of parties, much less big influencer parties. Too much drama always stems from them; whether it’s so and so cheated, whoever’s beefing, they did this, they did that. They never fail to have some dumb shit pop off, hence why I’d just rather not go. I don’t need anyone attempting to ruin my reputation and career just for their own benefit, I’m good.

“Because you’re my best friend and I need you. You’re my hype man and wingman all in one. Please! Just this once! I’ll do anything!” She continues to plead.

I sigh, ultimately knowing I’ll cave, “This is the only party you’re going to convince me to go to. You know how I feel about being around a bunch of fake and dramatic fucks.”

She instantly starts jumping up and down, cheering whilst shaking my hands again. “We’re leaving in three hours, so make sure you’re ready. Also, we’re gonna uber so we can get fucked up.”

I just shake my head, not really looking forward to the night ahead of me. But maybe, just maybe, I can get drunk and enjoy myself. Dismissing my thoughts, I turn on some music and head to my bathroom to begin getting ready.

I take a long shower, thoroughly washing and exfoliating myself. I shave and do a hair and face mask, prepping myself for tonight. After getting out, I dry off and apply vanilla scented lotion to every part of my body.

Next, I slip on my undergarments and apply deodorant, then head to my closet to choose an outfit. It doesn’t take me long, before I choose a plain, black mini skirt and tube top with a long sleeve mesh dress paired over it that had gems scattered all over. I stick with a pair of black lace up pumps to go with my outfit. Sitting down at my vanity, I go through my makeup, debating on what kind of look I want. After pondering for a moment, I just choose a dark smokey eye with a basic beat. I line my lips with a medium dark brown and apply clear lip gloss, blending it all together flawlessly. For hair, I just stick with a basic blow out.

“Great! You’re ready!” Sage suddenly cheers from my bedroom door.

I look over and see that she’s fully dressed and ready to go, holding a bottle of vodka in her hand. Upon seeing that, my eyebrows raise.

“Why the face?” She asks, before registering it. “Oh, this! It’s for a little pregame. So, come on.”

I shrug and gather everything I need for tonight, placing it in my purse, then follow her downstairs. She already has two shot glasses set out on our dining room table, ready to be filled. Without another word, she fills both glasses to the rim with vodka, smirking at me as she raises her glass.

“Cheers to a great night!” She grins, clinking my glass with hers, both of us downing the harsh liquor.

My face contorts in disgust as the liquid flows down my throat, and I can’t help but cringe at the awful taste. Immediately, my chest is hot and I don’t want anymore. I’m not really a drinker, but I already know I can’t be sober in order to get through this night. We both take two more shots before our uber arrives and we’re heading to the party.

The driver talked our ears off the whole ride, so when we finally shut the doors of the black suv, we both sigh and fall into a fit of tipsy laughter. We’re not drunk, but neither are we completely sober.

Upon walking into the party, we’re met with a glowing red light, loud music, the smell of alcohol and weed, and a ginormous amount of people all chatting and dancing throughout the house.

“Y/N! Sage!” A voice calls out, directing our attention towards them.

It’s one of Sage’s friends, one I personally am not a fan of, but I know how to be nice. I shoot her tight lipped smile, leaving Sage to greet her.

“Hey! It’s been so long, how are you?” Sage asks, pulling her into a hug.

Before she can respond, I quickly interrupt, “Sorry, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

And with that, I’m making my way through the crowd of people, in search of the kitchen. It takes me about five minutes to get through everyone and I’m already slightly disgusted at the sweaty bodies and the lack of personal space. I’m not lying when I say parties aren’t my thing.

Finally being able to breathe in the less packed room, I deeply inhale and exhale, ridding myself of the building nerves. I walk over to the counter, grabbing a solo cup from the stack and browsing through the bottles of alcohol. I opt for an unopened bottle of vodka, not wanting to risk anything that may or may not have been tainted. I fill my cup up a little over half way, then turn towards the cooler to grab a chaser. More people have already piled into the kitchen, there now being less room to roam around. I reach into the cooler, grabbing the last can of pepsi, only for it to come up with another hand attached to it. My gaze trails up the veiny hand, following the arm it’s attached to, to observe who it is.

Bright blue eyes, pink lips, a sharp jawline, and wavy hair. A silver Vivienne Westwood chain hanging from his neck, sitting atop a white t-shirt that had a bear in a watering can, surrounded my grass and little flowers. Blue jeans and, last but not least, white air forces covering his feet.

He looks familiar. Hot, yet still familiar.

“Oh, hi.” He grins, snapping me from my thoughts.

That’s when I realize we’re both still holding the can, but I don’t let go.

“Hi.” I reply, my gaze set on his face.

“I think this is the last pepsi.” He points out.

I nod, raising my eyebrows at the obvious statement. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Pepsi’s my favorite.” He adds.

I can’t help the smirk that tugs on my lips, “Do you want a cookie?”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “I can’t have it?”

I only repeat his action and shake my head in return, pursing my lips to keep the smile from forming.

“Can we share it?” He asks, giving me puppy dog eyes.

And just like that, I’m folding. With a shrug, I pull the can from his grip. I open it up and dump some of its contents into my cup, then bring the can up to my lips, taking a drink all whilst holding eye contact. I notice him intently watching me, before grabbing the can and taking his own drink, licking his lips afterwards.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He questions.

I nod, biting my inner cheek, “And you are?”

“Chris.” He smirks, eyeing me and up and down. “Well, Y/N, we basically just kissed.”

I can’t help the loud laughter that falls from my lips, nothing less than amused at his statement. I can see the smirk on his face turn into a full blown smile as I try to catch my breath, recovering from the fit of giggles he put me in.

“That was corny.” I say, smiling at him with a shake of my head.

He tosses his hands up in defense, shrugging, “I mean, did we not?”

I don’t say anything, and bring my mixed drink up to my lips, downing all of it in one go. His eyes widen as he watches me. I don’t like alcohol, but I can manage. It doesn’t take long for it to take effect, on top of the shots I had earlier, I can already feel the warmth coating my insides. With a surge of boldness, I lean forward and place a small peck to the corner of his lips, swiftly pulling away and making my exit.

Just before I slip away, I turn back and flash him a smile, “See you around, Christopher.”

As the party goes on, I can tell the alcohol I’ve consumed has fully kicked in. The loud music is no longer bothersome, I don’t feel suffocated in the sea of people, and I feel good. It’s been around an hour since I’ve been here, and I’ve only ran back into Sage once. She’s off with her other friends, mingling around, and I’ve just been vibing.

I’ve seen Chris around, more times than I’ve seen anyone else. Unless I’m just fixated on him. It’s like every time I turn my head, my eyes are meeting his, and I never want to look away. Though, to save myself from embarrassment and humiliation, I force my gaze elsewhere.

After downing another shot, I make my way to the makeshift dance floor, and let loose. Under the Influence starts playing, and I can’t help but move my body to the beat, letting the rhythm flow through me. My hands make their way into my hair, my hips swaying in sync with the beat booming in my ears. Suddenly, I feel a warm presence directly behind me, causing me to spin around.

Hot and delicious.

Christopher.

“Hey, mama.” He slurs, a goofy grin showcasing across his lips.

He’s definitely invading my personal space, but I don’t even care. Especially when his enchanting scent is filling my nostrils, winding me in closer.

“Hello, Christopher.” I reply, my speech slightly incoherent.

“I knew you knew who I was.” He stammered, his body damn near pressed against mine.

“Mhm.” I hum in response, turning around and backing into him.

“You look good like this.” I hear his voice in my ear.

I grab his hands that were just barely grazing my waist, bringing them to fully grab my hips as I move into him. His large hands guiding me back and forth.

“You’re so pretty, it’s distracting.” He mumbles, his breath fanning my neck.

I can feel the goosebumps spreading, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“You’re drunk.” I softly say.

He shakes his head, “I’m not drunk. I’m just intoxicated by you.”

Again, I’m bursting into a fit of giggles from something he’s said. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m drunk or if he just makes me nervous.

“You’ve been stuck in my head since I first saw you earlier.” He admits, stumbling over his words a bit.

I turn back around, looping my arms around his neck as we continue rocking to the music. His hands go up to my waist, pulling me into his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him.

He licks his lips and shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping, “You don’t wanna know.”

Instantly, my eyebrow raises, “Try me.”

“I see you flipping your hair around and all I want is to wrap my hands in it while you’re taking my cock.” He states, his voice low and husky.

I immediately feel heat rush to my core, the sound of his voice and the words he’s saying, turning me on. I bring my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down on it to prevent the large smile that’s close to taking over my face.

“What if I was thinking the same thing?” I ask, the grin breaking through.

“Will you freak out if I kiss you?”

Looking up into his eyes, I subconsciously scoot closer to him as I shake my head. His eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips, then he slowly leans in. The second his mouth meets mine, my eyes flutter shut and I’m savoring the feeling of his soft lips on my own. One of his hands reaches around me and cups my ass while his other one is wrapped around my throat, pulling me impossibly closer. As our lips mold together, I find my hands in his hair, my arms holding him into me. The kiss is desperate yet soft, passionate yet hot. He pulls away, his face only centimeters in front of mine.

“Follow me.” He says, his breath slightly heavy as he intertwines our hands.

I do as he says, following closely behind him. We walk through the kitchen, dodging everyone in our way. We round the corner to a staircase leading downwards. He pulls me in front of him, ushering me to go down.

“After you.” He says, holding his arm out for me.

I shoot him a look, before grabbing his hand and walking down the stairs, him following in suit. We get to a door that he opens for me, nodding to enter. It’s a large bedroom, quite tidy in itself, and I can smell his scent wafting through the air. Only now did I realize this is his house. As he shuts the door, I walk around, taking everything in. My hands trail across the edge of his bed, feeling his comforter beneath my fingertips.

“Do you like my room?” He asks.

I turn around to face him and he has a soft, innocent look upon his features. However, I can already see right through him. I know what’s about to take place.

“I do.” I nod, “It’s very neat, and it smells good.”

“Thanks.” He grins, strolling over to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was your party?” I ask him, sitting on the end of his bed.

He shrugs, “Why did you pretend you didn’t know who I was?”

I toss my head back, soft giggles pouring out of my mouth. I look at him with a cheeky smile and low eyes, shrugging my shoulders. He just grins at me, before kicking his shoes off and nodding towards mine. “You can make yourself comfortable if you want.”

Within seconds, I’m unstrapping the uncomfortable heels and setting them aside. He lays back on his bed, his legs dangling off the side. He grabs my hand and gives it a soft tug, so I copy his actions, and lie back. We’re both facing one another, drunk and happy.

“How come I’ve never seen you at any parties?” He questions, his fingers playing with mine.

“I’m not really a party girl. Definitely not an influencer party girl.” I admit, warmth building in my stomach at his soft gesture.

“Well I’m glad you came to this one.” He says, staring into my eyes.

“Why’s that?” I smirk.

“Because who knows if I would’ve met you had you not.”

I can’t help the blush that pools to my cheeks at his response. He’s flattering and he knows it. I don’t say anything, I just take in his features for the millionth time tonight. His hair slightly out of place from my roaming hands, his face flushed from the heat upstairs, his eyes lidded from the alcohol in his system, his pretty pink lips looking oh so kissable. He looks so good. Without a word, he pulls me closer to him, my body flush against his.

“Is this okay?” He asks me, trying to read into my facial expression.

“It’s perfect.” I nod, enjoying the warmth he’s providing.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers, his breath fanning my face due to our short proximity.

A smile sneaks onto my lips as I look down, attempting to hide the red color that’s now adorning my skin. His large hand grabs my chin and lifts my head so that he can see my face. Our eyes meeting in an intense gaze, holding it for what seems like forever. He only breaks the eye contact when he puts his lips on mine again. It’s only a soft, chaste kiss.

“So pretty.” He says again, his voice low as he continues to press gentle kisses onto my lips.

The delicate kisses turn into feverish ones, our tongues now gliding in and out of one another’s mouths, lapping each other perfectly. Our lips move together so well, like we cannot breathe without each other. My hands return to his hair, softly tugging it, eliciting low groans from him. One of his hands cups my cheek, the other one resting on my lower back, pulling me even more into him. He flips me over onto my back and hovers above me, staring into my eyes once more as a small smile takes over his face.

“God, I can’t get enough of you.” He groans, smashing his lips into mine again.

One of his hands rests on the bed by my head, the other one rubbing my outer thigh. Just his soft touches are enough to make my skin hot beneath his fingertips. My hands connect with the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly and running my hands up his torso. He breaks from the kiss and removes his shirt, tossing it on the floor, then reconnecting our lips. He’s positioned between my legs, his groin inches above mine. My hands continue roaming along his torso, feeling his hot skin. I bring my legs up, hooking around his waist, pulling him down into me. His clothed erection presses into my heat, causing a low moan to leave my lips.

“Are we really doing this?” He pulls back and asks, his fingers playing with the hem of my dress.

“Yes, please.” I answer, my voice soft and breathy.

He grinds down into me, his hard on hitting exactly where I need him, causing another moan to leave my mouth.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you.” He groans into my ear, leaving a wet kiss on it.

I shudder in pleasure as he continues down my neck, sucking and biting, marking me up. I reach down for his dick, palming it over his jeans. He lets out a low moan, bucking into my hand, before harshly grabbing both of my hands and pinning them above my head.

“You first.” He mutters, holding my wrists with one hand while his other one travels down my body.

His hand swiftly makes its way between my legs, my dress riding up as he kneads my thighs. Then, he’s rubbing my core through my underwear. Hums of pleasure come from me, and I can feel them growing wetter and wetter.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, his voice raspy as he looks into my eyes.

“Y-yes.” I answer, moaning louder as he presses harder into my heat.

“So good using your words, mama.” He groans, licking my neck.

He then pokes his fingers in the waistband of my panties and slowly pulls them down my legs, discarding them to the side. He spreads my legs again, my dress and skirt now sitting completely on my hips. He throws his head back at the sight of my pussy glistening with my arousal. Without another word, his face is hovering above my center, his warm breath hitting it. I can feel myself clench around nothing, desperate for any type of stimulation.

“Look at you. I haven’t even done anything and your pretty pussy’s begging for me.” He smirks, his fingers now prodding at my folds.

Now coated with my juices, he runs a finger over my clit, rubbing in soft circles. I’m physically writhing beneath him, so badly needing more. He then thrusts a finger into me, causing my body to jerk and my mouth emitting a loud gasp. He continues pumping it in and out of me, then adds another and doing the same with it. My hands squeeze the bed sheet beneath me, attempting to release the tension building. His fingers are moving so fast in and out of me, curling in the right places. My mouth falls open, my brows furrowing as pleasure overcomes me.

“You look so pretty coming undone like this.” He says, peppering kisses all over my thighs.

“Feels s-so good, daddy.” I moan out, clenching around his fingers, unaware of the name that slipped from my mouth.

