#I couldn't figure out how to get polls :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months ago

Text

A Little Longer

Summary: Frankie promises to give you what you ask for... but only if you can play by the rules of his game

Word Count: 2.4K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), this is literally porn with no plot WHOOPS, cockwarming, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), cum eating, breeding kink (just really wanting to cum inside- no implications of wanting to get pregnant but use your imagination if you so choose because you know I will🙂 edging, overstimulation (if u squint), praise kink, size kink, feral Frankie, but also sweet soft baby boy Frankie 😭🥺

A/N: Ovulation demons are at it again!!! 🤠 Idk what to tell y'all, this came to me (quite literally whoops) and I couldn't rest until my thots were written down! I know Joel won the voting poll for this one, but honestly it just screams Frankie 😩 Everyone clap for Madeline as she writes something that isn't an explicit pregnancy breeding kink!!!!

Frankie was never the type of guy to spend his Sundays glued to the TV, watching whatever NFL game was on just for the sake of staying up to date on the sports world.

So when you found him in the living room, lounged and sprawled out across your couch with football on in the background, you were sure that now was just as good of a time as any to suggest you spend the rest of your lazy afternoon in a much more enjoyable way for the both of you.

"How much longer until the game is done?" You cooed, crawling into Frankie's lap, straddling your legs across his hips and tracing your fingers up and down the worn cotton of his t-shirt.

"'Bout halfway. Why?" Frankie smirked, the half hard bulge growing in his sweatpants revealing he knew damn well why you had asked.

"Because, I have a game I'd rather play that's much better than football." You teased, leaning down to trail soft kisses along his neck and jaw, subtly grinding your hips down into his.

"Yeah? and what game would that be, quierda?" Frankie's smirk only grew wider, lust pooling in the warmth of his brown eyes as his hands roamed to grope your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp.

"My favorite game. The game where you put your dick inside me."

The two of you couldn't help but giggle despite the palpable tension brewing between you, a desperate and hungry need filling the air as Frankie's grip tightened, feeling you sink your weight over the full blown erection tenting his pants.

"That is a good game," Frankie chuckled, looking up at you with a concentrated furrow in his brow, seeing the gears turn in his mind as his eyes locked with yours. "I'll play. But-"

"But what, Frankie?" You asked, titling your head in confusion at his pause.

"But... We get to play by my rules."

At this point, Frankie's subtle smirk had shifted to a full blown devilish grin, leaving you wondering what kind of ideas he had managed to concoct in regards to your proposal.

"And what rules would those be, Franke?" You mewled, playing along as you traced your fingers along the edge of his waistband, tugging it down just enough to expose the happy trail running down the lower half of his stomach.

"I'll put my dick in you... But I'm not fucking you until the game is done."

You froze in your tracks, the unsure scrunch of your face acting as a silent ask to figure out if Frankie was being serious or not. The sudden shift in the tone of his voice now humming deep in his chest with a hungry desire, made it very clear that his suggestion was more than sure.

"If you want me to fuck you, rules are that you keep me inside you until the game is finished. But you can't move, can't touch yourself, and can't cum 'till I say."

You could already feel the slick starting to pool in the cotton of your underwear from anticipation and excitement, heart pulsing in your chest and cunt at the prospects of Frankie's idea. Because if there was one think Frankie knew about you, it was that you'd never turn down a challenge. And more importantly, you hated losing. So who would you be to deny him a chance to challenge him at his own game?

"You're on, Morales."

It had started off easy- sweet, even- Frankie spooning behind you, gently sliding his cock into your pussy, ass resting against his hips as your bodies melded together, snuggling on the couch.

He had even eased you into it, taking the first part of the 3rd quarter after half time had finished to stretch you out slowly, starting with just the tip notching between your folds and into your heat, sinking himself deeper inside you every few minutes to let you adjust to his size.

Even with how worked up you were, with half of Frankie's length now resting inside you, your confidence in making it another quarter and a half still abiding by Frankie's rules didn't seem too far out of reach.

But then again, you weren't expecting Frankie to play dirty, either.

Suddenly, Frankie was foregoing his subtle pace, trailing hot, wet kisses along your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, filling you to the brim as his tip nestled against your cervix. A pathetic whimper escaped from your parted lips, catching your breath while your pussy pulsed around his length, feeling Frankie's smug grin pressed against your shoulder between his kisses.

"Oh f-fuck, Frankie!" You moaned, the sweet sting of his stretch already making your eyes roll to the back of your head, trying with everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"There ya go, princesa. Tight little pussy always takes me so well, doesn't she?" Frankie cooed almost mockingly, the hot breath of his words dancing against your skin between sucking at your pulse point. "Gotta relax, baby girl. Still have a ways to go before the game's over."

You took a long inhale in, glancing at the game clock in the bottom corner of the TV frame, finding the small box that read "3rd Quarter- 6:37" and doing some quick calculations in your head.

6 minutes left of this quarter and 15 minutes in the next. Plus game breaks and commercials? You could pull yourself together enough to make it through that without falling apart? Can't be that much longer, right?

For the average person watching football, you were right.

But to you, with Frankie's cock buried in your pussy, painstakingly teasing you to the point of near tears, you were convinced that you were watching the longest football game ever played in the history of mankind.

After sinking his full length to your hilt, Frankie had become relentless. It started off just like he had before, the intensity of his teasing amping up little by little with each minute that passed.

It began with the kisses on your neck, slowing trailing up and down your warm skin, whispering sweet praises into your ear. The tickle of the scratchy hairs from his beard making you shiver in delight, wishing it was buried between your legs, scratching the inside of your thighs as he ate you out instead of your neck.

Next, came his hands, palms that were once innocently splayed across your stomach now reaching under your shirt to palm at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp, fingertips gently rolling your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hard buds with just enough pressure that his other hand was holding your hips firmly in place to keep you from grinding against him and taking any more than he gave you.

If both of those weren't enough, the final straw was when the hand lazily groping at your breasts snaked down your front, finding its way to your clit, puffy and aching from its time spent untouched while Frankie's cock lay stiff and full inside you.

At this point, you were absolutely soaked, every inch of your bottom half drenched in your arousal as you leaked around Frankie's length, the pads of his fingers sliding over your sensitive and slippery bundle of nerves with unspeakable ease. Even though he had barley but any pressure over your clit, just the ghosting of his fingertips was enough to make you sob, desperate to chase your high after what felt like hours of Frankie teasing you with his cock.

"Oh my god, F-frankie, fuck- please, baby. P-please touch me." You begged, pathetically whimpering as his fingers traced through your drenched folds, his strong grip holding your hips in place to keep you from pushing your ass deeper into his hips for some sort of relief.

"Shhhhhh, I know, baby. But you can't cum yet, remember? If I touch you, you gotta be a good girl and follow the rules of the game." Frankie smirked, teasing you as his fingers lazily collected your slick, purposefully circling them everywhere but your clit.

"I won't, I promise, p-please, Frankie. P-please."

Giving into your plea, Frankie dragged his fingers up your cunt, making you cry out as he finally began to rub slow circles against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the mix of temporary relief and painful ache to cum making you clamp down around Frankie's cock, wetness gushing from your core.

It was taking everything in you to fight the urge to collapse, biting down so hard on your lip you were convinced it might bleed as you felt the pleasure begin to build in you. Unfortunately for you, Frankie had spent enough time memorizing every twitch and tug of your body beneath his that he knew your tell tale signs, pulling his fingers away to the sounds of your ragged moans.

"Frankie, n-no, fuck- please, baby. I need more, pleasepleaseplease."

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you beg. I know, quierda, but not yet. There's still 4 minutes left in the game. 4 minutes left and then I'll fuck you. Fuck you with my tounge, my cock, I'll make you cum so many times you won't be able to walk straight. But not until this tight little pussy is so wet and ready for me that she can take everything I have to give."

With the way Frankie's filthy mouth was spewing, he might as well be fucking into you at full force, his words shooting straight to your core, fingers digging into your couch cushions for any sort of relief you could get.

"F-Frankieeeee-" His name was the only thing your mind could comprehend enough to get out, practically panting as the sheen of sweat began to dampen your forehead.

"You're doing so good for me, baby girl. I know you can take it." Frankie praised, scooping his hand under your jaw to turn your face towards him, cradling your cheeks in his grasp to force your lips to his, colliding mouths muffling the moans escaping from you.

You were practically drunk off pleasure at this point, trying your best to fight off a dizzying high as you watched the clock wind down at a painstaking pace, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the clock shift to count down from only one minute left.

"Less than a minute left, Hermosa. Think you can make it?" Frankie cooed, his fingers creeping back down to circle your clit, sending a jolt through your body as he rubbed at the slippery and soaked bundle of nerves.

The best you could do was nod your head, too far gone for any words as your cunt clamped tighter and tighter around him, so wet that you were more than positive you'd be cleaning stains of your puddles of slick out of your couch tomorrow.

Looking back at the TV, you were down to 12 seconds left, the winning team already celebrating their inevitable victory, hoping that it would be enough for Frankie to give in and finally fuck you.

"F-fuck me, Fransisco, please. Please, baby, wanna cum around your cock so bad." You whined at a pathetic pitch, pleading with Frankie to give you what you had been so desperate for.

You could hear the sigh of relief as the game clock finally wound down to :00, sensing an immediate shift in Frankie's demeanor as the game came to a close.

"Oh thank fuck this game is done." Frankie groaned, flipping you over onto your back and caging his body over yours, colliding your mouths in a messy dance of tongues and teeth.

While he may not have said it, Frankie was just as wound up as you, the warm and wet walls of your cunt soaking him for the better part of an hour driving him absolutely feral, using every ounce of self-restraint to keep from accepting defeat at his own game.

"Wanted to fuck you so bad, quierda. Do you know how hard it was not to give into you, baby? Not to hear those pretty moans and not fuck this perfect pussy. You did so good for me, so good that I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Gonna fill you up so full of me, I'll be dripping out of you for days."

Frankie sat back, throwing your legs over the width of his broad shoulders, leaning into you so that your thighs pressed against your stomach, stretching you open even further than you thought you could as he began to punch into you at a punishing pace.

His cock rammed against your g-spot, the sounds wet squelching from his length dragging in and out of your soaking heat, balls slapping against your ass and lewd moans had your living room sounding like it was straight out of a porn scene

"Fuckfuckfuck- Frankie- don't stop, baby. Don't stop." You sobbed, Frankie barley 10 strokes in before you could feel the coil in your belly beginning to tighten, so worked up from waiting for this moment that you were about to cum embarrassingly fast.

"Not gonna stop, hermosa. Lemme feel it, baby. Did so good for me. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you soak me. Wanna feel you before I fuck myself so deep inside of you."