His eyes are completely black as he stares up at me, watching me fall apart. His dick is rock hard, throbbing and impatiently waiting to be inside of me. Without a second thought, his lips are wrapped around my clit, sucking on it as his fingers fuck into me. That alone is enough to push me over the edge, my legs shaking as I let go, giving into the building pressure. I feel my cum ooze out of me, quickly being slurped up by Chris, tasting every drop of me as his fingers help me through my orgasm.

“Mmm, you taste so good, ma.” He says, licking my lips.

He pulls his fingers out of me, coming back up to hover over me, shoving them in my mouth. I moan around his fingers, sucking my own juices from them. He harshly grips my jaw, slamming his mouth onto mine, the taste of me lingering on our tongues.

Breathless, he pulls away and stands up, pulling me to the end of the bed by my ankles. His hand travels up my leg from my foot, tenderly squeezing along the way.

“Can you stand up?” He asks, softly rubbing my hip.

I nod and scoot to the edge, standing up on shaking legs and looking up at him. He cups my face, brushing my cheek with his thumb. He plants a sweet kiss on my lips.

“Take your clothes off.” He says, his tone firm.

I happily oblige, stripping from my clothes as he does the same. I watch as his dick springs from its restrictions, hard and throbbing. Just from the look of it, I know I’m in for a treat. He strokes himself as he looks over my body, licking his lips. He steps in front of me, his member poking into stomach. His hands run up and down my body, pressing kisses into my neck.

“On the bed, on your knees.” He demands.

I do as he says, and he follows behind me, holding me up with his hand on my throat. His lips meet my neck, sucking and biting all over it, causing soft whimpers to leave my mouth. He pushes me forward, laying me flat on my stomach. He leans over me, licking and nipping my back, leaving a warm trail of saliva. His hands part my thighs, squeezing himself in between them. I can feel him run his tip between my folds a few times, causing me to push back in anticipation. He pushes me back down, slowly sliding himself inside me.

“Ugh, fuck.” He moans, bottoming out.

“You’re so big, daddy. Feels so good.” I moan, feeling him slowly thrust in and out, filling me so nice.

His strokes start slow and hard, before the speed picks up. His hands are on my back, holding himself up as he fucks into me at a delicious rate. I can’t help the moans that continuously fall from my mouth, feeling nothing but never ending pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, mama.” He groans out, fucking into me deeper and deeper.

It doesn’t take long for me to feel the buildup in my stomach once again. His hand wraps around my hair, tugging back as he leans over me once more. His mouth comes to my neck again, leaving wet kisses. I can hear his heavy breathing and low moans in my ear, and they’re driving me insane.

“Feels like you were made just for me.” He whispers. “I knew you would feel good, but this is better than I imagined.”

“All yours.” I babble, ridden with pleasure.

“You’re so tight, I can’t take it.” He moans, his voice holding a rasp to it.

I clench around him, feeling seconds from giving into my orgasm. A string of moans and curses fall from my lips, pure bliss coursing through me.

“You’re about to cum, I can tell.” He says, “Let it go, baby. Cum for me.”

And just like that, I’m releasing all over his cock with the loudest moans. His thrusts start to grow erratic, indicating he’s close to finishing as well.

“Such a good girl. Taking my cock so well, mama.” He moans out, thrusting harder.

Within a few more strokes, his dick twitches and his hot load is spurting into me, lewd groans emitting from his mouth. He pumps a few more times, riding out his orgasm, before slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of me. He collapses next to me, breathing heavily, looking me in my eyes with a goofy grin. His face is flushed red and his hair is sweaty, sticking to his forehead.

“That was amazing.” He breathes.

Unable to form words, I nod in agreement. His hand interlocks with mine, gently squeezing as his other hand brushes my hair out of my face.

“God, you’re so pretty, Y/N.”

I bashfully smile, “Thank you.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” He asks, his eyes shining with hope. “We can shower and you can wear some of my clothes.”

I ponder for a second before shrugging with a nod, “That sounds perfect. I’ll just have to let Sage know.”

He smiles, brightly, pecking my shoulder over and over as he pulls me into him.

“You’re never getting rid of me now.”

—

a/n : this took me entirely too long to finish, so sorry ab that!! also not proofread, as per usual. hope you enjoyed this!! continue sending in reqs and i promise i’ll get to them eventually <3

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throneofsapphics · 1 month ago

Text

against the contract, chapter three

poly!Feysandriel x f!Reader

summary: If they were genuinely bad people, it would be so much easier to kill them. Signing a special contract to work with Azriel, Feyre, and Rhysand turns out nowhere near expected. You were a bit of fun that became their solace and escape, they were supposed to be an easy assignment that turned into your living nightmare

warnings: d/s dynamics, guided masturbation, nightmares

word count: 2330

a/n: if anyone wants on the taglist please let me know!

<<< prev. chapter | series masterlist | next chapter >>> (coming 10/15)

That night, you laid up in bed, daydreaming about earlier that day, about the future, about them when the call came through. Your throat closed as you read the caller ID. Had you been sold out?

A shaky thumb hit the green accept button, convinced your neighbors could hear your heart thundering.

”Hey babes,” you put on your best cheery voice.

”Hi gorgeous,” she said with her signature sigh, as if everything was an inconvenience. “How are you?”

It sounded like genuine care in her voice, but you knew better. Knew what it meant when she dragged out the last syllable in a sentence. Genuine care meant she would’ve truly been there for you when ... you shook your head at the memories, refocusing on the conversation. You could play the game, if only to delay whatever news she was bringing.

“Great,” you replied. Because you were, truly. Besides this call, you felt fucking fantastic. Several more minutes of small talk passed, and you knew something was up. Her answers grew shorter, words sharpening into knives.

”What is it, Ianthe?” You finally asked.

”I'm calling in your favor,” the voice on the other end of the phone wasn't your childhood best friend anymore. She was all business.

Three days later, back in their house - if you could call something this large a house - you knelt on a cushion and thought about the package and message you'd received the night before. The contents quickly made it clear exactly who it came from.

Folded neatly, the small piece of paper contained a handwritten note.

Tomorrow, as soon as you step through the door you'll be in scene. Kneel to the left of the door, there will be a cushion waiting for you. Wear your gift.

Looking forward to seeing you xx

You figured it was Feyre, Azriel and Rhysand didn’t seem the type to leave kisses at the end of a note.

A black box with a silver ribbon, tied better than you could've done yourself. Inside was a butt plug, complete with a sapphire gem at the end, one you suspected might be real. You'd inspected it enough to know there was no remote control to turn on randomly, it was a pure and simple mark of ownership. You and your body liked the idea more than you should've. This was temporary, after all.

A text message from an unknown number had come through two minutes later.

It's Feyre, save my number. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow!

Three pairs of feet, walking nearly in unison interrupted your train of thought.

”Right,” Rhysand tilted your chin up, mouth indenting at one corner, smiling the way rich people do. “Get yourself off for us, darling.”

The flush of your cheeks was pure gold to him. He wanted to strip you down to your barest layers, push you to your limits, and leave you with his mark. Since you'd signed the contract, they'd done enough research to make any spy blush. He'd figured out you had a track history of being watched, but only with others touching you, never anything with you touching yourself. Where there was a gap, Rhysand usually found something to exploit.

It wasn't hesitation, but a moment to process, he could tell the difference. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as trembling fingers reached down between your legs. Concentrated effort kept his own eyes from rolling back as yours did. Feyre didn't have his same control, a breathy sound escaping her lips.

Azriel, on his right, had his arms crossed, expression neutral. Rhys was half tempted to have all three of them kneeling, but this was about you right now.

”It's not going to work,” you said after a little while, hand pausing. “It never does.”

Rhys glanced at Feyre, she nodded.

Feyre circled and crouched behind you, not touching but hovering enough that if you shifted your body weight you would collapse into her. Lips just a hair's breadth away from your ear, Rhys couldn't hear what she was saying but watched the fruits of it. You tugged at one nipple with two fingers, rolling it back and forth, your other index finger stroking your clit more firmly this time.

With Feyre's words, Rhys watched your movements grow more confident

Rhys watched as your head fell back, the elegant arch of your neck showing, Azriel going very still next to him, one of the man's only tells.

Legs tensed, your hand slipped from your nipple to slap against the stone tile, your back arching.

This, Rhys knew in that moment, was going to work beautifully.

After that first scene, they took you on a tour of the manor, this time showing you more of the rooms as you struggled to commit them all the memory. It would take time for you to learn your way around this place, especially the grounds. Feyre mentioned she’d give you a tour of them tomorrow.

You met them for a perfectly normal dinner, where they’d discussed a few more details.

“We ask that you do not wander the grounds alone at night, our security detail doesn’t know you yet ...” Rhys let the end of his words drift off, and you understood the implication. Here, you didn’t want to be treated as an intruder.

“I won’t wander the grounds at night,” you confirmed.

Rhys’s grin seemed a little easy, as if it was designed to put people at ease. It worked on you.

You’d thought there would be something else to the night, especially considering how much they were paying for you to be there but that had been it. Looking at the giant, ridiculously comfortable bed in front of you, it was all too easy to dive right into it, burrow yourself up, and collapse into sleep. Another day, you’d think your way out of the situation Ianthe put you in.

“I never loved you. You were a burden I didn’t need at the worst time in my life,” she sneered at you, hands braced on her hips in that very mom-like way.

“Mom,” you - squeaked? Glancing in the mirror behind her, you couldn’t be more than ten years old. She’d always loved you, it had always been the two of you against the world. Why would she do this to you now?

“Get out,” her voice grew deeper, her face transformed. White stones - no, teeth - clattered to the floor from an open maw. Drop. Drop. Drop. Eyes turned black, and sticks reappeared where her teeth had been. “Leave. Out. Out. Out.” The last word broke through in her natural voice, cerulean blue flashing where black had been, a pleading and broken look. “While you still can,” the demon that had taken over her whispered in a sing-song voice. A door locked behind you and it tutted. “Too late.”

You shot up in your - where the hell were you?

Glancing around, you familiarized yourself. Elegant canopy. Black walnut furniture

Right. Contract.

The recurring nightmare had disappeared for the last few months, but you supposed a change in scenery could bring it back. Nothing strange, nothing abnormal, you chanted to yourself silently.

A look at your side table told you your glass of water was empty.

Earlier, they didn’t say anything against wandering the halls at night.

Wrapping a silk robe around you, a gift from them, you tiptoed out of your room, the cold tile soothing against your bare feet. You’d woken up in a sweat, you realized. Unsurprising.

A giggle escaped you, what would they say if they saw you wandering the halls naked at night? Probably send you back home, you sobered. That’s not what you wanted. Letting the moonlight drifting through the large windows guide you, you trailed a hand along the walls.

Gorgeous. Beautiful. Serene.

It was like that here in daytime, but you thought the night tended to bring out a special breed of person, yourself included in that category.

You made it to the kitchen without seeing a soul, one hand firmly clutched around your glass.

After you’d filled it nearly to the top, you slowly turned and spilled half of it on you at the sight.

Azriel, in the doorway, looking like a shadow of death

“Am I breaking a rule?” You tilted your head. A genuine question, not sass. At least you hoped it came across that way.

”Not technically,” Azriel muttered, “just common sense.” The words would have stung if you hadn't seen how his mouth briefly curved up at one corner, a slight squint at the corner of his eyes. Sarcasm, or amusement. Maybe something about the night took away some of his stoicism.

He stalked across the space, his form crowding yours as he plucked the glass from your hand, shifting behind you and dumping it down the -

“What are you doing?” You squeaked.

“We have filtered water,” he lifted it above your head when you tried to grab it from him.

“Sink is fine,” you insisted.

He ignored you and made his way to the fridge instead, placing the glass on a small shelf, and pressing a button.

“I’ll take you back,” he said once he finished filling it.

“Okay,” you trailed him cautiously.

You could’ve done all of this on your own, and might have snapped back at him for it another time but you didn't want to push too far. If anything, you knew the least about him.

“Why are you awake?” He asked, and it felt wrong to lie to him.

“A nightmare,” you settled for the simple explanation instead.

“A nightmare,” he echoed. “I get those sometimes.”

It surprised you to hear him share something so ... personal with you, but you wouldn’t take it for granted. It made you want to share with him.

“It was about -”

You stopped. No. That was too personal. Too much. The only living person who knew about it was currently trying to turn your life into a nightmare.

He shot a curious glance your way, but didn’t push you any further on the subject. Why did you want him to?

series taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy @yeonalie @daycourtofficial @emidpsandia @thelov3lybookworm @justasillylittlegoofyguy @aactuaaltraash @hannzoaks @angelbunny222 @littlest-w01f @pandabiiissh @rosecobollway @glittervame @tele86 @randomgurl2326 @bookwormysblog @sidthedollface2 @scarsandallaz @therealmoonstone @grapeflavoredwater @fhgsvbnh @sfhsgrad-blog @julesvanslutta

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @i-am-a-lost-girl16

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze @littlest-w01f

#feysandriel x reader #poly!feysandriel x reader #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #feyre archeron x reader #acotar fic #acotar x reader #kinktober 2024 #acotar smut

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kedsandtubesocks · 2 months ago

Text

the dark dresses lightly

Dave York x F!Reader

written for @perotovar offering of frith challenge

Vidar [Víðarr] (The Silent God of Vengeance)

summary: your ex has made your life hell & you had hoped for retribution - but when it arrives as a handsome stranger you must now place your trust (and heart) in his hands

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. Norse God Mythology AU (Dave is still Dave but also the god of vengeance), fake dating, mild angst & yearning, soft & protective!Dave, creepy awful ex boyfriend & his awful friends (stalking, extreme harassment), light use of gendered language, alcohol consumption, themes & moments of violence, gun usage, blood imagery, minor character deaths, masturbation (f), soft dom!Dave, Dave’s dirty talk, use of “good girl”, oral (f!receiving), finger sucking, light spit kink, fingering, smutty thoughts, spicy themes, poetic allusions to smut (p in v)

word count: 8.9k

a/n: here’s my offering to our dear @perotovar wonderful writing challenge - the moodboard is all theirs too! Thank you for arranging for us Erin & for all the help you’ve given me, ily forever! Also a huge thank you to @pedgito & @pr0ximamidnight for always letting me scream about this wacky idea lol… now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You meet the god of vengeance at a bar. It sounds like a bad joke, but it’s true.

Except you didn’t know he was the god of vengeance then…

The situation with your ex brought you to this point and to this bar.

You feel like a cliché sitting at the counter nursing a drink. The meeting with your dad’s attorney friend went well. You just hope, wish, this all will end soon.

“You okay?” A smooth, rich, hesitant voice emerges beside you, and when you turn you’re stunned.

He’s utterly gorgeous. Dressed in a dark blazer and red tie, it’s like he just walked out of a very important conference meeting. Sharp clean shaven jaw, amazing tiger’s eye gem like gaze, beautiful aquiline nose - you didn’t even hear him approach.

You wonder if maybe he’s a hallucination.

Weakly, you reassure him you’re fine, even flash a fake smile.

His eyes wince almost like he’s heartbroken at your response. But you get it. You alone in the bar exhausted and dejected probably presents a bleak sight.

“This seat taken?” The mystery man asks, nudging at the open barstool next to you. You gently tell him it’s not.