“Ohmygod- oh Frankie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It only took a few more strokes and the curly hairs at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit to send you over the edge, your pent up orgasm crashing through you so hard, you were conviced that you were levitating in pure ecstasy. Every inch of your body was trembling with pleasure, gushing around Frankie’s cock as you came, your velvety walls choking his length as he relentlessly continued to fuck into you, ready to chase his own high.

“That’s my good girl. Let go, baby. Cum all over me. Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.” Frankie groaned, admiring you as you rode out your orgasm, jaw slack and mouth hanging open in a perfect “O”, your glossed over eyes and blissed out expression finding a way to drive him even more wild.

Reaching between your legs, Frankie’s fingers found your clit, making you cry out from how sensitive you still were, barely finished cumming before he was already on his way to doing it again.

“Frankie, it’s too- fuck- too much. Oh my god, shit-“ you sobbed, wrapping your fingers around his biceps, his muscles flexing in your grasp as you tried to brace yourself.

“I know you can take it, Hermosa. Need to give you one more. Please, let me give you one more.”

“I- fuck- I c-can’t.” But despite your half hearted protest, you and Frankie both knew that you were already half way to reaching your high again, coil in your stomach tightening with each punch against your g-spot and rub of his fingers on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

"You can, baby girl, I know you can. Can feel how close you are again- so fucking wet and tight, fuck- Give me one more and I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me- watch my cum leak out of your tight little pussy 'till I can fuck it back into you again, keep you inside me for days." Frankie moaned, his pace now becoming more frantic and sloppy with each thrust, fighting with everything in him to keep from finishing before you did once more.

The combination of the feral thoughts that Frankie found himself spewing, along with the overwhelming and all consuming pleasure was all you needed to tip you over the edge again, this orgasm even more intense than the last. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, sobbing and crying out Frankie's name like a broken prayer, body practically going limp as pure bliss overtook you.

"Oh shit- Fuck, you're so good to me, quierda. Feels so fucking good. Fuck, I'm gonna cum too- mierda- give you everything I have, gonna-ahhhhh! Fuck!"

Just like that, Frankie was spilling inside you, hips stuttering with one final thrust as he painted your walls with hot, thick ropes of his spend, balls drawing up into his stomach while he milked himself of every last drop he had to give.

Through heavy breaths and gritted teeth, Frankie carefully pulled out his softening cock, sitting back on his heels to watch the mix of your spend begin to drip out of your hole, awestruck but the wet and shiny mess between your thighs, pussy puffy, swollen and leaking with him.

But for just as animalistic as it made Frankie to watch his cum seep out of your spent cunt, there was an even more primitive part of him that need to make sure that you stayed full of him, to mark his territory inside of you.

Shifting to lay on his stomach, Frankie kept your legs slung over his shoulders, pushing your thighs to your chest to spread you open, watching more of his seed dribble out of your pussy. With a satisfied groan rumbling deep in his chest, Frankie stuck out his tongue, swiping it up to collect the warm mixture of your arousal before pushing it back into your heat, gently fucking you with his mouth as you whined and writhed beneath him.

Once he was satisfied with his cum stuffed back inside you, Frankie couldn't help but look up at you with the most satisfied smirk spread across his face, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up to trap your body beneath his, resting his weight on top of you with his head nestled between your breasts, big brown puppy dog eyes staring up at you.

"Are you okay, baby?" He cooed, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

"No, it was amazing, Frankie." You smiled, reaching down to run your fingers through the messy curls of his sweat-ridden hair, heart swelling with how quickly Frankie had flipped the switch from assertive to soft and sweet. "We should watch football like that more often."

"Baby, if this is how you wanna watch football, I won't let us miss another fucking game the rest of this season."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

735 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 9 months ago

Text

When I Kissed the Teacher | Azriel

Summary: After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

Warning: reader thirsting for Az and fluff for my batboy ♥

A/N: @daycourtofficial suggested this song and idea! Though I did a poll and Az won, I couldn't help myself and also write a version for Cas (you can read it here) as a huge thank you for following and reading my stuff. I just reached 1K followers ♥

This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (:

The first moment you saw Azriel, you were instantly drawn to him.

His sun kissed skin radiated warmth. The hazel depths of his eyes hinted at wisdom earned through ages. His dark hair, a cascade of silken strands, framed a face sculpted to perfection. The Illyrian leathers he wore were a gift from the gods themselves as they only highlighted the well-defined muscles that lay beneath…

And his wings? Gods, those wings of his. They were massive yet delicate and iridescent. The way they always unfurled with such grace had your own wings fluttering in response.

But it wasn’t just the arresting beauty that surpassed all males you’ve encountered that drew you in. It was the impeccable way he carried himself. The mastery he exuded in combat, the patience he had while training you because if you’re going to be honest, you’re sure you pushed him past his limits. Yet, no matter how tough he was on you during training, Azriel was always kind to you outside of training grounds.

It didn’t take you long to fall for him and it didn’t matter how much you unleashed your inner turmoil onto the punching bag. Nothing could shake the strange fluttering sensation in your stomach every time your mind drifted to him. It’s like there were a million butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Sweat glistens on your forehead and your eyebrows furrow in concentration, too lost in your thoughts to pay mind to the silent spectator that had arrived minutes ago…until he finally steps out from the shadows and speaks.

“I’d hate to be the one on your mind right now.”

A misplaced punch lands awkwardly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through your hand. “Azriel,” you breathe, your cheeks flushing as you cradle your hand close to your chest. If only he knew…

“Fuck,” Azriel curses, hazel eyes flashing with concern. He swiftly closes the distance between and gently takes your injured hand into his, inspecting it with a small frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You could never scare me.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, eyes lifting to meet yours. “Is that so?” He replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I think I may be going too soft on you then”

“Soft?” You exhale in an incredulous manner, remembering the way your last training session with Azriel had ended.

He had taunted you and your Illyrian blood had heated at the challenge in his words, allowing him to coax you into combating him. Of course, you were no match for him. You had begun training only a year ago, thanks to Emerie’s invitation. Azriel had centuries on you. Your muscles were still aching from the aftermath.

Azriel chuckles. “Come,” he says, guiding you back into the house. His hand holds onto your wrist lightly, being careful so as not to hurt your injured hand further. “Let’s get you patched up.”

As Azriel carefully attends to your hand, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers on him. His features are tense with concentration and concern, unbothered by the dark fringe that falls slightly over his eyes. Your uninjured hand is itching to run through those dark strands and brush his hair back for him.

You swear your heart skips a beat when Azriel lifts his gaze, catching your brazen staring. A flush spreads across your cheeks, and you quickly avert your gaze, missing the subtle, self-satisfied smile that graces Azriel's lips.

The sudden intrusion of Nesta breaks the spell, her figure leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, an amused twinkle in her gaze. While you were oblivious to Azriel's reaction, Nesta, caught the soft smile he allowed himself.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Both of you turn your heads to find Nesta. There’s a smirk on her face as her eyes flicker between you and Azriel.

“Uh, no. Not at all,” you stammer, attempting to mask your embarrassment. “Just a little injury, that’s all.”

“Nothing to worry yourself over, Nesta,” Azriel chimes in, lowering his gaze to secure the bandage wrapped around your hand. “All done.”

“Thanks, Azriel.”

Azriel rises to his feet, and the shadows that dance around his shoulders seem to buzz with excitement over the soft way you had said his name. He pats your thigh, suppressing his smile as he stands.

Nesta's smirk transforms into a sly grin, her keen eyes not missing the way Azriel keeps his gaze averted from you to save you from further embarrassment. It doesn’t matter, anyway. His shadows are happy to inform him of the mortified look you send Nesta’s way followed by the way you silently mouth “stop” at her.

"Well, that’s great news,” Nesta replies, grasping your uninjured hand and pulling you to your feet. “Thank you for taking care of her, Az. Now, if you don’t mind, y/n here is late to girl’s night.”

As Nesta ushers you out, Azriel watches with a mixture of amusement and warmth in his hazel eyes. Unbeknownst to you, the unexpected emotions that had taken residence in your heart were mirrored in Azriel’s.

Under the soft glow of fairy lights, you sit cross-legged on the plush rug, facing Nesta while Emerie and Gwyn sit on either side of you. An array of snacks, provided by the sentient house, sits in the middle of the circle you and your friends formed. And of course, it wouldn’t be a girl’s night without the age-old game of truth or dare.

“Your turn,” Emerie grins at you, exchanging a knowing look with the other two females. “Truth or dare?”

Given the mischievous glint in Nesta’s eyes, it was an obvious choice for you. Truth would be the safer option. Emerie’s grin falters, disappointed by your choice.

However, Gwyn sees an opportunity. She wraps her blanket tighter around herself, shifting in her spot eagerly. She leans forward to grab a chocolate covered strawberry before nonchalantly asking: “Do you like Azriel?”

Nesta scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh, come on. Like we even have to ask.”

“True,” Gwyn giggles. “But I want to hear her say it.”

Heat rises to your cheeks for the third time tonight, creating a persistent warmth that makes you wonder if you might give yourself a fever. Your friends collectively hold their breaths in anticipation. Nesta’s gaze remains fixed on you, unwavering.

“Yes.”

The room erupts into squeals and teasing remarks, and your eyes widen, urging them to hush, terrified that Azriel, who is upstairs, might hear. It’s a futile attempt as their cheers only grow louder, making you bury your face in her hands.

“He likes you too.”

Your peak out from beneath your fingers. “What makes you say that?”

Nesta laughs in response but Emerie and Gywn are quick to tease you even further. Gywn assumes the role of Azriel while Emerie assumes the role of you as they exchange glances and lingering touches. The two females jump to their feet and wooden swords appear in front of them. You look up with a glare directed at the sentient house.

With a swift flick of her wrist, Gwyn uses her wooden sword to knock Emerie’s out of her hand. “Again,” Gwyn nearly growls as she tries to mimic Azriel’s deep voice.

“I can’t,” Emerie replies, feigning shyness.

“I don’t sound like that!” You cry out in disbelief, turning to Nesta. “I don’t sound like that, right?”

Nesta shrugs her shoulders, eyes sparkling with mirth at the scene before her. Emerie and Gwyn ignore your protests, continuing to pretend to be you and Azriel.

“Oh, Azriel, my love,” Emerie swoons, the back of her hand flying to her forehead while her other hand hangs in the air. “I think I sprained my wrist.”

Gwyn gasps dramatically, diving in to catch Emerie before she could fall back against the fortress of pillows behind her. “No, not my sweet y/n, who I’m absolutely smitten with” Gwyn coos, bringing Emerie’s “injured” hand to her lips and kissing it.