He grins soft, under-stated and polite. There's a reassured ease you’re surprised to see in his eyes. The man turns to the bartender and orders a drink for himself and you.

The dark cloud looming around you slowly starts to dissolve.

“What’s your name?” He asks, and you happily give it to him.

“I’m Dave.” He extends his hand out respectfully. The handshake is firm, and you already can’t get over how much larger his hand is compared to yours.

You haven’t met and talked to someone like this in so long, especially with the mess you’ve been dealing with. Dating has been out of your mind completely.

“So what brings a beauty like yourself to a bar all alone?” Dave smoothly asks.

A flattered fluster runs across your face. His tone isn’t out right flirty but still curious, testing the waves.

Hesitation however tugs at you. The last time your best friend tried to set you up with one of her co workers, you accidentally let everything slip about the mess with your ex boyfriend. The guy was polite and sweet about it all but never talked to you again after that.

So you half lie and say you’ve been dealing with some legal issues. You explain how you just left meeting an attorney and dropped by this bar nearby.

Dave nods, patiently.

“That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry.” He sympathizes.

After thanking him, you now ask what brings someone like him to the bar. The man smirks, and it colors him slightly cocky but attractive like a coy rich business man.

“Just dropped by after work.” He answers and curiously you of course ask what he does.

“Oh, I’m a mercenary,” he explains simply.

That’s a new one.

“If you are, then you’re doing a bad job at keeping a low profile.” You casually tease. Dave smiles, crinkling his rich earthen eyes.

He of course reveals he works a boring government job. The small talk comes easily afterwards. He makes you laugh and is engaging to talk to. Every worry, every weight that’s been on your shoulders, ebbs away.

Eventually you excuse yourself to the bathroom, but before you move from the bar stool someone yells your name, and your heart drops.

You find Nick, your ex’s best friend, here with other guys from work. You’re terrified.

“You look scared.” Nick laughs mockingly. You’re torn between running or throwing your drink at him.

“You okay? Do you need me to call someone?” Dave swiftly asks worried, and you shake your head.

You head to the bathroom to calm yourself down. After splashing some water on your face, you simply reassure yourself to finally sober up and drive home.

But stepping out of the bathroom into the hallway, you’re not alone.

Nick sneers. “So, heard you’ve been causing my boy some trouble.”

“Your piece of shit fuck of a friend is the one causing me trouble.” You snap. Even though every cell in your body screams to hit this guy in the face, you decide to walk away.

“Fuckin’ bitch.” He curses under his breath.

Nick corners you against the wall in the tight hallway. Disgust bubbles in your throat. You try maneuvering around him, but this asshole is persistent in blocking your path.

Eventually you manage to squeeze past. Unfortunately you trip on Nick’s obviously held out foot and fall forward fast.

You hit the bar’s stone flooring hard. The asshole who tripped you laughs. Anger, embarrassment, or a deadly combination of the two swirls in your chest.

Someone however quickly steps in between you and Nick’s menacing shadow.

“Leave, before I show you out.” Hearing Dave’s voice your eyes widen. You again didn’t even hear him approach or see him walk in.

“What the fuck man, I didn’t do shit she just tripped!” Nick sneers with a snake venom infused lie.

Dave doesn’t say anything, instead helps you up with steady hands. Nick calls you a fucking cunt under his breath before he walks away.

Suddenly he trips on air falling flat on his face. The crack of the impact is loud, and he screams. Everyone close by gasps and when Nick sits up, his nose bleeds violently as crimson spills onto his work attire.

You almost want to laugh.

“Sweet revenge.” You mutter smug to yourself.

Dave chuckles low, and you smile softly to him.

His cologne, dark and rich, expensive as hell, and his deep eyes are a comfort.

The ambulance is called for Nick. Dave urges you to let the paramedics check your wounds too.

“I just need a few bandaids, that’s all.” You urge, but the sharp pleading look he gives makes you stay.

Eventually even the paramedic treating your scrapes whispers with a warm friendly grin. “Make sure to get his number.”

But when you glance out to find Dave, it’s like he disappeared into thin air. After getting the clear from the medic, you head outside to the secluded parking lot behind the bar. You want to at least thank him.

There outside in the quiet secluded lot Dave types something on his phone. Before you can even call out to him -

You literally watch Dave walk into the dark shadow of the building and disappear.

You’re sobered up. Your eyes are fine. You know what you saw. Your confusion only solidifies and gets confirmed when Dave flickers back out to the same spot from the shadows. He stares at you with dangerous cloudy eyes.

“Fuck.” He exhales.

With a sigh, this strange man nudges his chin towards you signaling to follow him. You sit in the passenger's seat of his sleek luxury car. You don’t panic. Prickling curiosity and slight confusion run through you more than fear.

“So are you like… a witch or something?” You ask weakly.

Dave barks a dry laugh.

“No, nice guess though.”

He apparently isn’t a demonic figure either, though his face darkens when you ask that.

“I wasn’t fully lying about the mercenary hitman job. I just happen to be something else.”

Specifically, he calls himself the god of vengeance.

You laugh now.

“Wait, what?” You settle confused seeing him glare unamused at you.

He says his true name -

Viðarr

The name rolls off his tongue a beautiful wave and has the hum of an ancient forest. A chill even runs up your spine.

“But after so many years and aliases, you can just call me Dave.”

This guy can’t be serious.

“You just saw me walk in and out of a shadow, but now you’re doubtful?” His eyebrows raise.

He’s right of course. But the atmosphere in the car freezes tense, like this man waits for you to react or maybe you’re waiting for him to react.

“What’s going to happen to me then?” Your voice creaks, hesitant and worried.

“Normally? I would erase your memories. But…because of your situation, this actually might work out.”

This supposed god of vengeance explains how your situation has been brought to his attention.

“I’m here to decide if that ex of yours should face retribution or not.”

Your blood runs cold. You never once mentioned your ex.

“I need at least a month to observe him. So my original plan was to try and stay close to you. But since you know about me…this might work to my advantage.” Dave explains all this as if he’s simply explaining a new insurance plan to you.

“I still need to figure out the details-”

“Just…can I please just go home…” you finally croak out cutting Dave out.

The air in the car pops.

“Uh…yeah sure.” Dave says deflated. “Do you need me to take you home?”

You shake your head no. Wearily, fighting back tears, you thank him for the drinks and for dealing with Nick.

Your head spins. You don’t know how you manage to get home. Yet you can’t stop thinking about Dave and who he truly is. His words linger, especially about how he has to observe the situation with your ex…

Your mind turns and turns.

But the next day you head back to the bar.

Leaning against his sleek car looking devilishly handsome, Dave waits.

Before he can even say anything you slide into the passenger's seat. He follows your lead.

“I have an idea.” You declare firm.

A somber, suspicious, look falls over the god of vengeance’s face. He doesn’t say anything, just nods, a signal for you to speak.

This is your plan.

Dave needs to be your fake boyfriend.

“My ex…he was the worst when he got jealous.” You explain how he even messaged and harassed an old coworker cause he was paranoid you were cheating.

So maybe now adding the pressure of a new boyfriend would make him show his true nature even more.

Dave’s eyes light up, surprised.

“That’s…not a bad idea at all.” He even mutters about how this would allow him to get better observation from your side of things.

Dave simply nods, turning to you determined.

He holds his hand out almost anti-climatic. However, that's when you realize how easy it is to shake vengeance's hand.

Later at your apartment the neighbor furthest down the hall perks up seeing you in the landing.

“Did you see?! We have someone new moving in. And he’s really cute.” He whispers while he accompanies you on your walk.

Walking up the stairs a few boxes clutter the hallway.

Dave steps out of the open door and smiles. He’s ditched the suit blazer and tie. Now his button up shirt is rolled up to his elbows. You almost choke on an inhale.

“Hey.” His voice radiates sparkling and friendly, a picture perfect sweet guy next door. “You lovely folks must be my new neighbors. I just moved in. Nice to meet you both.”

You act as nice and calm as you can when warmly greeting him. The minute you step into your apartment you try not to freak.

A solid knock comes at your door. Opening it, Dave stands grinning slightly coyish and smug.

“You got any sugar, neighbor?”

You almost slam the door in his face. But of course you let him in.

“Thought moving in would help. It makes for a good alibi, getting with the guy you just met in your apartment. Plus being close by helps to see if your ex pulls any shit.” Dave explains while he inquisitively looks around your place.

You get his logic. It just takes you by surprise.

“See you around, neighbor.” He nods with a gleam of dark playfulness brewing in his eyes.

Already this man, or this ancient being, seems like such an enigma.

That’s only confirmed when Saturday arrives and someone knocks at your door.

Dave once again stands on the other side. This time in a lightly casual outfit of a leather jacket and jeans that still seem effortlessly put together. He reminds you of a guy who owns a home in the hamptons.

“Thought we’d go out on a date. If you’re free.” He offers, and you have to force your jaw not to drop.

He ends up taking you to the city’s aquarium and pays for everything.

“We can get lunch or something afterwards if you like.” Dave suggests.

You remember this is all for show.

So you take this time as a chance to enjoy a day among the gorgeous fish and beautiful blue waves all around.

But even admiring the angelic jellyfish, a worried itch crawls at the back of your neck. Your ex has shown up at the worst time in places you never would have ever expected.

A warm hand comes against your back, and Dave’s wonderful birch cologne clouds your mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here. Won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice, deep and low, is simple and absolute in his promise.

When you focus on him, the soft light of the aquarium bathes him ethereally highlighting his godly features. You can now see why he’s not a simple mortal man. Someone this gorgeous is unearthly.

As promised Dave stays close beside you. You even start relaxing so much that you ask him questions.

You had been wondering if he really does work at a government job.

“No, I run a private investigation agency. Didn’t wanna tell you that and scare you off thinking it was your ex after you.” He explains.

“How does an ancient god run an agency?” You ask dubious and slightly amused.

Dave rolls his eyes.

“The same way you’re taking this all really well. It just becomes a natural thing.” Dave says while you and him pass by a lovely stretch of coral reefs and fish. “Plus some families are in service to me, have been for centuries. So this helps them continue to work for and with me.”

“A private investigation agency must help with confirming and keeping track of things. Plus a god with a job seems humbling.” You lamely add, and he snorts.

“Yeah something like that. It also weeds out which cases aren’t fair.”

That shocks you, and you press more. Among the dreamy blue waters glossing over the room, you and Dave stroll leisurely.

“As simple as vengeance can be, I’m honor bound to only act if the situation is deemed justified.”

He even goes into detail about how situations are weighed out, determined, and how the hearts of people are almost judged. A worried heaviness arrives. You now hope your situation can pass this trail.

Thankfully the aquarium is rather vacant so you don’t worry about someone overhearing. But, you’re also wondering why Dave freely discusses this with you.

“Because you won’t remember any of this.” His answer is collected, faintly frosty and curt.

“Anytime I’ve had to talk to other mortals I normally erase their memories, along with anyone else involved, once everything is done. It keeps everyone safe.”

“Oh.” Your voice dips.

So, you won’t remember him.

“It’s for the better for everyone.” Dave adds calculated.

For some reason a strange tightness settles now over you. Dave and you stay silent the rest of this strange date.

He walks you back to your apartment door, and you politely thank him for the nice afternoon.

Resolution settles in you. You swear to not take any of this personally. After all, you won’t remember it.

For being an ancient god of vengeance, Dave is a surprisingly considerately sweet boyfriend.

He drops by with coffee and pastries when he can. After he exchanged phone numbers with you, he even sent you a meme that made you laugh. Playfully you had texted back -

Didn’t know old gods could have such a good sense of humor or could text

He sent an unamused emoji face after that.

Everyone of course takes note of Dave’s new place in your life. Your sister even wants to meet the new guy.

“I know it’s been hard… this year. But seeing you try getting back out there and hearing how good this guy is already, I’m happy for you.” She says. You swallow back the heaviness and truth wanting to slip away.

But you won’t spoil this gilded lie. You can’t.

That’s what you tell yourself when you invite Dave over for dinner at your place.

Lounging eased in your living room watching the game, he’s the picture of comfort. Especially in his casual jogger pants and soft sweatshirt.

You hate how much you enjoy seeing him in your space. It’s been isolating these past few months with how awful your ex has been. Now it’s like slowly gaining a new friend. You at least can appreciate that with Dave.

But thinking of him just as a friend is getting murky, especially since you find yourself staring at his gorgeous shoulders and cute ass while he stands in your living room.

Dave is extremely handsome, charming, playfully snarky and surprisingly perceptive. It’s hard trying not to get swept into this idea of being his.

The next date night he takes you to see a movie. Walking back from the apartment’s parking garage he offers his arm, and you greedily take it.

“Okay, next time I’m picking the movie cause I can’t trust your taste I’m sorry.” Dave argues jokingly, almost flirty. You snicker but readily argue about how good the movie was while staying linked in the crook of his elbow.

A familiar voice yells out your name, and your soul evaporates.

You freeze on instinct. From across the street, your ex approaches slowly. Your legs almost give out.

“So it’s true. You’re dating someone.” He says in disbelief. You can’t even speak, can’t handle how terrifyingly sharp his terrified eyes stare at you.

Suddenly Dave effortlessly slides in front of you, completely protectively blocking you. His hand moves to intertwine with yours.

“You need to leave.” Dave declares firm.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Your ex fires back.

“You’re making my girlfriend upset. So that means this is my problem now.” Dave’s words cut through the air deadly, and your heart flutters.

It’s the first time he’s addressed you as that - girlfriend.

“Girlfriend? Girlfriend?!” Your ex boyfriend cries, horrified and upset. You only realize you’re shaking when Dave squeezes your hand, stabilizing you.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Dave orders with a commanding yell.

Your ex continues trying to talk to you, but it’s all nonsense, almost waterlogged with your head feeling fuzzy.

Dave shifts to now pull you completely into his side and guides you back into the apartment complex. Your ex’s voice grows more distant until you’re safe inside. Thankfully he isn’t allowed on the property anymore.

Your hand clutches Dave’s refusing to let go. He keeps you in his hold the entire time even arriving at your door.

Whenever this happens you always head to your parents or sister’s place. You already think about packing a bag.

“Hey,” Dave’s voice softly interrupts your cluttered thoughts.

“Do you…want to stay at my place tonight?”

When you turn towards him, vengeance has never looked this beautiful. His eyes are glossy, drenched with understanding.

You nod.

Dave helps grab your essentials then guides you back to his apartment. Even with the roller coaster still running in your mind, you perk up knowing you’re finally seeing his place.

It’s sleek, immaculate in its cooler toned shades. However it also radiates a spartan aesthetic. The walls are moderately barren. On the counter though various items from all the dates you’ve gone with him, like the aquarium map, litter the space.

That comforts you knowing he’s kept them.

“You can take my bed really, I don’t mind.” He offers.

You shake your head. “The couch is perfect really.”

Now stubbornly Dave sits beside you on the couch, and you snort.

“I won’t leave until you do.” Dave grins.

You snuggle into the couch more, almost defiant in pulling the blankets up. The ancient god rolls his eyes, but makes no sign of moving either.

“That ex of yours...” Dave cautiously comments.

“Yeah.” You sigh tired.

The rose colored glasses could only hide so much before the toxic emptiness swallowed you. You’re now left with the pieces of yourself you’re still grateful to have and hold together.

Dave patiently sits with you, listening attentive when you tell him everything. After unfolding your heart to him, you almost ache to know more about this mythical man.

So he tells you about ancient kings who called upon his aid for the most trivial things, to actual countries that begged for his wrath.

As he reveals so much, you notice how many shadows weigh on him, aging him in a way that speaks of the eons of trouble he’s faced. It’s like Dave houses an archaic rusted ache you could never fathom.

Something deep within your heart longs to gently run your fingers through his hair, or even hold his hand.

But these thoughts are dangerous to have for a man you won’t even remember in a month's time.

On the couch, not even paying attention to what’s on the television, simply being at peace in Dave’s company, you slowly start falling asleep.

Halfway in the night, you wake up slumped against Dave.

His warm solid shoulders, the soft rise of his chest, you’ve never been this close to him. The faint smell of his cologne mixing his fabric softener, along with something uniquely him, wraps around you a protective delicious comfort.

A delicate shift comes in your heart as you snuggle closer to him.

“I think…I’m going to extend this surveillance to another month.” Dave says when you and him quietly get ready for the morning.

The way he calls this relationship and situation a surveillance punches right through your chest. It reminds you this again is not real. You also can’t believe a month has come and gone.

When you go on another date with Dave, this time to an art museum, he readily holds your hand. It’s awful knowing something in you is crystallizing in adoration.

He’s thoughtful in admiring the art, almost plucked from a hallmark movie dream. As much as you enjoy holding Dave’s hand being by his side, you realize you need to start pulling away before you fall even harder.

Thankfully a text comes in for you to reply to. There's also an alert from Instagram.

One message comes. Then a spam of them flood your inbox. The profile that sent them is blank, and what they sent are horrendous. They call you an absolute whore, argue how you’re nothing more than a pathetic piece of trash.

Your throat gets tight, and your hands shake.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” The pet name causes your heart to skip, but the panic is too much.

Wearily showing him your phone, he frowns dark.

“Only more proof I guess.” You half joke.

Dave thankfully reports the account, but the mood of the day is soured.

“Hey, let’s get something sweet, yeah?” He suggests softly rubbing your back. You agree hoping this will help.

Thankfully it does. Dave is surprisingly talkative, even discussing this one particular client who requested revenge on their old partner because he stole a family secret ice cream recipe.

“You can’t be serious.” You snicker.

“I swear on my godhood!” Dave laughs, and it paints him devilishly young. Though you do tease him for getting rum raisin, and he rolls his eyes.

Now you watch him slowly lick away at the ice cream, letting his tongue drag along the treat slowly. Your mind rapidly catches fire imagining his tongue dragging across your body in just as slow.

It’s getting harder to not want Dave, especially seeing how handsome he looks in his leather jacket and simple t-shirt.

Then at your apartment door, anxiety slowly festers. You don’t want to be alone tonight. You even hesitate grabbing your keys.

Dave tugs on your hand still holding his. “Just stay at my place. I’m heading back to the office tonight so you’ll have the place all to yourself.”

You thank him, grateful for the comfort of just not being in your apartment.

But being alone in his place might have been the worst decision. Curiosity claws into you while you wander. The space stands smaller than yours and is still so sparse. Finally stepping into his bedroom, a dangerous urge bubbles in you.

“Make yourself at home.” He did tell you, so it’s why you slowly pull the covers back and slide into Dave’s bed.

The cold gray sheets fit him. But the smell of him, swirling all around you, enveloping you, has your pussy wet.

You imagine him sleeping here, wondering what he’d look like if he’s ever fucked his fist here -

Your eyes flutter shut while your hand drifts to your underwear. You should feel shame and disgust for getting off in your fake boyfriend's bed, but you quickly rationalize you won’t remember this.

So pressing your face into Dave’s pillow you let your fingers curl into your pussy imagining it’s his thick firm fingers instead.

You come harder than expected. Exhausted and floating in post orgasmic soft bliss you wearily drift to sleep in his bed.

Until noise in the other room suddenly has you bolting up in a slight panic. Hastily you head out into the living room.

In the low light, Dave puts things away in safes and among bags. You catch glimpses of various types of weapons. The one he places back in a duffle bag is a gun. Your heart does jump at the sight, but it makes sense for a god of avenging to have many forms of it.

Dave quickly whips around spotting you.

He’s dressed very differently tonight. In all black athleisure, even wearing black beanie that intensifies his appearance, he looks every bit the hit man he once joked about being.

He says your name soft, a mutter. Your focus goes to the cut across his cheek.

“You’re injured!”

He blinks surprised at your words.

“Oh yeah, got a little hairy tonight. But it’s nothing, should heal up in a couple of hours.”

“You’re still bleeding.” You firmly rummaging around the kitchen for the small first aid kit you remember seeing in one of the drawers.

“Honey, I’m fine.” You can’t even comment on the pet name instead stubbornly grab a bandaid and disinfectant.

“I don’t need a bandaid.” He dully tells you.

“Too bad.” You huff.

Dave sighs, giving up and taking a seat on the couch. The cut isn’t bad, but you still tend to it best as you can. With the briefest glance down, you spy blood crusted over Dave’s fingers.

“So you were out… dealing with someone tonight?” You cautiously question.

He sighs. “Yeah, finally got to take out this awful piece of shit, but he put up a fight.”

You should be rattled hearing him casually discuss violence, even seeing it drying on his hands. But you’re not afraid.

“Glad you made it back safe.” You truthfully tell him.

He chuckles dry. “Always do.”

Gently placing the bandaid on his face, your fingers accidentally graze against him.

Dave appears like a normal man, a handsome business looking guy you met at the bar. But right now he seems to have shed that persona and sits before you a sort of chameleon stuck between identities.

It must be hard to compartmentalize so much like he does. And…it must be lonely.

You don’t realize you’ve gotten lost in your thoughts, allowing your fingers to absentmindedly trace across his cheeks, until Dave’s hand slowly crawls up your wrist.

You’re about to apologize until his eyes lock you in place. His daze simmers between a deep darkness and soft awareness.

His other hand now rubs up against your other arm.

“Thank you.” Dave mutters.

Cautiously he turns towards your fingers still on his face, and his eyes haze over. The hold he has on your wrist slowly drags your hand down his cheek, almost like he’s pulling your fingers to his lips. He inhales deep and instantly his eyes close. You’re hypnotized, waiting to see what he does.

Then a phone goes off, and the moment shatters.

You scramble away. Dave immediately swiftly answers his phone with a professional steeled voice.

Flustered, you’re considering maybe grabbing your things and heading back to your apartment. Dave however calls your name. Like a spooked deer, you turn. He nudges his chin at you.

“Head back to bed sweetheart, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Your mind goes blank as you nod stunned. Then everything melts away. Possessed, maybe floating on a cloud, you slip back into his sheets.

You want to stay awake, want to see him get comfortable and get into bed. But exhaustion wins pulling you back to sleep.

Strong arms slowly curl around you, the warmest protective shield. You even wonder if it’s all a dream.

Especially when you wake up alone.

On the kitchen counter sit your favorite pastries and coffee order with a note from Dave who had to leave to work early. Running into him later heading back to the apartment after work, you notice he’s still wearing the bandaid you placed on him.

It makes you grin wide.

Work eventually gets busy. You miss out on a date weekend which you see as a blessing.

You’re growing too attached to Dave and it’s dangerous. You even ignore a few of his messages he’s been sending you, blaming it on work.

Work even has you staying up late now trying to finish up a few things.

Until a sudden rush pelts against your window, and a small scream escapes you.

You’re on the second floor, what the fuck can possibly be making that noise?

Drawing back the curtains, trash greets you flying hard against the glass. You know it’s your ex and his stupid friends.

You hate that you’re about to cry and that the first person you’re calling -

Is Dave.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” He rushes out on the phone.

Before you can answer, from a shadow against your living room wall Dave walks out like he emerged from a door.

Immediately his face drops seeing you and then hearing the rush of shit getting thrown at the window.

Swiftly, moving like a sleek hunter, he pulls a gun out from behind and slides between you and the window. Dave opens the window then very obviously peers out with the gun in hand.

It’s enough to scare your ex and his friends.

You wearily head to the couch and collapse in on yourself. Silent as a shadow Dave draws you into his arms and holds you close.

“Can you stay?” You weakly ask.

“Don’t even have to ask.” He mutters rubbing your back.

Camping out in the living room with piles of blankets and pillows, Dave pulls up a seat against the window, keeping the gun in hand.

Your eyes fully take in the sight of him staring out keeping watch, a haunting stoic sight of brewing composed wrath.

He drips of an ancient blood, old as the galaxies themselves or possibly even older, and you want to cradle that violence in your hands.

“Do I scare you?” He asks quietly in the evening’s abyss.

Still lying on the couch, among your blankets, you shake your head no.

“Feel safe with you.” You mutter truthfully. This is the safest you’ve felt in so long.

You fall asleep without any worry knowing he’s nearby.

After that night, and for the rest of the month, he’s either at your place or you’re at his. One of your chairs becomes a constant spot where he sets his jackets. Your toothbrush keeps his company in his bathroom.

When you’re facetiming with your sister he accidentally walks by, and immediately she perks up.

“Is that the secret mystery man?!” She cries out.

Dave awkwardly waves but charms her with his smile.

“You need to invite him for my big promotion dinner this Friday.” She urges with a hiss.

You snap at her fierce, but when you hang up Dave quietly asks -

“So what time is dinner Friday?”

You throw the nearest couch pillow at him.

But a man to his word, he’s happy to accompany you.

Friday arrives and he’s in a deep navy blue blazer combo that makes your throat dry. His eyes also scan you up and down very blatantly.

“You look lovely tonight.” He mutters, and you thank him saying he looks just as amazing.

And he does.

Your sister playfully nudges you with her elbow. “He’s hot.”

Her husband, your brother in law, even jokes that Dave’s a handsome catch.

Which, to your family, he is. Dave is warm, the absolute dream boyfriend anyone could even imagine.

He pulls out your mom’s chair, happily puts up with your dad’s long stories, bonds really fast with your brother in law and is sweet to your little twin nieces who ramble about their soccer matches. Your heart aches just seeing him interact with everyone and how much they already adore him.

The only thing keeping you afloat is that you, nor them, will remember any of this. But it also haunts you.

You smile fake through it all.

Then during dessert Dave’s hand unprompted moves to rest against your leg. His hand on your skin, so close to the edge of your dress, all of this under the cover of the dinner table sends an electric dizzying current across your body.

Slowly his thumb starts rubbing against your skin, softly, delicately like he has all the time in the world or isn’t bothered about your dad complaining about his work buddies again.

You keep your composure as best as you can.

When the check comes Dave quickly snags it up and doesn’t hesitate sliding his card in to pay. It wins huge points with everyone. Your family showers Dave in thanks and warm embraces.

“Like this guy, happy for you.” Your dad says low while he hugs you tight, and you blink back the tears.

“Yeah dad, me too.”

The car ride back to the apartment, you’re silent.

Dave however tries to push through the tension talking all about your family.

“They’re lovely. Your nieces are adorable too. One of them was constantly trying to make me laugh the entire time.”

You smirk while still remaining quiet.

“Hey… you alright?” He of course notices. You also make

no sign of following him back to his apartment.

“Just let me get a few things and I’ll be over in a bit-”

“No Dave, it’s okay. I think I just wanna be alone tonight.”

You cut him off gently.

A moment of silence comes. You’re thankful he doesn’t push, just wishes you goodnight and heads to his apartment.

The silence eats at your insides leaving you empty.

The next morning you don’t wait to walk out with him or even text him. For an entire week you stay quiet and try avoiding him as much as possible.

Then on Monday, flowers wait for you on your desk. All you coworkers coo at the beautiful blooms.

Your heart however melts at the card.

Thinking of you, hope you’re alright.

It’s simple, very Dave.

After work you start typing out a thank you text to send to Dave, including a photo of the flowers.

New footsteps echo in the parking garage, and you don’t think much of them. Until you hear Nick’s slimey voice say your name.

Turning around, he casually saunters with the smuggest sneer.

“You okay? You don’t look too good.” He grins bigger as he continues walking towards you.

He’s just here to scare you, especially since he works close by and now that you put the restraining order on your ex.

Walk away and get to your car, the voice in your head, now sounding so much like Dave, urges.

You turn on your heels and rush to your car.

“You’re such a god damn fucking bitch, you know that?” He yells still behind you.

Calm, you try remaining calm.

Then someone runs up from behind. Everything dissolves into pure fear. You turn around and there Nick rushes forward to you in a frenzied terrifying glee.

Dave suddenly emerges from the other side of another parked car and grabs Nick.

“What the fuck?!” Nick cries. “Where the hell did you come from?”

Dave quietly glares deathly cold at Nick.

Then a snap comes, a popping of bone and Nick screams in pure pain cradling his hand. Dave stares composed, unbothered.

“You broke my fucking fingers, what the fuck?!” Nick snarls.

With his good hand, Nick moves to punch Dave.

You cry out in a panic.

Dave, no…the god of vengeance now before you, in his hand captures Nick’s fist before it can even land a hit, casually holding him back.

Fluidly, with a nightmarish grace, Dave twists Nick’s arm back forcefully in disarming him from an attack. Another crack of bone and Nick cries out again.

The god leans in close to Nick.

“You try harassing my girl again and I will make this much worse.” He says low, lethal.

Nick screams like a caged animal until Dave shoves him away. For a moment you’re terrified Nick is going to charge, try throwing another fist, but he scurries away like a broken little rat.

Dave’s gaze, empty and cold, watches Nick the entire time until he’s gone. Then the mask falls as he rushes to you with the most worried frown.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You are, thanks to him. You’re still trying to process fully what happened.

“What are you doing here?” You manage to ask.

“After that text you sent, I came up to check up on you.” Dave answers.

When you check your phone, he’s right. You had been in the middle of typing out your text to Dave when Nick had showed up. The text became a mess of letters that you had accidentally sent.

“Didn’t seem like you.” Dave adds.

His hand softly drags across your cheek with the most delicate pressure, like moth wings, and it electrifies your heart. Your eyes snap to Dave. His face is harder than ever to read, foggy in thick emotions.

Before he can put you anymore under his spell, you move first. Thanking him for showing up and for protecting you, you return to head back to your car. Dave stays in step with you, offering to drive you home, and you let him.

Quietly you finally thank him for the flowers and apologize for forgetting them.

“It’s fine.” He reassures you. “I’ll just have to send you more.”

His voice soothes you, and you almost grin.

Back at the apartment a mess of feelings get tangled in you.

“Do you need me to stay?”

You shake your head no to Dave.

After a small pause, he wishes you well and a good night.

But you can’t sleep. And Dave continues haunting you. It's why you’re now across the hall knocking on his door after midnight.