Then, Gwyn and Emerie absolutely lose it, the two females falling onto the fortress of pillows as laughter consumes them, unfazed by the glare you’re now directing to them. Nesta stifles her own laughter, turning her attention back to you.

“He definitely likes you,” she repeats, her words awakening the butterflies in your stomach. You wonder if she can hear them fluttering too. “But he won’t make the first move. You’re going to have to do it yourself.”

“Absolutely not!”

Nesta grins at you. “We’ll see about that.”

“Whatever,” you huff out. “It’s your turn now. Truth or dare?”

The night wears on, filled with more laughter, more shared secrets, and the occasional embarrassing dare. You got your friends back by daring them to have multiple spoonfuls of ice cream and tomato sauce. The house keeps you well supplied with snacks and your glasses of wine never go empty.

When it’s your turn again, you hesitate for a moment. You had thought “truth” had been the safer option but now, you know there is no safe option.

This time, you decide to be brave.

“Dare.”

"Fucking finally," Emerie grins, looking at Nesta while Gwyn smiles at you. Their plan is unfolding seamlessly...

“We dare you to kiss Azriel tomorrow after training.”

Your eyes widen in panic. “What? No way!”

Nesta, seemingly unfazed, inspects her nails with feigned boredom. "Coward," she mutters under her breath.

Her words, though hushed, ignite something deep within you. Your Illyrian blood stirs, the challenge resonating in your veins. Your eyes narrow, fixing on Nesta. "What did you say?"

Nesta meets your gaze as she repeats herself. Louder, this time. “Coward.”

The room falls into a hushed silence as your friends await your response. You bite your lip, contemplating the audacious dare. It was not in your nature to back down from a challenge.

After what felt like an eternity, you let out a deep exhale.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

You didn’t sleep at all last night but as Azriel circles around you, his eyes holding a glint of challenge, you are wide awake. Emerie, Gwyn and Nesta watch from the benches facing the sparring grounds while Cassian watches from a closer distance, keenly assessing your every move. Too caught up in your feelings over Azriel, you had failed to realize that this morning’s training session was an evaluation of the skills you had been working on over the past couple of months.

To say you're nervous was an understatement because not only did you have to prove yourself as the aspiring Valkyrie you’d like to become, you also had to prove to Nesta that you were not a coward. Taking a deep breath, your grip tightens on your sword.

Azriel, with his wings casting shadows on the ground, moves with grace. Each movement is precise and deliberate as your swords meet in a flurry of strikes, the sound of steel ringing in the air. Though you struggle, you do your best to keep up and hold your ground, determination burning bright.

Sweat begins to cling to your skin and your envious of the way Azriel hasn’t even broken a sweat himself. With every strike of his and every parry of yours, he continues to push you, his strikes growing harsher and stronger. You literally blink and in that swift second, Azriel knocks your sword out of your grip. A hiss escapes you and you swear your hear Gwyn and Emerie snicker from the sidelines as they find this situation all too familiar.

With a sweep of his leg, you lose your balance and find yourself falling onto one of the training mats. Azriel’s lips twitch upwards as he points his sword toward you. “Do you yield?”

You are weaponless and at his mercy but your stubbornness continues to burn bright. “No.”

In a sudden burst of energy, you land a kick on him, knocking his sword out of his grip just as he did to yours. The bold move leaves him momentarily stunned, his shadows coiling back in surprise. You take full advantage of his distraction, hooking your other leg behind his knees and bringing him down to the mat with you.

Azriel can only blink up at you as you straddle him, eyes widening when he feels a dagger–his dagger–pressed against his throat. How did you–

He’s unable to finish his thought as you shift above him and swallows thickly at the sensation of your body on top of his. The way your breathing is shallow and uneven and the way he can feel the warmth radiating off your body–

“You will.”

Your words have his attention drifting back to you. A radiant smile breaks across your face and his own lips curl upwards, hazel eyes softening as they stare into yours. “I yield,” he murmurs, ever so quietly, you wonder if you imagined it.

Your gaze drifts down to his lips and then back to his eyes. He does the same. And then the next moment, you’re kissing him. Softly and hesitantly, at first, but when Azriel responds, your heart fills with warmth. Your lips move against his with eager urgency.

Truthteller falls from your grasp and you bring your hand to grasp at the back of his neck instead, pulling him even closer. His hands find their place at your waist to keep you in place but then screams and squeals are piercing through the air. You’re immediately pulling away and jumping to your feet, absolutely flustered because in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten all about the audience you had.

You glance down at Azriel, desperately seeking a sign, but his expression is a mix of surprise and confusion. He looks nearly petrified. Your heart races and you begin to wonder if perhaps, you are a coward because all you want to do is run.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Doubts claw at the edges of your courage. What if Nesta was wrong? What if Azriel didn't like you? And you've just made a fool of yourself in front of him–your teacher– and your friends.

Turning around, your eyes meet with the delightfully entertained audience. Gwyn and Emerie, caught up in the drama, cling to each other with excitement and unrestrained giggles. Nesta stands with the same smirk she gave you the night before though there’s a flicker of surprise in her blue-grey eyes. She hadn't expected you to follow through with the dare.

Meanwhile, Cassian’s gaze is fixed on the body behind you and he throws his head back in laughter. Ignoring the whispers and amused glances from those around you, you hastily make your exit, blind to the way you left Azriel a blushing fool.

Cassian approaches his friend, who remains rooted to his spot on the floor. Azriel is still processing the whirlwind of emotions you've stirred within him. There’s a teasing grin on Cassian’s lips. “Are you okay there, Az? You look a little–”

Azriel snaps out of the trance you've cast upon him to glare up at his friend. “Fuck off.”

He then jumps to his feet, dusting himself off and ignoring the curious glances of the females nearby. Determination fills his eyes as his head turns toward the direction you ran off to. He fears you have misinterpreted his initial shock and he can’t let this moment slip away.

He needs to feel your soft lips against his again and more importantly, he needs to tell you that he feels the same way.

a/n: Hope you all enjoyed this one! Cas's version is already up!

tagging: @hellodarling1357, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #abba x acotar

2K notes · View notes

ooliecat · 22 days ago

Text

hey i saw this one post about the counselors interacting with the campers minus raz and i decided to get off my ass and finish these months old comics but then i realized why i don't do comics often

comic B, the only comic i remembered to label, was gonna have one more page but to be honest i couldn't be blanked. it was gonna have milla suggest that they do a poll with the other campers to figure out the name, as a copout to not pick one over the other.

and the uncolored page takes place in millas dance party but you know how hard that is to color? in a good way? i tried i really did

#my art #psychonauts #milla vodello #sasha nein #chloe barge #clem foote #crystal flowers snagrash #quentin hedgemouse #pheobe love #comic #GUYS I HAVENT PLAYED RHOMBUS OF RUIN YET

445 notes · View notes

humanpurposes · 6 months ago

Text

De Jure

In light of a recent scandal, she finds herself becoming part of Aemond's plan for the future- Part 2 to De Facto.

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Main Masterlist // AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, politics (putting my degree to good use), questionable power dynamics, manipulation, dub con/non con elements, baby trapping

Words: 4121

A/n: He looked too good at the New York premiere and I couldn't help myself :)

A strange feeling seems to follow her around Hightower House, like there are eyes on her, like everyone around her is watching her, like they know something.

It’s plausible enough that Aemond likes to keep her behind late most nights because he trusts her, more so than the other staff. There’s always something they need to talk through, some crisis that needs solving, some issue they can form a preemptive strategy for. Mostly “crisis resolution” comes in the form of him bending her over the desk and tearing through her tights, or having her on her knees with his hands in her hair and his cock slipping between her lips.

Aemond is precise, attentive, relentless. He leaves her stunned and satisfied in a way that the wanting never satiates itself.

Then there are the occasional glances, the sparse touches, his hand on her back when he walks into a room, his hand on her thigh under a desk, in the back of a car.

He’s careful to act inconspicuously around others, but there’s something about the way Maris glares at her, the way Alys watches her with her brows raised.

What if they know? How could they? How could they not?

Then she starts to get noticed by Otto Hightower. He’s a formidable figure in Hightower House, notorious for expecting the best from the staff, for his bluntness, his restrained but short temper, his intolerance for anything less than perfection– this is the man who made Aemond Targaryen the political force that he is after all.

After Aemond’s success in de-escalating the Aegon situation, Otto Hightower had personally pulled her aside and commended her. “Aemond said he wouldn’t have been able to pull it together if it weren’t for you.”

She’d been rather stunned that Aemond would mention her to his grandfather.

“Just doing my bit for the party,” she’d said.

He nodded his head at that, mouth poised in something like a smile.

She never has plans on a Friday night these days. She’s working through some polls, anxiously waiting for Aemond to finish a meeting with the inner circle, Otto, Cole and Alicent.

Alys is watching her between glances at her laptop, the same red lipstick on her lips, an eerie white light illuminating her face from the screen. Her nails tap against the keys and the surface of the desk when she pauses to think, to stare.

“What?” she says sharply, weeks of patience wearing thin.

Alys smirks to herself before slowly closing the lid of her laptop. “It seems as though something’s bothering you.”

A panicked feeling hums in her chest. She was too harsh. Her reaction was too obvious. “No, I’m fine,” she mutters.

“I thought you might be tired, you know, with all the overtime Mr Taragryen has you doing.”

She tries to laugh it off, to smile and shake her head, but her mouth feels stiff.

“Maris thinks he likes you.” Alys leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers.

“No more than he likes anyone else, I’m sure.”

One of Alys’ eyebrows lifts. With a short humming sound in her throat her lips break into another smile that bares her teeth. “Between us, I think Maris has a crush on him. It was cute at first but now I think she looks a little desperate…”

Desperate. What does that make her?

“... I think he likes you because you’re good at your job, but then sometimes it’s like he goes out of his way to ignore you. I thought he might be doing it to make the rest of us feel better.”

They stare at each other, locked in a silent dare. She feels her chest moving with her breath, her heart drumming under her skin.

“I think you’re reading into things,” she says, wincing at how dry her throat is.

Alys’ smile is gone now. She has this certain look, it can be unassuming and yet unnervingly intense. But they go back to their respective tasks. She looks like she has another thought brewing in her head, but she is interrupted by the ringing on the phone on her desk.

She picks it up instantly. “Hello, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll send her through now.”

The meeting isn’t over yet, the others would have passed the office on their way out. She tries not to stand too eagerly, taking her time as she collects the papers in front of her and picks up her phone– but what if Alys thinks she’s moving too slowly? She resists the urge to tut at herself or fiddle with the fabric of her skirt.

She has to walk by Alys’ desk to get to the door, and the thought fills her with dread, like she’ll be able to see right through her head and read every thought.