He answers quickly. You’re surprised to discover him in the all dark outfit except this time without a beanie and with how wild his short hair looks you wonder if he just yanked it off.

He breathes your name with worried eyes.

“I’m sorry. Can I…stay over?” Your voice is small, worried.

He welcomes you in without hesitation.

You keep your gaze away from his, but that's when you catch the blood on his hands. This time the blood is fresh.

“Are you okay?” You squawk panicked.

“Oh. Uh yeah. Nothing serious.” Dave shrugs.

He effortlessly changes the subject telling you about the new restaurant he wants to try with you.

“Go lay down, honey. I’ll be with you soon.” He urges. You don’t want to fight him. You should but don’t.

In his bedroom you watch him undress for the night. His bare shoulders are stunning and you want to kiss the gorgeous pudge of his soft stomach. The delicate warm light paints him a dream.

“Dave…” you ask, fading in and out of sleep now among the safety of him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you get lonely?” Your words slip out.

He doesn’t answer for a moment.

“Why do you ask that?”

Sleepily you shrug already groggy.

“Just seems like you are.” You admit through a yawn.

You see it in the hollows of his apartment, in the somber looks that create cocoons in his eyes from time to time.

You’re worried you’ve upset Dave with how quiet he gets. Instead his hand moves to turn off the light by the nightstand. You notice he’s holding something else in his grasp.

“Don’t worry about me. Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You nod at his words, closing your eyes.

But before you fall to sleep, you swear you saw Dave holding a phone with an obnoxious neon and black green case… one that looked exactly like Nick’s.

The next morning Dave is gone again, this time leaving you various breakfast bars to take.

Back at your apartment you scroll taking a break from getting ready. Someone posted in their story about Nick not coming home and that no one has heard from him.

You try not to focus on that and head to work.

More flowers, as promised, wait on your desk.

“You’re so lucky.” Your favorite coworker gushes. You weakly grin at her.

The day goes by slowly. Until your sister calls you frantic over the phone.

Your ex had showed up at your nieces school.

You feel sick. Your boss thankfully lets you leave, but you’re barely aware of how your body moves. You even forget the flowers again.

Yet your hands shakily manage to make a call.

“Hope you liked the flowers.” Dave answers smooth, almost purr like.

All you do is croak out his name. In the instant of getting off the elevator, Dave emerges from the shadow of the hallway. You’re thankful no one is around, but then again, you could care less now.

“What happened?” He frowns hard.

Telling him everything, you crumble sobbing in Dave’s arms.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” His sincerely comforting voice and warm arms all wrap around you.

He places a soft kiss on your head.

“Come on, let’s head home.” He guides you to the shadow, holding you tight. In a simple step you’re walking right out into your living room.

So, that’s what it’s like.

Sitting down everything feels too much, yet numbing all at once.

“This is all my fault.” You mutter, vacant.

If you hadn’t dated that fucker, you wouldn’t be here.

“No,” Dave says firmly. His eyebrows are furrowed hard, stern and upset. “None of this is your fault.”

A numb nod is all you give.

The window suddenly shatters. A rock flies into your room and you scream.

“You fucking bitch, I know you did something to Nick!” Your ex howls from outside. “You and that fucking creep boyfriend of yours!”

This can’t be happening. How did he even know you were home?

Dave moves swift. He protectively pulls you further away from the living room. Reaching into the inky shadows, he pulls out a large duffle bag. From that Dave unpacks a firearm. Not just any gun, a sleek sniper rifle. He readies the weapon up and out the window.

It’s a dead threat in the middle of the day. Dave’s face completely composed reminds you of a hunter.

And he’s beautiful.

The sight of Dave and that terrifying weapon must have scared your ex because there’s no sign of him after that. You even delete all your social media now out of fear.

Dave takes care of everything. Discussing the window break with the building's supervisors, even calling the cops to report what happened.

You now sit in Dave’s living room.

“Viðarr.”

You speak his true name, the one that feels incredibly scared and almost too holy on your tongue. The air in the room tightens fast. Dave, who halfway is trying to figure out what to make for dinner, stops.

A grave expression paints him an ancient terror.

Your stare back at him is just as serious.

“I need vengeance.” No more. You can’t handle any more of this.

Dave, quiet, silent as a shadow, nods. That’s all, the agreement of it. It seems so very anticlimactic.

“You know,” he mutters. “By accepting this…you have to give something up.”

Dave had told you about this briefly. Once he accepts a case, takes up the mantle of retribution, it comes at a price. You must offer something up.

“I’ll let you think about it.” He mutters.

But you don’t need to. You shake your head.

Slowly, possessed, yet never feeling more solid in your decision you walk to Dave’s bedroom.

Politely you sit on the bed.

Dave follows you and stares with a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing?”

“Me,” you say low. “I’m offering myself. Whatever you need.”

Dave’s flint eyes go wide. He swallows hard, a small crack in his composed armor.

“That’s…I can’t accept.” His voice croaks.

“Why not?” You frown hard.

He exhales, running a hand over his face.

“Because…you…” he pauses for a moment.

“It’s dangerous to want you the way I do. And accepting… don’t know if I’m strong enough to deny you.”

You inhale sharp.

He removes his hand from his face and now stands a man composed of stardust and beautiful retribution.

“There are other things you can offer.” He offers a weak attempt to persuade you. Yet he slowly walks to you, a hunter before prey.

You shake your head.

Cautiously, now that he stands so close you grab Dave’s hand. Slowly, hesitantly, you guide his hand up to your heart then rest your hand above his.

“This…I’m yours.” You admit weakly.

This is your oath, your sacrifice and offering. Though it does not feel like a burden of an effigy, no source of pain or flames of anguish over this decision.

It almost feels holy and sacred in its simplicity.

Your heart will always follow him, Dave, Viðarr, whichever form or soul he took, yours would be tied to him.

“It’s…that’s not an easy sacrifice.” His voice is thick, laced with a burnt hidden depth you take comfort in.

“For you it is.” You reply.

Something shifts in Dave, like his eyes waver and humanity shines through, a shimmering gloss over.

His hand over your heart moves slowly gliding up your chest, up your neck. His hand on your skin blazes a heated path. Now he cradles your face

“Oh baby….” He hoarsely says, and your world collapses to be reborn in an instant.

“I’m yours.” You whimper.

Dave kisses you with a collision of a star being created. It’s nipping teeth and a fierce passion that immediately has him licking into your mouth as if he’s trying to swallow you whole.

He’s unrelenting, a war general on a mission as his hands immediately start to peel off your clothes.

You now lie only in your underwear on his bed. You should feel exposed, almost awkward that he still wears all his clothes, but for some reason it heightens your arousal. Being bare and laid up for him as offering…

“You swear?” Dave croaks, a final offering for you to back down.

You nod firm and absolute. “I swear.”

He nods.

“Then I'll be your justice for you. All yours, and you’ll be mine.”

Your heart flutters. Revenert, you thank him and whisper his name, a debauched prayer.

Dave pounces on you fast.

He licks a trail up your chest to your neck, biting when he can and you whine.

“So fucking sweet.” He slurs, nibbling at your chest and sucking at your nipple.

His tongue swirling across your skin has your mind melting.

“Open your mouth for me, baby.” But then he quickly demands.

Rising up, Dave leans above you and you willingly open your mouth.

He takes a moment to gaze at you, then effortlessly spits down into your mouth. You feel dizzy when it hits your tongue. You greedily swallow, closing your eyes.

“Good fucking girl.”

That makes you feel even more electrified.

“Oh you like when I call you that huh?” Dave says slurred.

How? How can he tell? Your face must tell him everything as his hands begin to slither all across your body.

“I can smell you.” He whispers thick.

That truth hits you breathless. He’s not a normal man. Of course he would have heightened senses.

“That night… that night you slept in my bed. I smelt you still on your fingers and in my bed.” Dave admits.

You moan half embarrassed and half drunk.

“Almost took you right then and there.” He reveals. His large hand cups your jaw, rubbing his thumb hard across your lips.

“You want more? My good girl wants more, huh?”

“Yeah.” You nod feeling every inhibition slip away.

He kisses down your body then when he reaches your core, he presses his face against you and deep.

Dave groans like he got punched in the stomach.

“Shit, wanna fucking eat you alive.” He slurs, biting at you gently through the fabric of your panties.

“Dave, please.” You squirm wanting more, begging him for him.

“My sweet girl, so polite.” He kisses your pussy over your underwear then rips it apart. You gasp, and he kisses your thigh.

“I’ll buy you more.” Dave mumbles dark.

He drinks all you give you, sends you to a new realm. His fingers fuck into you wild and reckless as he sucks at your clit possessed. It feels like your world is being destroyed in the most beautiful little death. Then his fingers curl against that oh so delicious spot making you scream.

“Yeah baby, give it to me.” He growls.

You come hard clutching at Dave’s hair.

His face glistens, and you feeling possessive now pull him to you. You kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, and it’s divine.

Drunk on this moment, you bring his fingers that were inside of you into your mouth

The thickness of Dave’s fingers, the salt of his skin mixing with your cum, it all has your eyes rolling back.

“Oh fuck yes, good girl, suck on ‘em.” He purrs, moving his fingers in and out.

Soon enough he pushes them back a bit further, making you gag but he urges you on sweetly. He suddenly pulls his fingers into his mouth and sucks them now closing his eyes.

“We taste so good together.” He hoarsely sighs.

“Dave… Vidðarr.” You whisper both his names.

His lips find yours in a blazing force.

This god takes apart your world and carves it new. You’ve never had someone touch you with the reverence of a sacred altar, yet also fuck you raw like you were his to destroy.

Your legs can barely move, and you simply now exist a blissed out puddle on Dave’s bed. But you happily bask in his arms.

“So much for fake dating.” You joke.

Dave smirks against your forehead.

“Stopped being fake a while ago.” He admits, and you curl into him more.

“You know, I’ve wanted to ask.” You shift in his arms to get a better look at his handsome clean shaven face. You feel smug seeing the bite marks, your marks, across his delicious exposed throat.

“How did you even find me?” You ask. He mentioned that sometimes some people pray to him, even try to summon him.

You did none of that. He did tell you once that everyone in your life wished for justice for you, and it’s why he possibly was summoned. But you were never satisfied with that.

Dave exhales. “Your soul called to me. I just answered.”

His words flutter through your chest. You’re the one now leaning forward to kiss him.

But then sorrow tarnishes this moment.

“When…when will you erase my memory?” You just hope he will give you a heads up, let you prepare.

Dave pulls back, and his face is scrunched up in confusion.

“You’re mine now. Don’t need to wipe your memory.”

His words rush into you but in the best way. A relieved sob escapes and you rush to pepper so many kisses across his face.

Dave smirks soaking it all up, a pleased cat in the sun..

Eventually he does get up, and with the shadows that drape over him, he becomes the hands of wrath and retribution. Your vengeance.

Those hands cradle your face tenderly.

“I have to honor my end of the oath. I’ll be back.” Dave doesn’t need to say more, and you don’t need to either. He kisses you softly then melts into the darkness.

The god vengeance doesn’t return until the late night, witching hour.

He’s covered in blood, hauntingly so, but it paints him a warrior.

Dave moves to kneel before you.

Gently, his blood hands place something in your palm. You’re reminded of a cat that brings its owner dead mice to show it can protect and bring you prey.

Instead you discover your ex’s college class ring, the one he was never seen without.

You want to laugh. You want to cry.

Instead you slide out of bed and gently kiss Dave gentle. You wordlessly lead him into the bathroom. With sacred grace you peel off Dave’s clothes.

His eyes, soft and dark, never leave you. In the warm shower, you wash him clean with all the thanks and adoration you can muster.

Dave eventually gathers you in his arms and under the warm, you let it cleanse something deep in you.

Here, you find a new home safe within the arms of vengeance and you hope he never lets you go.

#hi howdy if you’re reading this I truly appreciate & adore you & me and spooky Dave York love you and would give you the world #offering of frith challenge #Dave York x reader #dave york x f!reader #Dave York AU #frith challenge #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york fic #dave 🤎

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catboygretzky · 1 year ago

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i have not read the silm but people always use it to go GLADADRIELS HAIR TO GIMLI can u explain

I wish i could do this without explaining so much of the silmarillion but i refuse to explain the entirety of the silmarillion

the first thing you have to know is that there's an elf called fëanor who was the most important elf of the early first age. he was a big deal. super smart, super talented, and he knew it. absolute cunt of a dude. was he an anti hero? was he simply a villain? idk at the end of the day he was a kinslayer of a cunt that committed atrocious war crimes. but he was smart and talented! (he created the silmarils which - well. as you may be able to guess are also a big deal)

super interesting character though. a 🔥 character, one may say.

so just. keep in mind that fëanor was super great at doing elf things (not so great at being a dad or just. having morals that weren't ambition and arrogance) and he was also galadriel's uncle.

now fëanor was obsessed i mean obsessed with galadriel's hair - literally everyone was.

Even among the Eldar [Galadriel] was accounted beautiful, and her hair was held a marvel unmatched. It was golden like the hair of her father and of her foremother Indis, but richer and more radiant, for its gold was touched by some memory of the starlike silver of her mother; and the Eldar said that the light of the Two Trees, Laurelin and Telperion, had been snared in her tresses. Many thought that this saying first gave to Fëanor the thought of imprisoning and blending the light of the Trees that later took shape in his hands as the Silmarils.

so yeah - pretty impressive hair on a pretty impressive elf. impressive enough to inspire the silmarils creation? maybe.

(everyone was obsessed, but fëanor was obsessed obsessed, there's this whole thing with him and light. see: silmarils, which literally captured the light of the Two Trees of Valinor and quite possibly were inspired by galadriel herself)

NOW fëanor begged for an entire lock of hair, and expected her to agree, three times. galadriel denied fëanor all three times.

to bring gimli back in - if you remember, gimli says his only desire is a single strand of her hair, not expecting to receive it but hey, she asked for what i desire most so!

by this point you may be able to sumise why it's a big deal without me telling you BUT

when galadriel tells him to name his desire and what she should give him, gimli says this

"There is nothing, Lady Galadriel," said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. "Nothing, unless it might be - unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire."

"i do not ask for such a gift, but you commanded me to name my desire" whereas fëanor begged - gimli didn't even ask it of her, just answered her question about his desires.

but to everyone else this was a Big Deal

The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. "It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues," she said; "yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?" "Treasure it, Lady," he answered, "in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days."

the elves went UM WHAT THE FUCK but galadriel just smiled because yeah, it was bold of him to ask, but he expected nothing and the only thing he would use it for would be to fix the (shitty) relationship between dwarves and elves.

so this look? when gimli tells legolas she gave him three hairs?

i'm sure inside he's thinking "holy shit holy shit holy shit", but it's definitely a turning point in their friendship. because well, if galadriel deems him worthy...

and when gimli said the only thing he'd use it for was to fix the relationship between elves and dwarves? HE DID.

and then galadriel let legolas bring gimli into elf heaven.

i'm sure others can say this much more eloquently, but tl;dr: galadriel said 'fuck you fëanor, go gimli go'

#this was long i'm so sorry #gimli #galadriel #the lord of the rings #fëanor #the silmarillion #tolkien #legolas #ask #lotr #gigloras #lord of the rings

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padfootdaredmetoo · 10 months ago

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Tell Me Lies

Tommy Shelby X Wife Reader

Request for @luvlesavyy

Request: What if Thomas found himself in a sticky situation? What if he had to be compelled to pretend that he had betrayed his beloved wife, whom he holds dearly in love with, in order to protect her and their child? What if Tommy received life threatening letters from his gems? He lies to his wife, tells her he cheated on her, all this to keep them away from the harm he can bring to their lives... How would this story end? Would she forgive him after he found the letters, threatening her and her firstborn's lives, in Tommy's office drawer?