“Wait,” Alys calls as she hovers in the open doorway.

She turns to face her.

“He’s sweet,” Alys says, “and too gorgeous for his own good, but the Hightowers are opportunists.”

She knows that. The whole country knows that. For a generation, Westerosi politics has been nothing but a game between the Greens and the Blacks, a rivalry that started when Otto Hightower’s daughter caught the eye of Viserys Targaryen.

“You’re a smart girl,” Alys says. “Be careful.”

The walk to Aemond’s office feels longer than usual. The closed door feels more daunting. She taps her knuckles against it three times and pauses for a moment, until she hears his voice telling her to enter.

The days are growing shorter and the sun is already setting, a warm glow bleeding in through the tall windows. The light makes Aemond’s hair appear more golden than silver. He’s sitting on the sofa, suit jacket open, tie discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Criston Cole is sat in an armchair and nods to her when she walks in. Otto Hightower sits with his back to the door, Alicent beside him.

They’ve been in here for hours, the table between them is covered in empty coffee cups and newspapers with bold headlines. Some have moved on from the Aegon scandal, others have not.

She looks to Aemond for an instruction.

He beckons her with a single finger, anticipation already pooling in her belly despite their company. She stands beside him, hovering by the arm of the sofa where Aemond leans against his elbow, clutching her papers close to her chest.

Otto greets her by name. She’s rather proud of how far she’s come since her first day, scared to even step foot in his office.

He and Cole continue to discuss the Duskendale by-election which will inevitably take place in light of Aegon’s removal. Otto says this will be an opportunity for the Blacks to capitalise on the scandal, win themselves another seat in Parliament and put pressure on the Greens, on Aemond. Alicent listens all the while, picking at her fingernails.

“Rhaenyra will pick someone close to her, someone charismatic,” Otto says, looking directly at her.

Why would he do that, does he expect a note to be taken on the conversation?

Aemond’s hand appearing on her waist takes her by surprise. She stares down at him wide-eyed at his carelessness. He doesn’t seem worried as he gently pulls her down to sit on the arm of the sofa. His arm stays wrapped around her back, his hand slotting into the curve of her body, his thumb tracing circles against her shirt.

She tries to look at Otto and Cole without drawing too much attention to herself, but they don’t seem surprised at Aemond’s little display of affection. Alicent stares at them passively.

“Who in the Black Party has any charisma?” Cole says dryly. “She’s hardly got any allies left.”

“Jacaerys,” Otto says.

Cole scoffs. “He’s fresh out of uni.”

“He’s young but he has appeal,” Alicent says. “Certainly more than Aegon ever did.” She says it so gently but with no hesitation.

“And a good speaker,” Aemond adds, “people respond to him, he’s likeable.”

One more question remains, a ceaseless itch in her brain, as distracting as Aemond’s hand clinging to her body. She clears her throat softly. “Who’s our candidate going to be?”

Aemond’s grip on her waist tightens and he looks up at her, dying sunlight beaming over his face, catching on the tip of his nose, the curve of his lip, the lines of his jaw. “We’ve been discussing that.”

She hates this, feeling like she’s a step behind everyone else in the room. She looks up at the faces of Otto and Cole. Aemond has a sister, Helaena, but she stays away from public life. His younger brother, Daeron, is still studying. There are also plenty of Hightower cousins, people already in their inner circle.

“If we are all in agreement,” Otto says, fixing his suit jacket as he stands. “Come, Alicent.”

Aemond’s mother has always been a glamorous woman, younger than she appears. It’s not something she’s ever noticed before but she has such a solemn look about her, wide brown eyes and fallen lips.

Aemond stands to kiss her on both cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, softly, still loud enough for her to hear it.

“I trust your judgement,” she says.

With that the three of them leave the room and Aemond closes the door behind her.

She’s still sitting unsurely on the arm of the sofa, resisting the urge to dig her fingernails into the leather.

Aemond turns to face her. He slips off his suit jacket and places it carefully on the coat hanger by the door. He takes measured steps towards the sofa. “I have something to tell you. Sit down.”

Her stomach drops at the sinisterly soft tone of his voice, but she does as he says, slipping from the arm to the sofa itself, only to find she cannot sit comfortably. The back isn’t quite in the right place, the seat is too soft, like she’s melting into it. She tries to sit with her back straight, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap and her head held high as he approaches her.

By now she thinks she has a good read of him, the subtleties in his expressions, the hints into his mind. She can’t read him now. He looks at her with excitement, with something softer, with a look of hunger and lust. But she can tell that he’s far too happy with himself.

“You look nervous. Are you nervous?” he says, undoing the buttons on his cuffs and pulling them up to bare his hands, the muscles and tendons of his forearms.

“Well, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s exciting, I promise.”

Exciting to him, clearly.

“Alright,” she says.

Aemond stands before her and smiles, only for a moment. Usually, in this position, he’d reach out for her cheek, maybe he’d lean down to kiss her.

He just looks at her, with amusement, wonder, curiosity, perhaps even pride. With a small hum to himself, Aemond says, “we need a candidate for Duskendale.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, quietly but defiantly.

“I want it to be you.”

She feels her eyes go wide. The room feels cold and close. She can hear Aemond breathing through his nose, slow and steady.

After a few moments of silence, Aemond says, “what do you think?”

It takes her too long to find her breath. “You suggested it to Otto?”

“Yes. He and my mother agree, you’ll be perfect.”

Heat flushes in her face. She feels an urge to laugh, or cry, or grab him by the shoulders and ask him why in seven fucking hells he thinks this would be a good idea.

But then this is what she’s always wanted. This is why she studied so relentlessly, spent hours and hours in the library pouring over textbooks, why she gave up sleep to meet her deadlines, missed meals to afford rent in Sunspear, dedicated so much of herself to the extra work, all so she could have the very job Aemond is offering her on a silver platter.

It would be worth it, wouldn’t it? Knowing she could actually make a difference to the world that seemed determined to have her fail.

What if she asks him “why?” What if she gives him a reason to doubt her and he snatches that chance away?

She barely registers Aemond’s hands closing around hers before he pulls her up to stand. His forehead and his nose rest against hers, his breath warm over her skin. His lips are almost upon hers but he doesn’t move to kiss her, he keeps her waiting and restless.

“They’ve all agreed,” he mutters, “we need someone with no history, no scandals, nothing that could be held against us, not after the mess Aegon’s made.”

She pauses, pulling back a little so they can meet eye to eye. “You want me because I won’t embarrass you?”

Aemond tilts his head. “I want you because you’re the best option.” He leans in again, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. “You’d be a perfect fit, you’re intelligent, you’re meticulous, you don’t miss details and you’re unafraid to speak your mind.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth but she turns her head. “I want to feel like I’ve earned it,” she utters.

Aemond’s mouth trails to her neck instead, kissing her firmly. “You have earned it,” he says, his hands moving to her waist, squeezing her, claiming her. His touch roams over the rest of her body while he kisses her neck, her thighs, her rear, anything he can reach.

It’s dangerous how she responds when his hands are in the right place, and he knows it. But she reaches for his wrists to make him stop when he starts to tug on the waist of her skirt with his fingers.

“Is that what you think this is,” she says, “do you think I’m only trying to get a career out of you?”

Aemond frowns.

“Do you think I want to be remembered as some shallow opportunist? Is that all you think I deserve?”

When he hums it catches in the back of his throat. He makes a small pout with his lips, the way he often does when he’s thinking.

“You have an opportunity to do something remarkable here,” he says, his voice low and chilling as he takes her chin in his fingertips. “Look at all the work you’ve done for me already, why deny yourself the chance to do more?”

It doesn’t have to be a denial, does it? Saying no to him would only mean she could take a different path, her own path, on her terms. Unless this is it. Unless she says no and this is the end of everything.

His fingertips press into her jaw, as if his patience is wearing thin with every passing moment.

She looks into his single violet eye and the sapphire prosthetic set in his left socket, determined to stand her ground. “Not like this,” she says.

Aemond tuts. “Are you worried you won’t get in? You’ll get the seat, I’ll make sure you do. You’ll get the career you’ve wanted for so long, you’ll get everything you’ve worked for.” There’s desperation in his voice, something familiar and yet primal. His thumb gently strokes over her cheek to her lower lip. “I’ll keep you with me. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Reason slips from her mind and something dangerous tightens in her gut. “What do you mean–”

Her question ends up muffled against his lips as Aemond kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her into him, closer and closer.

She holds her hands up and the only place for her palms to go is against his chest so she can feel his heat and his heartbeat through his shirt. She parts her lips, welcoming his tongue and his teeth, welcoming the way he consumes her.

“Once you’re in Parliament we can make things official,” he mutters between their kisses.

He goes in to kiss her again and she pulls back. “What?”

He huffs impatiently, taking her face in both his hands. “I need someone reliable by my side, someone like you. It’ll be good for my image, and for the party, to appeal to family values.”

She feels herself scowling. “Did your grandfather tell you that?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says teasingly,

“What about all the work I’ve done already? I can’t give everything up?”

“What would you be giving up?”

Infuriatingly, her mind is suddenly blank.

Through the windows behind them, the sun is setting lower and lower in the sky, the golden rays only shining brighter as night creeps in. The world is as it was when they first met. Aemond’s eye burns in the light, his eye that has bored into hers as he’s pushed her over the threshold of bliss, that finds her across crowded rooms, that must have seen every inch of her skin.

“We’ll announce an engagement before you’re confirmed as our candidate,” he says. He comes to kiss her gently. The moment could almost feel tender, if he were not seeking to uproot her entire life. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against her lips. “Say yes to me, please, I need you to say yes.”

It’s easy to get lost in Aemond Targaryen, in his intensity, in his rare offerings of praise and approval. Her arms find their way around his neck, pulling herself into him, absentmindedly rocking her hips against his. His promises excite her as much as they terrify her.

“Say it,” he purrs, his voice catching in his throat as he walks her back. “I need an answer from you.”

The backs of her knees hit the edge of the sofa. She takes a moment to breathe and find her bearings.

Aemond’s eye is hooded and dark, his lips pressed together. She can feel it all simmering under the surface, his hunger, his desperation.

He needs her. He cannot lose this seat to the Blacks, he can’t give them space to challenge him. He can’t let Aegon’s indiscretions overshadow everything he’s been working towards. The Greens need to purge themselves of this damning image, they need a clean slate, and they’re willing to put her in the centre of government to get it.

“I’ll do it,”

His kiss is harsh when he captures her lips again, needy and commanding as he grabs at her waist.

She lets out a breath of surprise when he positions her to lay back on the sofa without parting from her. He’s over her, pressing her into the plush leather, a firm hold trailing from her neck, her wrists, her sides, her breasts through her blouse.