(They spent a week apart, and she had constant back pain, Polly said she was pregnant. Now what? Pregnant, with the love of her life, who "cheated" on her. Wonder what she's going to do about it? Will you tell Tommy when you discover the letters?).

Hey love,

Sorry this took so long but I didn't forget about you. I've never been the kind for the silent anger type of thing. Changed a few of the details around but I hope you enjoy this <3 Thanks for being so wonderful!

Warnings: pregnancy, cheating, screaming, passing out, hitting, biting, extreme anger & the usual peaky themes

Tommy was used to the bitter taste of whiskey doing absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. He stares at the telephone wishing that he had just imagined the phone call he had received. He pulled a red package of documents out of the top drawer of his dresser. He had finally been advised to open it. Now that he knows what is being asked of him he wants nothing more than to throw it in the fireplace.

For the first time, he really felt that he was flying too close to the sun. Everything he had started was for his siblings and aunt, now every day was for his wife and child.

How could he turn his back on all of them, on you, even for a second? What could he say to you that would keep you away? If he told you the truth, then Polly and Esme would be dragged into it and all of a sudden it would be a family trip to Austria. His stomach gave a lurch and he put his head in his hands.

He had to lie to you.

He would have to tell you something horrible so you would let go of him for the week-long mission. Then he could come crawling back with the papers as evidence. Sure, he would spend the rest of his life on the couch in his study, but at least you would be safe, at least you would still be his.

He could try to refuse.

How many wives and children would die if he did? Would you want to be married to that man? Looking at the papers in the file it was his own family on the chopping block if he refused.

“Fuck” He swore slamming his hands against his desk.

______________________________________________________________

“What’s wrong.” You said looking at him with sharp eyes. You could tell just by the way he held himself that he had gone and done something stupid.

“I have to go away for a bit.” His eyes were focused on you in a way that made it hard to look away.

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you.” He said firmly and you could tell your husband wanted you to accept this answer.

“I’m your wife. Spit it out, Tommy.” You said crossing your arms. You hadn't been in this position since you were dating. Once married in you were at every meeting, involved in every dollar, and every conflict. Okay, you weren't directly involved in every conflict but you helped out in areas that weren't covered with gunfire.

“Look, something's come up and I need to see to it, I really don't want to -”

“I don’t care what you want Thomas. Do what’s right and tell me.” The anxiety was starting to bubble up and turn into rage the way it always did. You hated when people lied to you.

“I got a phone call last night. Someone I may have had an entanglement with has had a child. She’s saying it’s mine.” The words fell between you and you knew something was off. You assumed he was just hiding the juicy details of his affair. Now a child is out there. Whose child would he father? His wife’s or his mistress?

You stood there feeling a familiar hysteria build up inside you. This time you didn't have to push it down. Charlie was with Esme and the cousins for the night. You could make him pay.

The feeling started to radiate into your limbs and you were freed from your initial shock. You picked up the crystal vase on the side table beside the couch. You threw it at him.

Head on where he was sitting at his desk. He narrowly missed it. His eyes flared with shock. You picked up every single thing you could reach and threw it at him. He stood up and charged towards you and you welcomed it.

You wanted him to hit you first. You wanted blood. It was your turn to cause trouble. He tried to grab your arms and you smacked his chest as hard as you could. He got his arms around you and you bit into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Hope his mistress likes that scar.

You screamed at him. You told him every single bad thing you could think of. You told him he was the reason the family was cursed. That his mother killed herself to get away from him. You screamed your own curse on his life.

You screamed and screamed until you cried. A deep sob that unraveled years of strength. Everything you had done for this family, just to be replaced as Lizzie once said you would be.

This was beyond anger and betrayal. This was beyond human. You felt your mind become otherworldly and your vision narrowed in. The blackened edges of your vision collided and you weren't screaming anymore. You had dissolved into nothingness and it was blissful.

______________________________________________

You woke up and he was gone. The family was in complete chaos over the news. Arthur was actually crying on and off, apologizing for his stupid little brother. He and John held the business together under Polly’s direction.

Polly eventually sat you down and told you the news once everyone had come to say they were sorry and how they would be helping. It was like being a widow at a funeral.

A pregnant widow.

“You're joking.” You took in a sharp breath. “And that is not very funny at a time like this.” Your voice was high and she grabbed your face with two hands.

“It’s not a joke. You’ll be fine.” Her eyes were so intense it put you at ease.

Esme reassured you and decided to stay with you at Arrow House for a while. The kids were used to being lumped together and they had no problem looking after themselves for the most part. Charlie was 6 so he didn't have a hard time keeping up with his cousins.

The two of you rot in bed and she did what she could to keep your blood pressure from rising. You could see it in her eyes though, she was pissed as hell and you were sure she would make Tommy feel it too when the time came.

If he ever came back. Your heart gave a painful clench and while you were alone in the bath there was no one to judge you for crying. It was a soft moment you allowed yourself. It felt shameful, it felt like letting him win. It was stupid but you felt like you were just a girl getting your heart broken again. This time it felt final. Your heart would not survive this.

But your family loved you. That was obvious from the cooked meals and even Arthur was around helping with the kids at bedtime. You could hear him and John reenacting all the monsters they fought when they had lived on the boat as kids. You even caught yourself laughing a few times at the wild stories.

It was almost a week since that night and you were starting to feel just as betrayed but you had your head back on your shoulders. In the middle of the night, you decided to see if this woman had written him any letters. You weren't sure why but you were obsessed with finding out who this woman was. Why could she steal him away from you so easily when you had done nothing but give him everything?

You went into his study and shut and locked the door. While you turned the latch you wondered where they had sex? Was it here? The office? The backseat of his car? The rage started to bubble up again and a hand went to your stomach. You took some deep breaths thinking about what a divorce would mean.

His - scratch that, your family would still love you. You would get to pick a new house and decorate it however you wanted. Fill it full of books and do nothing other than look after Charlie and read. You took another big breath and moved over to his desk.

You pulled open the drawers in his desk and started to pick through everything. You knocked on the bottom of the first drawer when you saw that the woodwork didn't quite line up. You remembered from all your spy novels that it could have a false bottom. You grabbed a letter opener and started to pry it open.

It came loose with a pop and you pulled out lots of extra copies of passports and documentation for your family. A cold shudder ran through you. You picked up your fake passport to see that he had named you, Arbella Shelby, maiden name Sutherland. You let out a snort as that was a character in a Highlander romance novel you adored. Why would he remember something so stupid when he was plowing another woman the whole time.

You reached into the hidden compartment a little further and pulled out a red envelope. It was made with very expensive card stock. You opened it and read through the document carefully.

He had been sent away to aid in the assassination of an English spy hiding in Austria.

Your brain hurt and you took another few breaths and kept reading.

It only got worse. Any outside interference would result in death. Failure to complete the mission would result in his death. Failure to accept the assignment and the government will move forward with prosecuting the remaining members of the Shelby family for acts against the crown. You read down the list of names and ran a finger over your name, following it was the rest of the family. You also noticed that Esme and John’s older kids were on the list.

He needed to leave without us going to find him.

He lied to protect you.

It got hard to breathe and you had to try and remain calm. You let out a weird sort of choking sound then threw up into a plant pot. Polly found you moments later.

“Breathe.” You let her grip your shoulders and tried to follow her breathing but your vision went dark again and you were out.

_______________________________________________

When you woke up Polly was pacing the room and shouting at someone in a hushed voice.

“You should have told us.” She hissed. “What if something had happened to you.”

“Churchill would have sent the news. Then she would know what had happened.” Tommy answered in a low and steady voice. He sounded exhausted.

“What if you had failed! They would have shipped us off to jail again.” She snapped. “She almost lost the baby over this mess Thomas.”

“Only if I had refused the job,” Tommy answered and he sounded so tired. You opened your eyes and watched them stare each other down.

“Promise me it won't happen again.” You mumbled.

“I wish I could.” He closed his eyes and looked positively exhausted.

“Let me talk to Churchill.” Your whisper still conveying your anger. Tommy gave you a big smile. You finally registered how battered his face was.

“I have papers saying you lot won't be used as collateral again.” He held his whiskey glass up to his cheek.

“Tommy, if i thought that the family and our children would get killed I would manage to stay away.” You said knowing that tears were starting to spill down your cheeks. Polly took in a breath and you knew she was going to lay into him properly now that you were awake.

“I’m sorry.” He said simply. His eyes opened and locked on yours. You knew he meant it. Shock crossed Polly’s face.

“I didn't think you knew those words.” She said waving her hand in the air.

“Okay.” You said not wanting to be apart for a moment longer. There was ringing in your ears and you knew he was sorry. You knew he wouldn't do it again. Tommy was a lot of things, but he never hurt you the same way twice. He always learned from his mistakes.

You started taking some deep breaths trying to get your head to stop throbbing. Esme came through with a mug of tea and Tommy put his drink down to help you into an upright position.

“Tea will help with the headache.” She said her eyes darting to Tommy.

“Esme?” He said calmly.

“What.” She answered looking skeptical.

“Thanks for looking after her.” He held her gaze and she nodded at him. The rest of the family piled in and discussed the events of the past week. The tea brought the ringing in your ears and the throbbing in your head down to a normal level.

Charlie came through and climbed up on his father's lap. Tommy’s arm fit around him and he continued talking about what needed to happen moving forward when dealing with Mosley.

You had hope for his cause. You rested in his arms and found your way back to him out of the darkness that had been threatening to swallow you.

#tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders request #peaky blinders fic

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merrybloomwrites · 24 days ago

Text

The Only Way of Knowing You (Chapter 4)

Story Summary: After a chance encounter, Y/N finds herself on a series of dates with Harry Styles. She shares with him her innocence regarding physical intimacy, and he takes his responsibility in teaching her all about that very seriously.

Chapter summary: This chapter contains a night of babysitting, and a night of passionate and clumsy firsts, all of which leads to a realization for Y/N.

Word Count: 3.6K

CW: oral (f and m receiving)

AN: I made up a lot of character for this story and haven’t mentioned them since chapter one so quick reminder of the cast list. Kyra is readers sister, Brian is Kyra’s husband, Wyatt is their daughter and Jasper is their son. Also, I names Gemma’s baby Adeline for the purpose of this story.

—————-

Waking up in Harry’s bed, his arm slung lightly across your waist, just feels right. Maybe that’s why sleepovers start becoming a normal occurrence after that first spontaneous night together.

Those nights tend to be grossly domestic, the two of you making dinner together in comfy clothes followed by an evening stroll around the neighborhood. You’d started watching a new show, saving episodes in order to view them together.

While most of the time is spent with innocent fun and conversation, there’s still the physical aspect of your relationship. Kisses come easily now, from little pecks to say good morning, to make out sessions that end with you grinding in Harry’s lap or having his fingers finding places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed.

All in all, things are going very well.

It’s Wednesday evening, and you’re home alone getting your things ready for work the next morning when your phone rings. Seeing Harry on the other line, you quickly answer, greeting him with a happy, “Hi honey.”

“Hi baby, how was your day?”

That’s how it always is with him, always checking on you and wanting to know how you’re doing. It makes you feel so happy, to be so seen by him.

“My day’s been good, better now that I can hear your voice,” you answer truthfully. A few months ago you could’ve cringed at that statement, but now that you're in your first committed relationship, things like that feel natural to say.

“Well that I agree with,” he replies.

“What’s up?” You ask, sensing he has a reason for the call. While you of course spend time talking on the phone, normally you text first to make sure the other is free for a chat.

“Gemma is wondering if you and I could babysit Friday night,” he says.

“Both of us?” You question.

“Honestly, I think she just wants you because you’re experienced with your niece but thought I might get offended so she asked for the two of us,” he replies with a laugh.

“I’m sure she trusts you, but you’re her baby brother. Hard to shake the thought that you’re still just a kid. Kyra was the same way the first couple times I watched Wyatt.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he says.

“But I’m definitely in for some babysitting. Kyra and Brian took the kids on a vacation for two weeks and I am missing kiddo time. Is it an overnight or just the evening?”

“They’re doing dinner and a show so 5 until 10 or so.”

“Sounds perfect!”

With that settled, the two of you talk for a little while longer before wishing each other a good night.

On Friday afternoon Harry picks you up and the two of you stop to grab the takeout he’d ordered.

You arrive at Gemma’s house and you’re greeted by Michal holding baby Adeline.

“Gems is just finishing her makeup, she’ll be down to give you all the instructions soon,” he says, passing the little girl to her Uncle Harry.

As promised, Gemma comes down a few minutes later, and after greeting you both she holds her daughter and begins to tell you everything you need to know for the evening.

“She gets a pouch and some banana at 6 and then she should be in the bath at about 7:30. Don’t worry about like, scrubbing her clean or anything, it’s more about routine and calming her down for bedtime. There’s a bottle in the fridge, so just throw that in the warmer. After bath make sure she’s dry. She has this rash on the back of her knees so use the ointment that’s on the changing table. I set out her jammies and her sleep sack so get her dressed and then feed her the bottle while rocking and she should fall asleep. If she fusses at all there’s dummy’s on the edge of the crib. What else?”

“I think you’ve covered it, sweetie,” Michal says, wrapping his arm around her reassuringly.

She laughs nervously and says, “Sorry, it’s my first time leaving her with anyone other than mum.”

“I completely understand,” you say. “We’re not offended that you’re a bit anxious, but I can tell you that you have nothing to worry about. We will take excellent care of your little girl.”

Soothed by your words and your confident demeanor, Gemma gives Adeline one more snuggle before passing her back to Harry and heading out the door.

The night goes smoothly, you and Harry working together to keep the little one happy. She’s a chill baby, appeased by the simplest tactics, even as bedtime nears. Just as Gemma said, she falls asleep in Harry’s arms as he feeds her the bottle and he carefully transfers her to her crib. While you wait for the parents to get home, Harry shows you some music he’s working on.

This is a newer development, him trusting you with something so personal to him, and you don’t take this trust lightly. You listen, amazed by the process of songwriting, and give your feedback when asked.

All in all, it’s a successful and easy night of babysitting. The hardest part, you admit to yourself, is watching Harry interact with his niece. Even though you try not to, your traitorous mind can’t help but imagine that this is what he’d be like if the two of you have children. So kind, and gentle, and deeply in love with them.