He undoes the buttons slowly, kissing the exposed parts of her flesh of her chest and stomach. When he has the blouse off completely he makes quick work of undoing her bra, discarding that to move his attention to her breasts. He toys with her nipples with his thumbs, lips and tongue until she’s writhing beneath him. She can already picture the bruises that will bloom in his wake.

He’s slow with her skirt too, she can hardly stand it, feeling the fabric and his fingertips dragging down her legs. With her shoes removed, Aemond sits back on his haunches and wraps his hands around one of her ankles, smirking as he strokes small circles over a sensitive spot of her skin.

“Please,” she utters, reaching her fingers out to graze his stomach, still hidden underneath a perfectly white shirt.

“I know, I know,” he coos, hooking his fingers in her panties to pull them from her legs. “I just like seeing you like this.

He wastes no more time, placing her ankle over his shoulder, spreading her other knee with a wide palm and leaning down until his face is between her legs. He knows to start slowly, to tease her with slow drags through her folds. It’s an infuriating feeling but she savours it. It’s the burn she loves, being dragged towards pleasure like a continual tide lapping at the shore.

She craves these unhurried moments, and she supposes there will only be more once Aemond gets his way.

His motions increase in speed when her breath quickens and she starts to squirm, with whispered mumblings of “please… I’m so close… please.” He borders on frantic, hums of approval vibrating against her centre.

It builds and builds until it releases a bloom of warmth in her belly that soon fades back into need when Aemond untangles himself from her. She watches him undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it from the loops in his slacks. He bares himself to her. There’s no pride this time, just awe when he looks at her.

He positions himself above her, running the tip of his cock, already hard and leaking, against her, pushing against her clit with every gentle thrust.

She holds onto his arms for leverage, letting herself succumb to the sensation, the smell of his aftershave and his sweat, the heat and the sound of their breaths in unison.

“I mean it,” he says with a sigh, “I think you’re perfect.”

She smiles, planting a peck against his lips, before she slides a hand between their bodies and positions him at her entrance. She’s taken him enough times but the initial stretch has her gritting her teeth.

Aemond stills. “We can–”

“I want to take it,” she utters, “I want to feel you,”

His resolve melts, but he doesn’t push further, waiting for a nod from her before he inches himself deeper inside her.

Their bodies mould against each other, her arms around his shoulders, his head nestled into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he pants. She watches him thrusting into her, chasing his own pleasure as he nudges against a spot inside her that leaves her feeling weightless.

He tries to increase his pace, but the back of the sofa hinders him somewhat. He grunts in frustration, gathering her in his arms and moving them both to the fur rug on the floor with ease. He brings her legs onto his shoulders and pushes into her once more, to the hilt, eliciting a gasp from her.

He chuckles to himself, showing his teeth and licking his lips. “You like that?”

“Yeah, fuck,” she breathes.

“Know you like it when I’m nice and deep,” he mutters, fucking her with swift snaps of his hips. With one hand on the floor he takes a gentle hold of her neck with the other, leaning in so her thighs are pressed against her chest. “My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

Her second climax is within reach, she feels the heat rising inside of her, her hips trying to buck but she’s caged by him.

Aemond’s hold on her neck tightens. “You’re close,” he says with a wicked smile on his lips.

Her back arches from the floor, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, “please don’t fucking stop…”

She clings to him, each one of them at the other’s mercy.

“I’ve got you,” Aemond says, continuing to drive his hips against hers. He must be reaching his own end, his pace is starting to falter, his moans unrestrained.

Usually he makes a habit of spilling himself over her body, her stomach or her thighs.

“Aemond?” she breathes.

“You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?” he says, “you’re mine now, we might as well get a head start.”

The realisation makes her stomach drop. “Wait–” she tries to murmur between her whines, “you can’t– not yet–”

He leans in to kiss her, to soothe her, to silence her.

He comes with a guttural groan, his hips stilling against her and a warmth spreading inside of her. Her own pleasure erupts after that, she can feel herself clenching around him, her body greedy for everything he has to offer her.

Aemond stays pressed against her for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. He withdraws from her slowly, bringing her legs down– she sees the way his eye lingers between her legs, something hot and wet dripping from within her. He gathers it with the tip of his cock, pushing himself into her again with short, shallow thrusts.

He takes her by her neck again, demanding her attention.

She gazes back at him, breathless, wide-eyed.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos. “With any luck we’ll have a due date to announce alongside your victory in Duskendale.”

#aemond targaryen #my fics #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #modern!Aemond #modern!Aemond x reader #house of the dragon fanfic #ewan nation #ewan mitchell smut

913 notes · View notes

ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 6 months ago

Text

Alright, time for another Merlin au! This one won the last poll, marked as "an au featuring Arthur being an idiot"!

In this au, set sometime in the three years between season 4 and season 5, Arthur, Merlin, and the knights of the round table get ambushed by a large pack of ferocious wyverns while on a quest. This time, Merlin couldn't be subtle about using his dragonlord commands to pacify them, and that was the only way to ensure that they would all make it out alive. So, Merlin uses dragonlord commands to make the wyverns leave and, in the process, reveals that's he's a dragonlord. However, he at least managed to keep his magic a secret through the ordeal, so he's got that going for him.

Arthur is, of course, rather upset about Merlin keeping this secret from him, and is even more upset when he learned that Balinor was Merlin's father and guilty that he didn't support his friend through mourning his father as Merlin had for him. However, Arthur can also keep things in perspective. After all, dragonlord powers weren't actual sorcery, apparently it was a magic-adjacent gift that Merlin had inherited at the moment of his father's death, whether he wanted to or not. Besides, it wasn't like Merlin chose to have the ability, so Arthur couldn't really hold the ability itself against Merlin.

And anyways, Arthur mused to himself at their camp after Merlin came clean to the knights the night after the the wyvern attack, it wasn't like there were any dragons left. The only thing Merlin could do was command wyverns. While that could perhaps make him a threat if he wasn't the most harmless person Arthur knew, they didn't even encounter wyverns that often.

So, Arthur was willing to just let this be a useful little trick that Merlin could use on the off chance that they ran into wyverns. Still, the image that the whole situation gave Arthur, an image of Merlin being a formidable, powerful dragonlord with devastating dragons under his command, was rather amusing.

So, as Arthur settled in for the night after hearing the last of Merlin's explanation, this wasn't going to be a big deal. Sure, he was still hurt that Merlin kept this a secret from him, but Arthur could understand why. Uther had killed all of the other dragonlords, so it made sense that Merlin felt unsafe with his father still on the throne, and since they didn't run across wyverns often, there was a very real chance that Merlin just forgot about his ability entirely until it was relevant again. That was a very Merlin thing to do.

So, everything was fine. Everyone with them looked comfortable with Merlin, and he knew that they would keep this a secret for Merlin's sake. If word of Merlin's dragonlord abilities got out, Arthur could always publicly grant him a pardon. After all, it wasn't like he had ever hurt anybody with it. The only thing he seemed to do with it was send wyverns away.

Arthur quietly snorted to himself at the thought. Oh no, the terrible powers of Merlin the dragonlord, telling some wyverns to shoo.

Arthur relaxed into his bedroll, listening to the knights settling in to sleep and their fire crackling a few feet away. The quiet noises were peaceful, but were broken a few minutes later by Leons seemingly innocuous question.

"Merlin, if you were already a dragonlord when we rode out to face the great dragon, did you do anything with your powers? I assume you're the reason Arthur made it out alive through the whole ordeal."

Merlin froze where he was sitting, a myriad of emotions passing through his face before his expression settled on a grimace. Arthur sat up, interested in hearing Merlin's answer. What truly happened that night with the dragon? In the comfort of his own mind, Arthur admitted that Merlin's explanation of Arthur slaying it was... unlikely, at best, considering that Arthur was unconscious at the time.

"Well, you'd be correct Leon. It took me a while to figure out how to use dragonlord commands, since I never got any instruction on how I was supposed to command Kil- the great dragon. I'm truly sorry that I wasn't quick enough to save the other knights."

Merlin hung his head low, with what looked like shame. Arthur frowned at his manservant. Surely Merlin couldn't hold himself responsible for their deaths? Every knight had similar guilt, telling themselves at night that they should've been faster, should've been better, should've been more aware, then maybe some of their friends would still be with them.

Every knight learned the same lesson: those thoughts were the path to madness. It was disheartening to see that misplaced guilt on Merlin as well.

Luckily, before Arthur had to try to articulate that, Leon seemed to have similar thoughts, and spoke to Merlin with a soft, reassuring smile.

"Merlin, they volunteered for that mission, and they knew the risks. You are not to blame for the dragon's actions. Now please, tell us, how was the dragon actually defeated?"

Merlin nodded at Leon's words, but the guilt remained on his face.

"I, uh, was able to find my dragonlord voice after Arthur was knocked from his horse. He hadn't managed to hit the dragon, and he was about to kill Arthur, but I couldn't let that happen."

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, who was valiantly trying to ignore the warm fuzzy feelings blooming in his chest at the thought of Merlin slaying a dragon single-handedly just to protect him. He wasn't some maiden in a children's tale!

"But, when I gave the order to the dragon to stop attacking, I- I couldn't-"

Merlin swallowed thickly before continuing.

"I couldn't kill him. He was the last dragon, the last of my kin. So, I ordered him to leave. I banished him from Camelot and forbade him from ever harming another human again."

This time, Arthur froze where he was sitting, and he could see that the knights were in similarly tense states. Poor Leon turned a rather disturbing shade of pale.

Finally, Arthur spoke up with a forced calm tone, the type that was only a thin veneer to panic.

"Merlin, you don't mean to tell me that the dragon is still alive? And it could return to Camelot to finish what it started?"

Merlin looked at Arthur and tried to reassure him, but Arthur could barely comprehend Merlin's words through his rising panic.

"Well, yes, he's still alive, but dragons physically cannot disobey orders given by their dragonlord. He cannot return to Camelot at all, unless I call for him."

Merlin tried to give him a comforting smile, but Arthur wasn't sure he could feel any sort of comfort at the moment. He locked eyes with Leon, who wasn't faring much better with his own panic. Dear gods, that monster was still out there! They had all been living under a false sense of security! And all the while, Merlin was smiling at him like there was nothing wrong at all!

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to think through the haze of his panic. Right, Merlin hadn't killed the dragon. That made sense, since Merlin hated killing anything at all, much less the most dangerous monster on the planet. Right. But, according to Merlin, the dragon physically couldn't enter Camelot or hurt any humans.

Information, what Arthur needed was more information. If he had more information, he could come up with a strategy to keep Camelot safe from the dragon indefinitely. Merin's orders had worked for now, but there was no guarantee that those would work forever.