It makes your heart ache, and you realize that you are in love with this man. Not the Harry Styles persona that he gives to the world, but the kind, loving family man that he is at his core. This thought scares you. You’ve never felt anything like this before. So while you’re sure of your feelings, you keep them to yourself, just for now.

The next night you end up at Harry’s house. This is becoming more common, though he enjoys visiting your apartment as well, always saying that he loves how cozy it is.

But cozy as your place may be, it does not have the comfiest king sized bed ever created. Because that can only be found in Harry’s bedroom.

You’d finally gone to Le Petit Chateau after the fiasco of your last attempt, and the wait was worth it. Dinner was delicious, and you always enjoy an excuse to get dressed up. Especially when Harry is dressing up as well. He looks good in anything, of course, but you absolutely adore the way he looks in a suit.

Which is why it’s no surprise that you end up in the bedroom immediately upon arriving home. He’d driven tonight with one hand on the steering wheel, his other sliding under the fabric of your dress to rest teasingly on your upper thigh. Any pretense that the night would end innocently was gone the moment his finger slipped up just enough to run along your panties.

He’s behaved long enough for you to arrive safely at his place, kick off your shoes by the door, and make it to his room. Once inside though, there’s no holding back.

Harry sits on the end of the bed, pulling you to him and you hike up your skirt so you can straddle his thighs. The kiss is dirty, messy, your tongues sliding together as you run your hands through his soft hair. You want to feel more of him so you quickly push at his jacket. He gets the message and slides it off while you start unbuttoning his shirt.

If he’s surprised by how forward you’re being, he keeps it quiet. Once his chest is bare, you slide your fingers along the smooth skin, running them gently over the muscles. You’re addicted to the feeling, suddenly wanting more, wanting all barriers between you gone.

Suddenly, you get an idea. Something new you want to try. Something you’d always been scared of, maybe grossed out by the thought of, but with Harry it doesn’t seem so daunting.

You pull back, leaving your lips close enough to tease for a moment, and then you slide to the floor. Kneeling now, you place your hands on his thighs and look up at him through your eyelashes.

“What are you doing baby?” he asks.

“I want to try something. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he replies, though you can see he’s still confused. He trusts you though, so when you start to unbutton his pants he doesn’t question anything, just shifts enough so you can remove the rest of his clothes. After tossing everything to the side, you look back at him, drinking in the sight of him naked in front of you.

It literally has your mouth watering, which is perfect for the activity you have in mind.

“I want to try something. Just, tell me to stop if you don’t like it. Or feel free to give tips,” you say.

“I’m sure I’m going to love whatever you do, sweetheart. Don’t stress, alright?”

“Alright,” you answer quietly. You take a deep breath, scanning Harry’s body once more before encouraging him to open his legs. Once you have enough room, you shift forward so you’re nestled between them.

You wrap your hand around his hard length, and begin to stroke him just the way he taught you. After a moment you take a deep breath. You hesitate a little longer but when you see Harry’s kind eyes watching you curiously, you get the last bit of bravery you need.

Leaning in, you finally open your mouth. You lightly lick the tip of Harry’s cock, and he shouts, “Fuck, baby!” You’re sure it’s a cry of pleasure, but you glance up just to make sure.

“Do that again, love,” he says. You follow his direction and then move to lick the rest of his dick, exploring him with just your tongue. After you spend some time doing that, you open your mouth wider, engulfing the tip in your mouth.

Harry groans as you do this, clearly enjoying your ministrations. You try to take more of him in your mouth, going as far as you can but Harry stops you, saying, “Don’t try to take all of me. Use your hand for the bottom.”

You pull back slightly, wrapping your hand around his base.

“That’s so good, sweetheart. Just like that,” he says, and you're delighted to hear he’s starting to sound breathless. You concentrate on the tip for a moment before swallowing him down again and he cries out. His hips thrust up, before he quickly pulls away. You gasp a breath and he cups your cheeks saying, “So sorry, didn’t mean to choke you. You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re doing so good. You feel amazing,” he says, and you preen at the compliment. Having caught your breath, you go back to what you were doing, and can tell Harry is quickly approaching his orgasm. He warns you that he’s about to come and you pull your mouth off, now using just your hand. You’re not quite ready for him to finish in your mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

You continue to stroke him, twisting just right and sending him over the edge. He moans loudly as his cock twitches and spurts lines of cum that land on your hand and drip down your wrist. You work him through his orgasm and pull away when he hisses in sensitivity. You look at the liquid on your hand, and after debating for a moment you bring it up to your mouth and take a tentative lick.

“Fuck,” Harry says and his cock gives a halfhearted twitch against his leg. “You have no idea how hot you are. And that mouth is absolutely sinful. Can’t believe you’ve never done that before.”

“So it was good?” you ask, leaning into the hand that Harry has gently cupped on your cheek.

“I was bloody fantastic. C’mon, let's get you off the floor. Are your knees okay? Not too sore? And your jaw, does it feel alright?”

“I’m fine, Harry,” you answer with a laugh. He grabs a shirt off the floor and uses it to clean your hand and then helps you onto the bed.

“Lay down, baby, let me take care of you now. Say thank you for that fucking perfect blowie.”

You lay down and blush at his words, hiding your face in your hands, but he’s having none of that. He gently moves them out of the way and leans in to kiss you. You go pliant under him, letting him lead the kiss and just enjoying the feeling. His tongue swirls around yours, making you dizzy with pleasure.

He begins to kiss a trail down your body, starting with your cheeks, going down to your neck and then your cleavage. You arch your back, pushing your chest out and he plays with the strap of your dress.

“May I?” he asks, and you quickly nod, too intrigued by what is going to happen next to be self conscious. He lowers the straps of your dress, bringing down the fabric until your whole chest is revealed to him. He begins kissing there as well, before swirling his tongue around a nipple. He sucks it into his mouth, and it’s an odd sensation, but definitely a good one. He does the same on the other side before pulling away and moving lower.

He kneels on the bed in between your legs and asks, “Can I eat you out?”

“Excuse me?” You ask, unsure of what he means.

He chuckles at your confusion and then says, “Can I go down on you?”

When it’s obvious that you still don’t know what he means, Harry crawls back up so he’s hovering on top of you. His lips brush against your ear and he murmurs, “May I please lick your pussy until you come?”

“That’s a thing?” You practically shout and Harry barks out a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. You’re just too cute. And how do you know what blowjobs are, and how to give an excellent one I might add, and not realize that women can get pleasure from another person's mouth as well?”

“I mean, logically blowjobs make sense. It’s the same concept as sex. Like, they stimulate in the same way. But I don’t understand how a woman can be stimulated with a mouth. It’s way different than sex.”

“It is different. But still good in its own unique way. Can I show you? Obviously we won’t if you’re uncomfortable or don’t want to. But I think you’ll be surprised,” he says.

“You don’t think it’s gross?” You ask. You know what it looks like down there, and can’t imagine why someone would want to put their mouth there. Granted you’d always thought the same thing about penises, but it seemed less icky when it was Harry.

“It’s not gross at all. Nothing about you could ever be gross.”

“Okay,” you say a moment later.

“Okay?”

“Yea. We can try it. What uhm, what do I do?”

“You just lay back and look pretty. Let me take care of you and make you feel good. And as always, if you want me to stop just tell me and we stop right away.”

Following his directions, and trying to not get too in your own head, you lay back on the pillows. He goes back to kissing you, his mouth moving against yours before traveling down your chest once again. You try to get lost in the feeling and let yourself enjoy what he’s doing, but you can’t get comfortable.

Realizing it’s your dress that’s bothering you and you push Harry back gently.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“My dress is pinching me.” You answer. Harry is there, kneeling between your legs, still naked, and you buck up the courage to say, “Can you help me take it off?”

“You’re sure?”

“I am,” you say, sitting up so he can get to the zipper. His hands land on your shoulders, rubbing gently along your upper back for a moment before finding the zipper. He slowly pulls it down, giving you an opportunity to stop him, but you don’t. You want this. It may be scary, being completely bare, but this is Harry. You want to be open with him.

He lifts the dress over your head and gently folds it before placing it on the ground. It warms your heart that even in this moment, he’s so careful with your belongings.

“Lay back,” he says, his hands guiding you onto the pillows once more. He gently strokes at your newly exposed tummy before placing kisses to it.

“This too?” He asks, his fingers now running along the waistband of your panties.

Resisting the urge to take a nervous breath, you reply with a confident sounding yes. He pulls them off, his eyes watching the fabric move down your legs, not immediately looking at your now bare genitals.

There’s a moment of nervous anticipation before he finally looks at the most private part of your body. Before your anxiety rises he says, “Beautiful. You’re absolutely perfect.”

Your entire body heats up at the compliment, and you resist the urge to hide your face behind your hands. As though reading your mind, Harry says, “No point in getting all bashful, you’re going to be hearing compliments like that from me all the time. Better get used to it.”

“I think I can live with that.”

“Good. Now let me work, you’ve never experienced the joy of being eaten out and I plan to remedy that.”

You can’t help but giggle at his statement, still loving how casual and fun he makes all of this feel, rather than serious and intimidating. All thoughts leave your mind, however, when his kisses move to your inner thighs, his breath ghosting over your overheated core and making you shiver.

When his lips wrap about your clit, you arch off the bed and shout out in pleasure and surprise. You’d thought the friction of him rubbing there felt good, but this wet, hot suction? Possibly the best thing you’ve ever experienced in your life.

He then moves his tongue through your folds, lapping at your wetness in a way that should be gross, but is truly so incredibly hot. He switches between licking and sucking, greatly enjoying himself if the noises he’s making are anything to go by.

And then he sticks his tongue inside you. And it’s game over. His nose is angled just perfectly on your clit, and his tongue gives you just the right stimulation to have you seeing stars. More wetness gushes out as you ride out your orgasm, and Harry doesn’t hesitate to lap up all of your juices.

He sponges kisses all over your body while you catch your breath before finally coming up to hover over you, his eyes meeting yours.

“How was that?” he asks.

“That was…wow…it was-” you cut yourself off, truly unable to form words to describe the experience.

“That good huh?” he says cockily and you both laugh together.

“It was. It was that good, Harry,” you say once you’re able to say a full sentence.

“Wanna take a bath with me?” is his next question.

“Obviously I do,” you answer, and he kisses you quickly before jumping out of bed and going into the attached bathroom.

He comes back after a minute and picks you up, cradling you in his arms as he carries you to the tub that’s now full with warm bubbly water. Harry places you in before sliding behind you and you lean back against him.

It’s relaxing, few words spoken as you rest together and clean each other up. When the water turns cool Harry gets out to grab towels and robes for each of you. He helps you stand and dries you off before helping you into a robe. You stand together in the bathroom brushing teeth and washing faces before going back into the bedroom.

“Would you like to borrow some pajamas?” he asks.

You hesitate, trying to decide what you want. Normally you’d immediately answer yes, but being completely naked alongside him earlier had felt so nice, so freeing. Part of you craves that skin to skin contact. But it’s out of character for you, and you’re not sure how he would react to that.

Deciding to not explain yourself, you simply remove your robe and climb into bed, hoping he’ll get the message. He watches you and takes off his robe as well, giving you a look as though asking if that’s what you want. You nod in reply and he gets into bed as well, laying on his back so you can tuck against his side. You rest your head on his chest and he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You get lost in your mind, thinking about these new sexual encounters you’ve had with Harry. Up until now, nothing more than a tampon had ever entered you, and now he has. If you can feel so connected to him when it’s just his fingers or his tongue, what will he be like when it’s his cock? How close will you feel then? How good will it be to physically merge your bodies, especially when you’re so emotionally tied? You want to find the answer to these questions. Soon.

A press of lips to your head brings you out of your thoughts and you look up so you can share a kiss.

“Good night, baby,” Harry says.

“Good night,” you reply. As you drift off to sleep in Harry’s arms, you can’t help but think that it really was a good night indeed.

————

AN: Thank you for reading this chapter! Final chapter is next Friday and then my next series will be One Direction x reader (ABO pack fic)

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction

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berryhobii · 1 year ago

Text

7 Different Sheets (BTS OT7 x Reader)

Pairing: NonIdol!BTS x black!female reader

Word Count: 3,897

Warnings: Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), multiple partners, unprotected s*x(please be safe and speak with your partners before doing this), public s*x, spanking, oral(m and f receiving), doggy style, missionary, riding, mentions of a mating press, reader does a split on someone’s 🍆🫣, intimate s*x, car s*x, múltiple orgasms(m and f receiving), mentions of STD testing, mentions of being arrested, weed smoking(reader is alluded to have smoked but it’s not explicitly mentioned), overstimulation, praise, degradation, choking, gagging, panty in mouth stuffing, restraints(wrists), mentions of a break up, i also might have gotten the tiniest bit carried away with Namjoon’s part hehe, he definitely has me in a chokehold

A/N: Hi there! I’m here with my take on Seven by Jungkook ft Latto! I’m pretty sure someone requested something like this but now I can’t find the ask so hopefully they see this! I decided to include all of the boys in this. I absolutely love Latto and her verse in the song was just so good! And how could I not write gratuitous fuck buddy smut? I’m always open to criticism and please feel free to tell me what you think. Thanks so much. Stay safe💜

You had 7 fuck buddies.

Each of them were entirely different. Different jobs, different styles, different ways they liked to fuck you.

Just how did you fit all of them into your schedule?

Mondays were for Jimin.

You met him while out shopping with your friends. He worked at a luxury jewelry store. While your friends were busy staring at different charm bracelets, your eyes were focused on the rings on his hands—the way he twisted them whenever he was waiting for a customer to make a decision, how they glimmered under the bright lights, and especially how they’d look wrapped around your throat. Would they leave marks? Would he finger you with them on? Would your ass sting whenever he laid a harsh smack on it? So many thoughts yet so little answers.

“Does that feel good, my pretty slut?”

No words were in your head, your mouth stuffed with the panties he had ripped off of you. All you could get out were muffled moans and muffled calls of his name. Salvia soaked the material as much as your arousal did when you walked in his job, the fabric heavy on your tongue and slightly choking you which gave you a rush.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, his rings adding a pleasurable burn that made your juicy walls hug him impossibly tighter.

“Fuck.” He groaned out, eyes never leaving how your ass clapped back on him, cock coated in your creamy release. Sweat dripped down your back making your dark skin look like the most decadent chocolate, glistening like the gems displayed in the case below you. But not even those could compare to you when you were bent over like this.

Your hand slammed down on the display case, the sturdy counter shaking under the force.

Your walls spasmed around him, signaling your 5th orgasm since you came to visit him on his break.

His hand that wasn’t holding your hip moved to wrap around your throat, hauling your body up until you were arched. You felt unstable on your feet but Jimin was your rock, holding you up before your knees could give out of you.

He applied medium pressure to your throat, just barely pressing into your windpipe, stealing some of your already sparse oxygen from you. You felt dizzy like you were on a rollercoaster but one that never went down. Only up. And it was climbing and climbing until….

“This neck would look so pretty with a new necklace on it. Don’t you agree?” That low tone was enough to hurdle you right off the edge, eyes rolling back as you shook like a leaf in his hold.

And yes, your neck did look pretty in a new necklace.