Forever... wait a minute...

"Merlin," Arthur called out frantically, fueled by an awful thought. "How long does a dragonlord's order bind a dragon?" Please say forever, please say forever...

Merlin's eyebrows shot up, apparently not expecting Arthur to ask such a question.

"Well, any dragonlord's order is fully binding to a dragon up until the original dragonlord rescinds the order or the dragonlord dies, whichever comes first."

Arthur felt panic's icy fingers wrap around his heart. Arthur despised even thinking about any hypothetical death of Merlin's, couldn't fathom an empty life as the king without his friend, but this, this information put a whole new layer of dread onto the though, which Arthur previously thought wasn't even possible. He could see the other knights catching onto his logic as well, while Merlin still sat on his log, looking at all of them confusedly.

If Merlin somehow died, then his banishment on the dragon was lifted. And if that happened, there would be no dragonlord left to stop it from reducing all of Camelot to ash. If Merlin died, then Camelot was doomed.

This new knowledge sat heavy in Arthur's gut, putting him on edge. Balinor had been killed from a bandit's crossbow bolt, something that Merlin faced regularly while following Arthur around. All it would take was one lucky shot on a bandit's part, and all of Camelot would die.

One bandit attack gone wrong, one assassin from Morgana, one accident on the training field, one illness contracted from a patient, and all of Camelot would go up in smoke.

Wait... dragons lived for thousands of years... and Merlin would, if Arthur had his way, live for at least a hundred years, but everyone died eventually. The dragon would surely outlive Merlin, and then the only way that Camelot would still stand was if there was another dragonlord! But Merlin was the only one left, and it was passed down from...

from father to son.

Arthur choked on air as he realized it. Good god, what had his life come to?!

If Camelot was going to survive, Merlin needed to have a son, and have one quickly. For the continued survival of Camelot to be ensured, Merlin needed to find a wife and get laid.

Arthur wanted to start laughing hysterically. The fate of his kingdom rested upon Merlin's ability to sire a child.

Arthur stared at Merlin as the other man tried not to squirm under the shocked gazes of all the knights. Ok, he could do this, his kingdom would be safe from the dragon, he just needed a plan.

First, they needed to get Merlin back to Camelot, where he would be safe and away from murderous bandits. That part was easy enough, they were already heading back to the kingdom anyways. The knights had estimated that it would have taken them another three days to reach Camelot, but with all of the knights sharing Arthur panic around Merlin's safety, for both the sake of their friend himself and the kingdom, they were able to make it back in only two days.

For those two days, Merlin seemed more confused by their frantic and panicked behavior than anything else. His shocked and embarrassed face when Percival had helped him on and off his horse - "so he doesn't fall and get hurt", the gentle giant had rationalized - had been very amusing. All the while, Arthur planned out what they would do when they returned and repeatedly reassured Merlin that no, he wasn't too mad about Merlin letting the dragon live since Merlin could at least keep it away.

Then, they needed to ensure Merlin's protection in Camelot. Granted, there weren't many dangers in Camelot, but the clumsy fool could find danger anywhere. With his luck, Arthur would bet that Merlin would trip over some stairs in the castle and wind up bleeding out! That could be remedied by assigning knights to guard Merlin at all times in Camelot and keeping Merlin physically by his side as much as he could. Merlin raised an eyebrow at his new guards and schedule, which kept him glued to Arthur's hip at all hours of the day, but otherwise said nothing (besides a little mocking about how Arthur couldn't get anything done without him. Arthur tried not to think about how the familiar taunt rang far more true than he had ever realized.).

(Merlin, on his end, took these measures as a sign that he had lost Arthur's trust with the admission of letting the dragon live. What else was he supposed to think about knights following him 24/7 and being kept in Arthur's line of sight more than ever before?! Merlin consoled himself that it was by far more lenience than he had been expecting. Arthur hadn't threatened him, he wasn't being executed or exiled, Arthur was still treating him as a friend, and he had every chance to earn Arthur's trust back again. Really, if his punishment as just having to be with his knight friends at all times, then he could happily live with that.)

Still, Arthur didn't know how to go about the final part of his plan: ensuring that Merlin would have an heir to inherit his dragonlord powers and keep Camelot standing for generations to come. Of all of the trials and quests he'd faced, this one seemed to be the most daunting of all: finding a woman attracted to Merlin.

Arthur eventually settled on a plan. He'd have Gwaine accompany Merlin on long walks around the castle and the lower town, and the knight would report back to Arthur on which ladies had caught Merlin's eye, and which ladies Merlin had caught the eye of. Gwaine had a way to spotting attraction between people, something he frequently used to gather ammunition to tease his fellow knights with. With any luck, there would be some overlap between the two lists, and they could find some nice woman for Merlin to settle down with.

After a few weeks, however, Arthur found himself having to re-evaluate his plan. While Gwaine had reported that there were a good number of young ladies in the lower town that seemed to fancy Merlin, Merlin didn't seem to have eyes for anyone, which made their mission trickier.

Eventually, Arthur resorted to inviting Merlin over for dinner with him and Gwen, hoping to flaunt to Merlin how great the married life was and how Merlin was getting older and was running out of time to settle down and have children. To his disappointment, Merlin didn't seem to get the hint, instead telling both of them how much he appreciated them including him in their time together when they didn't have to. Arthur had to swallow back frustrated screams at his friend's obliviousness.

(Gwen, meanwhile, was perplexed by Arthur's push for Merlin to find a wife. At first glance, she would think that Arthur was worried about Merlin never settling down and starting a family, which was something Gwen sometimes worried about as well.

However, Arthur's push was more vehement than a concerned friend's. There was something there, some underlying passion forcing him to push Merlin towards a wife.

When Gwen finally realized the truth behind Arthur's efforts, it broke her heart. Gwen knew that her husband could be a bit old-fashioned in some ways, and that the prejudices that he must have grown up with as a noble were not easily shaken off, but still, that wasn't an excuse to be homophobic towards Merlin!

Gwen had figured out about her friend's preferences during the Lamia's attack, since Merlin was the only man unaffected. Truthfully though, Gwen had suspected long before that, given how Merlin had looked at both Lancelot and Gwaine. And while it was shocking for Gwen, she would support her friend no matter what!

So, she was very disappointed in Arthur's behavior. Arthur must have somehow learned about Merlin's preference towards men during their last quest, and now he was trying to pressure Merlin into finding a wife! She agreed that Merlin deserved a lovely family, but Arthur should not force him into the nobility's narrow definition of family! If Merlin wanted his lovely family to involve a husband instead of a wife and that's what made him happy, then that is what they all should wholeheartedly accept!

Gwen really needed to give her husband a stern talking-to before he could hurt Merlin with his prejudice!)

(Merlin, meanwhile, is far too sleep-deprived and stressed over keeping Arthur safe and the prophecy to even think about romance or starting a family. His disaster bisexual ass has too much on his plate right now.)

So, Arthur tries everything he could think of to find Merlin a wife. Unfortunately, Arthur is not nearly as good of a wingman to Merlin as Merlin was to him. Arthur had hosted many balls and feasts, making sure to invite attractive ladies around Merlin's age, but Merlin didn't even bat an eye at any of them.

Perhaps the only thing more frustrating than Merlin's lack of attention towards any of the young ladies of the court was the fact that, now that Arthur was looking for signs of anyone's affection towards Merlin, he could see how many members of his own court were smitten with his manservant.

And Arthur was just baffled because how?! How was that possible?! That Merlin, a lanky beanpole of a man with a blinding smile and charming wit and unending loyalty and eyes he could get lost in...

Where was Arthur going with that? Oh right. Merlin, with all of the suaveness of a wet sock, was somehow the object of desire for most of the ladies in waiting. Arthur was entirely baffled by it.

And just when Arthur thought that it couldn't get any worse, it did. It got so much worse when his wife sat him down and started lecturing him for some sort of prejudice that he was showing against Merlin by pushing him towards a wife, because apparently Merlin's eyes didn't stray towards women at all.

Look, Arthur knew that some of his own knights preferred the company of men, and he wouldn't begrudge them something like that. To each their own. But if Camelot was going to still be standing for Arthur's heir, Merlin needed to sire a son of his own.

After Arthur explained to Gwen the situation that they were in with the great dragon still alive and Merlin's life being the only thing holding the beast back from destroying Camelot, Gwen also became grave with the realization that they were stuck without a solution that would keep Camelot safe for the next generations.

Arthur moped around for a few weeks, unable to think of a single solution for the situation he had found himself trapped in. How on earth was he supposed to get Merlin to have a biological son if Merlin doesn't even like women?!

Wait, but Merlin had liked a woman, at one point. Perhaps his preferences had changed, but at one point, he was willing to sacrifice himself, to willingly confess to sorcery in front of Uther Pendragon, in order to keep the woman he loved alive. And Arthur knew that love like that didn't die easily. And Arthur should know, since he loved the same woman in the same way.

From then on, Arthur kept a keen eye on Merlin and his wife. He knew that his wife would never be unfaithful to him with Merlin, and Merlin had been nothing but supportive towards Arthur and Gwen's relationship, even when Arthur himself had given up on it. Still, Arthur knew that if Merlin had eyes for one woman in the world, it would have to be Gwen. He saw the way that Merlin looked at Gwen sometimes. Merlin didn't look at any other woman that way.

Gwen had confessed that she had romantic feelings towards Merlin at one point, and Merlin certainly had some sort of feelings for Gwen that went beyond platonic. Arthur swallowed dryly as he thought about it. Could... could that be the only way?

(Cue slowburn Mergwenthur, with Arthur trying to set up Gwen and Merlin together with a heavy heart, while the other two are kinda oblivious and mistake it as Arthur wanting a threesome, which they would be more than happy to go along with, along with Arthur slowly realizing his own feelings for Merlin.)

(Meanwhile, since Arthur's crap at communicating, Merlin doesn't actually realize that it all started because they thought that they needed Merlin to have a son to keep Camelot safe from the dragon after Merlin was dead. Upon Arthur finally telling him, Merlin then has to awkwardly informs them that he's immortal and doesn't really need to sire an heir.

Arthur, understandably, screams into a pillow at the news that his efforts were pointless, while his lovers laugh gently at him and start kissing him to make up for all the stress he had to go through.)

And that's all for this au! I hoped you liked Arthur's himbo-ness shining through one again!

Thanks for reading through my ramblings! :D

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin au #merlin prompts #merthur #arwen #mergwenthur #mergwen

465 notes · View notes

dotster001 · 9 months ago

Text

When You Escape Him, Staff

Summary: Yandere staff x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.

CW: yandere content, Stockholm syndrome, blackmailing, potentially ooc?, the void, implied previous injury,

A/N: It's finally finished! There are some spin off stories coming but they will not be weekly updates. I'll write them when I write them. Also, I know I said that I'd put out a poll for what series would get weekly updates, but I've gotten so many questions about Elder God, that I'm gonna do that one. Probably won't be Sunday's, but whenever I release the next part will start the cycle.

Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia Non NRC

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

To this day, you had no idea how you had escaped. But you had, and you'd been able to smuggle yourselves off the island and far away.

Your son had started to display signs of magical ability when he was three. You hoped it stayed a miniscule amount, considering you'd heard some people were just magic sensitive.

By the time he was eight, you realized you were not going to be lucky. By the time he turned twelve, you were burning the flyers that the dark mirror magically sent out. By sixteen, you and your son were full on panicking about the scouts that might come by to observe him, and the acceptance letter that would show up at the house.

It was a completely normal day. You'd gone to pick up your son from school, when his teacher excitedly came out to meet you.

“I have amazing news! A representative from NRC came today to test a few of our students!”

You froze.

“S/N was one of the one's they called, and he's been being tested for hours now! He's a shoe in! You must be so proud!”

You nodded rigidly, a stiff smile on your face.

She led you inside, and to one of the teacher conference rooms. Up to this point, you knew there was a chance it wasn't him. If it was anyone else, you could bargain with them.

The door opened, and your hopes were dashed.

“Ah! Welcome, welcome! I was just telling our precious chick that he has a place waiting for him among the students of our esteemed academy! He's almost as powerful as his papa! I couldn't be prouder!” At the last statement, Crowley brushed away an invisible tear.

“And I told him that I have no interest,” your son muttered angrily as he stared down at the table.

Crowley didn't react to what sounded like not the first refusal your son had given, and patted his lap excitedly.

As though everything was normal and you'd just go back to the nest.

“S/N,” you said coldly, calling him to your side. It wasn't like you were alone. If you and your son ran, shouting along the way, surely one of the teachers would hear you and get help. Your son stood to walk over to you.

It happened in seconds. His golden eyes flashed in mild irritation, and by the time you reacted he had already entered your space, and hoisted you over his shoulders.

“I consider myself a very magnanimous person, but you are pressing my patience.”

You shouted obscenities at him, trying to fight your way out of his grip, but to no avail.

“Stop squirming, or I will have to clip your wings-”

“Leave them alone!” Your son shot a fire spell at Crowley. A field around him blocked it, but he gazed at his son in parental pride.

“Just like his papa!”

“YOU'RE NOT MY PAPA!” He screamed, a blaze of fire exploding from around him.

It wasn't his fault he'd lost control. But you had a brief moment where you realized that without the field around Crowley, that would have killed you. As it was, the room was ablaze, and quickly growing out of control, causing your son to forget his anger, and panic.

Crowley sighed, and set you down. He summoned his staff, and quickly doused the fire. Then he turned to your son.

“I am a very generous man. I can pay for the damages done to the school. Which, judging by what I am seeing, is extensive. However, you both must come back to the nest.”

Your son just stared at him.

“If I don't pay for it, how do you think either of you is going to be able to pay this off? Especially not when word gets out that you attacked the Headmage of NRC. You will spend the rest of your life in debt that will continue to grow.”

“You're bluffing,” your son spat.

He definitely wasn't bluffing. You knew exactly what lengths he was willing to go to. You couldn't look him in the eye, opting to stare at the floor as you whispered,

“We'll come with you.”

“No!”

“We don't have a choice. Trust me, I know.”

“Aw, don't talk like that, treasure,” he said happily, scooping you back up and nuzzling his cheek against yours.

Your son looked at you with heart broken eyes. But there was nothing you could do. You'd always known what it looked like when he'd beaten you.

He'd let you leave…

You never wrapped your head around it.

He'd let you leave. Watched you walk out the door with your son. Hadn't said a word.

And he hadn't come after you.

It had been four years since then. You'd been doing as well as a single parent could do.

Any accounts you had created and hid from him, your government paperwork, your social media accounts; all of it was gone. The second you stepped foot out of his mansion, he'd canceled and frozen anything and everything you had in your name. You had started from square one.

But you were alive. And so was your son. You had found a job, and had built a small life for the both of you.

But this most recent set of bills was going to upset the delicate balance.

You stared down at the statements, and sighed. You wanted to cry. You'd fought so hard. But it all amounted to nothing. The weight of the world was crushing you, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from letting it show to your son.

An unknown number appeared on your phone. You picked up. Probably a debt collector. Maybe you could come up with an excuse.

“Are you done playing pretend? You're not cut out to be a stray.”

You stiffened.

“How did you get this number?”

“You're not in a position to ask me questions. How does it feel to be all alone? To bite your master, then get beaten by a wild pack of wolves?”

You stared back down at the bills, biting your lip.

“Nothing to say?” You could hear the amusement in his tone. It disgusted you, but he was right. You weren't in a position to fight him.

“What do you want?” You spat.

“I want you to admit you need me. That you can't support yourself and the pup, and that I'm the only one who is able to properly take care of you.”

“What the fuck-”

“I want you to tell me that you understand that a dog is useless without a master to care for it.”

“Gah! I'm not saying anything like that!”

“Alright,” he spat, hanging up before you could say anything else.

You angrily slammed your phone against the table.

“What's going on?” You heard your son's sleepy voice say. You turned over your shoulder, and saw him rubbing his eyes, staring at you sleepily. He was so small. So innocent. He deserved so much more.

You opened your arms, and he ran into them, snuggling against you.

“Baby, how would you feel if Daddy brought us home?”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah. We got separated, but I think he found us. Which means-”

“Daddy could take us home?”

You felt bile rise in your throat. Home. Home was stolen from you forever when a certain alchemy professor had decided you were his. But maybe home would be different for your boy. And you couldn't take that from him.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

You redialled the unknown number, half expecting him not to pick up. But he did, immediately.

You put it on speaker, and after a moment of silence, you heard, “Well?”

Your son was faster than you.

“Daddy, please come get us!”

Crewel’s breath hitched, and his voice was infinitely more tender when he spoke again.

“Of course, puppy. Daddy's coming to get you.”

Your son looked up at you with excited, warm eyes. Maybe this was for the best. It would be selfish of you to keep putting him through this. He had a father who would give him the stars in the sky if he so much as looked at them a certain way. Meanwhile, you could barely take care of yourself.

“We'll be waiting,” you said quietly.

You half expected him to go back to sounding angry and disappointed. Instead, he released a soft sigh, and said in a voice so kind that it brought tears to your eyes, “I've missed you, love.”

Sam's "friends" used to frighten you. They were the one's in charge of keeping you quiet in the back room while he worked.

Over time, you'd grown to tolerate them. They were terrifying. But they left you alone for the most part.

The day Sam had placed your son in your arms was the first time they'd spoken to you. You'd been alone, staring at your own hollow eyes in the mirror, reflecting on how you had to get this child away from him, when a whispery voice had hissed in your ear.

“We can free you.”

You'd refused to trade your soul, but you'd given up ten years of your life span. Over the years, they would update you if you needed to move. They would tell you what he was up to. They would hide you from new “friends” who would try to find you.

It was your son's 16th birthday. And something was wrong.

The "friend" who had offered you the deal in the first place was missing. They were always around, except for when Sam needed them. It was odd for them not to be there.

And you, yourself, felt weird. You'd woken up to a tingle in the tips of your fingers, and a disco party in your chest. You gotten up to wake up your son, then prepared him a birthday pancake. You placed a candle into it, and were about to light it, when it lit itself.

“Hello, friend,” you muttered. “Is something wrong? It's not like you to be gone for so long.”

You felt phantom fingers detangling a knot in your hair, and a voice hissed in your ear, “We serve more than just you.”

They sounded…oddly defensive. But you couldn't think about that now, because your son had just stumbled tiredly into the room.

“Aw, you shouldn't have,” he grinned when he saw the pancake. He leaned in and blew out the candle, before sitting down and digging in. You sat down in the seat next to him, digging into your own breakfast, when your “friend” released a hiss.

Suddenly, in the corner, a dark void opened up, and out stepped,

“Sam,” you whispered in terror, as you stood from your spot. You turned to your “friend” who was moving to join him.

“Hello, little imp. Long time no see,” he grinned at you, his eyes glowing bright lime as the room filled with fog from the void.

“Wait, I had a deal!” You shouted.

“We received a better offer,” your “friend”’s voice hissed with merciless glee. “Don't worry, we returned your ten years to you.”

“Damn, I wanted to see you for so long. But now that I see your face, I'm absolutely disgusted,” Sam spat bitterly.

The smoke wrapped around you like unbreakable ropes. You struggled against them, but they only grew tighter, quickly feeling suffocating.

He walked up to you, gripping your chin in his hand.

“I paid quite the price for you. And now I just want you to suffer like I did.”

“Wait-” your son cut in, seemingly finally able to break out of his shock.

This brought Sam's attention to him, his eyes filling with love and adoration.

“And there's my boy! Can you believe I spent years thinking a fate worse than death had befallen you?” Sam said sweetly.

“You're scaring me. Cut out whatever it is you're doing, and leave us alone!”

Sam's eyes flashed back to yours, a staff suddenly appearing in his hand.

“No. I made a deal after all.”

He stalked towards you, and you watched in horror as various shadow creatures restrained your son.

“I had to choose. You or my son.” The staff came up under your chin, pressing uncomfortably into your throat. “I used to worship you. And you gave me nothing,” he hissed. Then he smiled. “It wasn't that hard of a decision to make, really.”

His lips were pressed against yours, cutting off your air completely.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he breathed against you. He then shoved you, and you fell backwards into darkness, his hate filled glowing gaze the last thing you saw.

“Please, just, don't tell anyone about us. He's not interested in becoming a mage.”

It felt like you were pleading for your life. Because you were. Crowley had arrived at your son's school to scout students for the college. The second your son had gotten word, he'd called you, and you'd rushed to the school, prepared with a lie about a doctor's appointment you'd both forgotten. Crowley moved far too fast though, and had already found your son.

“Y/N. My employees' well being is of great importance to me!”

“I'm sure he's fine,” your son groaned in the seat next to you. “I really don't want to be a mage. So scout someone else, and leave us alone.”

Your boy was a good one. But his downfall was his strong sense of justice. You had never intended to tell him the lengths Ashton had gone to keep you, but he'd been relentless. You hadn't told him everything, but the both of you were pretty certain he might do something bad if he ever met the man.

Crowley looked at you both in disappointment. You remembered that look. It brought you back to your Ramshackle days when you were asking him to install heat, and he'd made you feel like you were asking for a million dollars. But you weren't his student anymore. You weren't his slave. He had no control over you.