Tuesdays were for Seokjin.

You met him at a wedding. Your “date” had gotten a little too friendly with the open bar which immediately turned you off. Not that you were that turned on to begin with. The man was nothing to write home about. Just someone who happened to approach you in a coffee shop.

After successfully detaching yourself from him, you were getting ready to leave before you caught the eye of Seokjin. He was tall and broad with a face you’d love to sit on. Respectfully, of course.

Conversation flowed easily between you two. He was a proper gentleman with a goofy laugh that made you smile. He was definitely the type of person your parents would love for you to bring home. Polite and respectful and not bad on the eyes either.

But that gentleman act went out of the window when he got you in his bed.

“Jin! I can’t take it!” You screamed, yanking at the restraints on your wrists that were keeping you stationary. You were surprised you hadn’t broken his headboard from how hard you were jerking. His neighbors were probably tired of the slamming against the wall by now, their own calls for you two to pipe down died down a while ago. Let them call the police. You’d be damned if they put you in cuffs before you got Seokjin’s cock inside of you.

He was nestled between your legs, holding your thighs back to have more access to your cunt. His tongue never stopped its assault on your clit, abusing the bud until your entire body was shaking. Your legs would jerk to try and close with every lick but one firm look from him quickly put you in your place.

His plush lips were soaked with your juices, dark eyes staring at you as if you had just personified from his dreams. You might as well have.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good. I could eat it all day.” It sure felt like he has been. Your pussy felt both numb and electric at the same time. Sensitivity wanted to push him away but a desperate part of you was pushing you towards another orgasm. “You’ll be a good girl and give me another one, won’t you? You’re always my good girl.”

Fuck yes you were. Fat tears rolled down your face when he dove back in, sucking your clit in between his lips, his tongue flicking over it faster than before. Back arching, you screamed bloody murder as the strongest orgasm of the night engulfed your body.

Placing one more kiss on your throbbing bud, Seokjin backed up to let you breathe, stroking your thighs and whispering sweet nothings to you as you came down. Body still tingling from your release, you could barely blink through your blurry vision before you felt a shift on the bed.

A hand nestled in your sweaty hair, silk press gone to waste. You blinked through your tears, looking up to find Seokjin hovering over you, his knees on either side of your shoulders. His cock stiff and right in your face, the tip leaking precum.

He smirked down at you.

“Open wide, darling.”

Wednesdays were dedicated to Hoseok.

Honestly, you met Hoseok on a dating app. He was meant to be a quick one night stand since you were growing tired of your vibrator. After scrolling through a bunch of profiles and responding to a few messages, you came across him. He was a paralegal but apparently, he taught dance classes on the weekends which told you he definitely knew how to move. His photos were a sharp contrast to his job; bright and with him always smiling. He even had a picture of his dog on there which made you smile.

He was cute though and perhaps he’d be a fun night.

The pillow did barely anything to cover your screams, not when there was so much happening at once. You tossed it to the side, allowing your eyes to adjust to the glorious sight above you.

Hoseok’s head was tossed back in ecstasy, lip pulled between his teeth as he needlessly tried to keep quiet. You wanted to hear those noises, the way he cursed whenever you purposefully clenched around him.

“Hmpf, shit.” Just like that.

The pulses of the vibrator in your hand was making your arm numb but it was sending the most delicious vibes through your clit so whatever.

“Hobi…..”You called making him finally open his eyes and tilt his head forward to look down at you. You could have cum right there from how sexy he looked—sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead, his chest littered in love bites you had obsessively sucked into his skin, and of course, the thin silver chain around his throat that bounced with every thrust. Take the wheel, Carrie Underwood.

He leaned forward, both of his hands moving from your thighs to place next to your head. His hips never faltered, keeping their languid pace rolling into you.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I…..I….can I cum?” Everything was moving so slowly. He had put the vibrator on its lowest setting so it wasn’t doing much for you and with this slow pace, he was prolonging your orgasm further than you wanted it to be. That was the thing about Hoseok. He liked it slow and intimate, going for hours until he brought both of you over the edge.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his chain tickling your nose.

“Not yet, my flower. Hold it a little longer for me.”

A particularly deep roll of his hips caused him to stroke slowly past your sweet spot, pulling a whimper from you.

Your bottom lip quivered, eyes tearing up from your waning orgasm. It kept building and falling but it wasn’t enough to push you over. And with everything that happened today, you think this is exactly what you needed.

A gentle touch.

“But….”

He shushed you with a peck to your lips. “Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

Thursday’s were for Namjoon.

You met him at the gym. Don’t get it twisted. You weren’t really there to work out. Those few squats you did every couple of months were enough. That wasn’t the reason you had signed up for a membership.

It was because of the buff and drop dead sexy man that you often saw lifting weights. What exactly was the point of that tank top? Modesty? It looked like it was only soaking up the sweat that dripped down his honey kissed skin but it was failing at that too. Your tongue could do a better job. You’d lick every inch of that man for free and cook him a meal afterwards.

The steam of the shower was making it hard to breathe but Namjoon’s cock was making it even harder. When people told you to breathe through your nose, they factored out the cock being an absolute monster. You thought your jaw was gonna snap off.

Your nails dug into his yummy thighs, feeling the muscles tightened with every push of his cock into your warm and inviting mouth. You were definitely riding these things once you got back to his place.

“Damn, relax your throat, love.”

You happily followed his instructions, swallowing before exhaling through your nose. That allowed him to slide all the way home, your nose tickling the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock. Your eyes watered from the welcomed intrusion.

“Look at me.” He commanded from above you, the low tone of his voice making your pussy clench. Damn. Being a housewife sounded incredibly good right now. Patriarchy be praised.

Your eyelashes fluttered, looking at him and the sight was absolutely glorious. If he didn’t fuck you right now, you’d probably implode.

He must have seen that through your gaze because a dopey smile stretched across his face, adorable dimples indenting his cheeks.

Pulling out of your throat, you coughed and sputtered, swallowing a few times to soothe your sore throat. You barely had time to really cover before he was grabbing your arm and hauling you up. Legs draped over his buff arms, your arms scrambled to wrap around his shoulders. Now this position was the reason why bitches pull up to your mother’s house looking for you. You could feel the head of his cock sliding against your sopping cunt, your walls clenching in delight of finally getting what you want.

“Ready, baby?” He whispered in your ear before sucking on your lobe.

And no, you didn’t renew your gym membership.

Fridays were for Taehyung.

Funny enough, you met Taehyung while he was sneaking out of your apartment building. He was leaving a one night stand’s place and bumped into you while you were on your way inside. Of course, you could smell sex a mile away and the walk of shame was heavy on his shoulders. He actually tried hitting on you when he saw you, his eyes never leaving your cleavage.

You thought he was incredibly handsome though—a pretty boy type which you definitely liked. So you stopped him, told him to come back to you with a clean STD test and then you’d talk.

Taehyung had to will himself not to cum when you did a full split on his cock. Your hands kept your leverage on his knees, your head lolled forward from how his long cock was kissing your cervix each time, your legs stretched all the way out to give him the best view of his life.

He’s already cum twice, third orgasm almost painful but he just couldn’t stop. He didn’t want you to stop either(as if you could). You’ve been horny all day and you were going to get your fill of his cock. He knew you needed morning sex to get through the day yet he decided to go in for a shift at work, leaving you sad and desperate. The moment he walked in the door, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pushing him on the rug in your living room. You didn’t even prep yourself and he was hard while driving to your place anyway so foreplay was unnecessary today. Maybe you’d ride his face later and you’d use that headband he was wearing as reigns.

Until then, you were going to ride his dick until he gave out. Or until you got tired, whichever came first.

“I’m gonna cum again. Slow down. Please.” He whimpered, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

You whipped your hair behind you, the tips of your braids resting on his stomach. “Hmmm, give it to me, Tae. Fill me up again.” You leaned forward, bringing your hips all the way up to his tip before slamming back down. His cock was creamy with both of your releases, a wet smack sounding everytime you came down.

If this was how he died, put it on his tombstone.

“Oh shiiiiiiii….”His head thumped back against the floor, toes curling as you forced another orgasm out of him, the pulsing of his cock triggering your own.

You barely gave him time to calm down before you started your pace again.

He’d pick up another shift next Friday.

Saturdays were for Yoongi.

It was actually your favorite day of the week when you got to see the weed dealer. Not really because he let you smoke for free but because high sex was just another level. You met him when you were out one night. He catcalled you from his car and before you could even give whoever it was a piece of your mind, your voice got caught in your throat.

Your first thought was: man bun. Long hair in a man bun. Sexy ass drug dealer in a BMW with long hair in a man bun. Your parents always told you not to do drugs but how could you heed those warnings when temptation was served to you on a silver platter like that?

You gripped the headrest of the backseat, your breasts currently under attack by Yoongi’s expert tongue. The same tongue that had just ate you out like a champion a few minutes ago.

He pulled off your breast with a pop, delivering a smack to your ass with the hand that wasn’t holding his blunt. “Faster. I didn’t tell you to slow down.” His cat like eyes were hooded and glazed over from both the weed and the feeling of your tight walls hugging his cock. For a second, he didn’t even think he was high on weed—he was high on you. You were like an addiction; savory and hard to avoid, you were like a forbidden fruit. One he’d sink his teeth into everytime.

He brought his blunt back to his lips, inhaling a deep pull, holding the smoke in before blowing it back into your face. Just that action had you cumming on his cock, the feeling vibrating all the way to your toes. When he felt a splash against his pelvis, he dropped his head to look down at where you were connected. You were still bouncing on his cock, prolonging your orgasm and with each bounce, a small spray of liquid squirted from you.

He tossed his own head back, making sure to put his blunt in the ashtray on the door to prevent any burns to his upholstery before grabbing both of your ass cheeks in his hands and beginning to piston up into your spasming cunt.

“Bout to fill this pussy up. You want it?” He grunted against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into the skin there.

He had knocked all of your words loose so all you could manage was a frantic nod of your head and a drawn out, “yessssss yessssss pleaseeeeee”.

“This pussy is so fucking good.” He landed a slap on your ass, the sting sending shocks of pleasure up your back as another orgasm crashed into you.

You were so absorbed that you didn’t even hear the police sirens as they pulled up next to you.

Wow. You thought you were just imagining the car rocking. Guess not.

The end of the week meant only one thing.

You had deep cleaned your apartment, moving slowly since your body still ached a little from sleeping on that bench at the station. Good thing Yoongi had connections that could bail both of you out. Still, you’d probably risk it again if it meant getting fucked like that.

You had just lit a candle and you were about to sit down to have a glass of wine but you were interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing.

“Ughhhhhh.” You groaned, placing your wine glass on a coaster before hauling yourself up less than gracefully and shuffling to the door. You didn’t even look at the screen on your intercom, just opening it and immediately trying to close it back after seeing who was on the other side.

A foot jammed itself between the door, stopping you from shutting it completely.

“Baby, come on. I said I’m sorry.”

“Screw you, Jeon! I told you I don’t want to see you again.”

He managed to push the door enough to slip his upper body through. The sight of his face sent a weird rush through you but you didn’t know if it was good or bad. You didn’t like it.

His doe eyes pleaded at you. “Please talk to me. I can’t stand not being with you anymore. Please please. I’m sorry.” He sounded so genuine that it made you break, heartstrings effectively tugged on and strummed by the only man you truly loved.

You shouldn’t let him in. You really shouldn’t.

“Oh. My. God. J-Jungkook!”

His hand whizzed through the air, landing a hard smack on your bruised ass that has taken a lot of punishment tonight.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear a word from you, you little whore.” He spit into your ear, hand coming up to cover your mouth while the other one held your hip to keep you in place as he delivered the deadliest back shots.

Your entire body was lit up in pain and pleasure, both mixing together in a beautiful cacophony that had you ready to propose to him.

Your moans were muffled by his large hand, his grip forcing your head back at an uncomfortable angle but he could give less of a damn about your comfort.

“How dare you let someone else fuck what’s mine?” He uncovered your mouth to slap your ass again in a tender spot causing you to jump, a high pitched scream coming from you as he pushed you into another orgasm. You had lost count a while ago, brain not keeping up with your body. Everything just felt endless.

You didn’t want him to know you were fucking other people. It wasn’t any of his business. You weren’t together anymore but am accidental slip up revealed what happened yesterday and in seconds, you were bent over the arm of your couch with Jungkook behind you.

“Count.”

He had made it to 21 before your knees were buckling, your eyes and mouth begging him to fuck you. To put you in your place and make you remember exactly who you belonged to.

He gripped at your hair, yanking your head back and making your body arch even more. Only your fingertips touched the bed below you, knees spread wide as you began throwing yourself back on his thick cock.

“I expect an answer when I ask you something, slut.” Contradictory since he told you to shut up earlier but logic was not necessary here. You were just a pliant little doll in service to the hunk of a man that was abusing your walls so good that your pussy should file a restraining order.

“N-no….I’m…ah! Fuck! S-sorry…..oh shit, I’m cumming!”

“That’s right. You come on my cock and my cock only. Do you fucking understand me?” He could feel his own orgasm building. He’s been holding back, a hard task with a pussy like yours but he managed. Denying all of your orgasms earlier made it easy enough for him. Then again, he did almost blow his load earlier when you put both of your feet behind your ears and held out your tongue for him to spit in your mouth.

He was an idiot for letting you go.

“I said, Do.” Smack! “You.” Smack. “Understand.” Smack. “Me?”

“YES!!! Oh shit!” Your walls clenched around him so tightly that it forced him out of your cunt, a long spray of liquid soaking the bedsheets beneath you. He brought his hand between your legs to rub furiously at your clit, splashing your juices everywhere. You’d definitely be upset later about your freshly washed sheets but he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

Your body jerked around as pure bliss and pleasure coursed through your veins, legs squirming all around as you both tried to chase and run away from Jungkook’s assault on your clit. He held your hip firmly, trying to keep you still while you rode out the waves of your orgasm.

When overstimulation began to get too painful, you turned over onto your side, pushing his hand away with your own. You twitched in the aftershocks, covering your cunt with your hands. Even the cool air was too much against your abused pussy. You’d probably have to take a break for the week just to recuperate.

When the haze began to clear a little, you slowly turned your head, peeking through your braids that covered your face to peek at Jungkook. Only to find him missing. You didn’t even hear him get out of the bed. Where did he go?

You waited a few moments, trying to catch your breath before Jungkook entered the room with a bottle of water. He was still fully naked, cock hard and angry looking, shiny with your juices.

He came over to the bed, placing a knee beside you to lean over your twitching body.

“Here. Drink some water. You need to be hydrated before I make you squirt again like that.”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. Again? Was he trying to kill you?

“W-again?”

His lips quirked up into his signature grin, nose scrunching cutely and it made you want to punch him in it and then kiss it better.

“You think that was it? We’re just getting started. This will teach you not to give out what’s mine.”

It didn’t teach you anything though. You’d have to learn your lesson again next week.

And he’d teach you faithfully every Sunday.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x black reader #jimin smut #jungkook smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #yoongi smut #taehyung smut

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