“It would be a great shame for someone of your abilities to waste them. And besides,” Crowley’s disappointed frown turned into a frightening grin. “Around this time of year, a certain physical education professor gets rather whiney, and makes it everyone's problem. Now, whose fault is that?”

“He's a big kid. If he can't move on, that's his own fault. And if it's a problem, you can fire him,” you said bluntly, not going to feel guilted for what you'd done.

Crowley leveled a glare at you.

“I gave you a home. I gave you money. I gave you an expensive education, for free. I allowed you to keep your cat, and eventually your son. You owe me.” He snapped his fingers, and the mirror in the corner swirled to life. Suddenly, he was behind the both of you, yanking you from your seats, and shoving you through the mirror.

You both landed in a patch of grass, right behind a burly man in a memorable red sweatshirt. He hadn't noticed you yet. You pressed your finger to your lips, and pointed to the nearby woods. Your son nodded, and you both turned slowly.

Only to bump straight into Crowley.

“For Seven's sake, Ashton! Get it together!” Crowley snapped, causing the man of the hour to finally look over his shoulder.

His eyes widened, and he ran straight for you, wrapping you in a hug so tight that you thought your ribs might break. Again.

“Ashton,” you wheezed, feeling the familiar feeling of panic you always felt when he was involved.

“You're so scrawny,” he muttered in your ear. You were always “too scrawny” to him. But of course it would be the first thing he'd say to you after so long of being apart.

“I can't believe you survived out there,” he boomed loudly, holding you by the shoulders at arms length, looking you up and down with a jovial smile.

“Put them down!” Your son snapped, shaking you out of your fear momentarily. You looked over your shoulder to see him tied up in Crowley's “whips of love”.

Ashton’s eyes brightened even further.

“Ha ha! You look just like your old man! A few hundred pushups, and you'll be just as strong as I am!”

“Fuck you!”

Ashton's eyes darkened, and turned back to you, reigniting your terror tenfold. His grip on your shoulders tightened painfully.

“What have you been saying about me, Y/N?”

You shivered in terror. You knew that look.

“I didn't-”

“You don't deserve our love, you monster!”

Ashton tossed you to the side like you were nothing. You winced. He never seemed fully aware of what his strength was capable of. He marched up to your son, snatching him from Crowley.

“Looks like we need to do some training, to whip ya into shape.”

He snatched you under his other arm, storming off in the direction of the school.

“Vargas! Your students!” Crowley called after him, but he was completely ignored.

You were thoroughly soaked from the rain outside. You stood before him, staring at the ground in shame as he silently sipped tea, and studied you. Eventually, he sighed, standing up and placing the baby in the bassinet in the corner of his spacious bedroom. He returned to his seat, and sighed again.

“To say I am disappointed would be an understatement,” Mozus said sternly.

The door had been unlocked. In a moment of stupidity, you'd taken the chance to grab the baby and run. You hadn't realized that Trein had put up countless charms around the estate, including one that allowed the topiary knights to drag you back to him. If that wasn't enough, it was pouring. A mud puddle had been your undoing.

You dripped onto the floor, awaiting the speech and upcoming punishment.

“Look at me when I talk to you,” he snapped, and you quickly looked up. His face and demeanor were calm, but his eyes glinted in anger.

“I trained you to be a better spouse than this. What in the Seven's names were you thinking?”

He paused, seeming to wait and see what brilliant answer you would provide.

“I don't know,” you whispered.

“You don't know. Well, do you have any hints?”

You honestly didn't. Things had been peaceful recently. Up until the moment you ran out the door, you had convinced yourself you were finally able to be happy here. But seeing that unlocked door had stirred something in you. A final rebellion. A chance for your son, who shouldn't have to grow up under Trein's tyranny.

Now that you were under his scrutiny, however, all of that seemed to fade away. Instead, you were filled with embarrassment and guilt.

“I'm sorry,” you whimpered.

His glare softened into pure disappointment. Which, somehow, made you feel worse.

“Sorry won't clean the mud off my carpet,” he said tiredly. He looked you up and down, before pouring himself another cup of tea.

“I know.”

“You know I can't leave this unpunished?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you, unreadable, before he nodded to the door.

“Go clean yourself up, then wait for me in your room while I decide on your punishment.”

You nodded, trudging towards the door. Then the baby started to softly cry. Instinctively, you turned the child. Trein's expression turned soft, more tender.

“Go ahead,” he said, his voice full of love.

You picked up the baby, and made your way to your room.

633 notes · View notes

kryptznnn · 21 days ago

Text

♛- Come back to bed

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

➸ INTERESTS; -jjk! nanami kento x f!reader

➸ BACKGROUND; -not any plot truly, just straight smut, making love late at night MY FAV!! (im a whole virgin)

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.2.4k, kissing, teasing, riding, fingering, p in v, nipple play, sucking, whining, bla bla bla

➸a.i; - omg new oneshot!! i made a poll asking who i should write abt this morning and 100 votes came in for my sexy baby daddy so im here to feed u guys!! xoxo

.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖

You awoke in the middle of the night to your phone ringing softly, the vibrations from it on your nightstand making you get up. As you turned to grab your phone, the call ended, you only muttered to yourself as you were now sat up in your bed. You held your phone in your hand, realizing the call was from your close friend and checked the time.

1:13am, you read with a squint, still trying to adjust to the dimly lit screen this late at night.

There were only two reasons as to why she could call you this late. She was either having intrusive thoughts about breaking contact with her ex, or she was calling to tell you how drunk she was at her apartment, and she wants you to come and accompany her. You stood up, grabbing your soft silk robe from your closet door and stepped out of the room.

You made your way over to the kitchen, dialing her number back and waiting for her to answer. You grabbed a water bottle and opened it when she soon answered. Rambling on about how drunk she was and how much fun she was having, saying she didn't want you to miss out on it and for you to come over to her place, you only smiled and shook your head.

"It's past 1am, I was asleep when you called, you need to get some sleep too unless if you don't plan on clocking in later." You spoke, drinking from your bottle as you listened to her ramble, sadly it's as if she hadn't heard a single word you said.

She was always like this honestly; you couldn't blame her. Between the two of you someone had to be outgoing and crazy enough to do things like this. You could never be mad at her for it though, it was sweet honestly, even when she was intoxicated, she always had you in mind.

The conversation between the two of you soon wrapped up, as she assured you, she wasn't alone and was with her brother. She even facetimed you as proof and to which you spoke to her brother for a while. Thankfully he was a little more responsible than she was, assuring you that the night had ended, and the drinks were being put away so his sister could rest.

You only thanked him and wished him a goodnight, as he did in return to you and you said goodbye to your friend, waving as you heard the call click. You finished your water bottle and went to place the bottle in the shared recycle can you had in the kitchen before feeling two firm arms snake their way around your waist.

You only smiled, knowing exactly who it was as you were used to this multiple times before. You placed your hands over his arms and squeezed, earning a tired grunt from him as he bent down to kiss the top of your head.

"If you weren't my fiancé I would've screamed when you touched me y'know?" You joked, feeling him smile against the top of your head, he let go of your waist as you let go of his arms and he placed his hand in yours. He soon guided you out of the kitchen and back to the shared bedroom you two had, the dim lights from outside helping you to see his figure perfectly.

Your fiancé was a well-kept man, perfectly built as if sculpted by the gods. Honestly, even as a woman you were envious of his body, but when compared to others you were considered lucky, very lucky. So, you couldn't push it too much, because they were right, you were lucky.

"Come back to bed" Kento spoke, now entering your bedroom and sitting on your side of the bed where you were previously resting. You only smiled at him as you placed your phone back down on the nightstand, he never let go of your free hand, pulling you near him.

"You're such a flirt" you said to him, watching his every move. He only hummed in response and kissed your palm as you made your way on top of him, straddling him now. His other hand made its way to your lower back, now keeping you in place as his kisses traveled higher, from your palm to your arm and now your shoulder, not removing his eyes from yours.

You looked away nervously, feeling a familiar tingle in your lower belly, you knew exactly what he was doing. He soon placed his hand from your lower back onto the back of your neck, slowly bringing your head down to kiss him passionately. It felt nice, he felt nice, you couldn't complain, nor could you just turn or look away from him, you were captivated by him.

You were the first to pull away, your breathing heavy as you looked at him, he still kept his hand on the back of your head. He only pushed your head back for your lips to connect yet again, but not kissing the same as before. It was wet and sloppy, your tongues practically fighting-

no,

Dancing with one another, and it only made the weak feeling within your lower belly stronger as he moved his hands, now gripping both sides of your hips as he kissed you eagerly. You quickly pulled away, covering your mouth and wiping out of embarrassment as a small line of saliva dripped from it and down to your chin.

He only looked at you with a cheerful smile, loosening his grip on your hips and began to tug on your robe, wanting it to come off. In all seriousness, you weren't even properly dressed, without the robe you only had on a small black tank-top and red panties.

You let go of him for an instant, taking off your robe and tossing it, he smirked in approval. As you straddled him again you could feel him underneath you, the friction becoming unbearable as he continued to rub himself against one of your most vulnerable places. Well not him genuinely speaking, it was his co-

"Can I play with you baby? Just for a little while?" He asked, looking into your eyes and then your lips for an answer. You responded with a 'yes', soon after biting your bottom lip and watching his movements. Now seated in the middle of the bed you two shared he began to kiss your skin above your collarbone while you grinded on him, both of you partially clothed and breathing heavily.

He had gone to bed with nothing but his boxers on, but now he was threatening to take them off in one quick move, unable to bear the teasing anymore. His hands roamed your body, teasing your nipples through your top as you mewled softly, grabbing his wrist softly as you guided his hand lower to your now wet spot on your underwear.

Throughout the time of your twos dirty work not a word was spoken to one another, well, barely. You had known each other's bodies well enough and exactly what you craved, Kento knew this and quickly got to work, unbuttoning the one small button that was practically ready to burst out from his erection, letting it spring out free.

When you moved back a little to look at it, it looked like he was in pain. Like painfully hard, honestly this wasn't the first time, but it was sweet seeing how you had him this intense every time, he never seized to amaze you. He began to tug at your underwear, to which you got off the bed, standing up as he watched your every move.

You bent over, hooking your thumbs into the hems of your underwear where they sat nice and pretty on your hips, shimmying a little as you pulled them all the way down to your ankles and stepped out of them. You slowly made your way back onto the bed and on top of Nanami once again, who only looked at you in awe, and maybe hunger.

You only cupped your hands on both of his cheeks before kissing him again, this time he kept a hand on your hip as another one found its way to your core. He cupped it softly as you jolted slightly, feeling his middle finger brush against your clit. He smiled into the kiss, placing his thumb over your clit and rubbing it gently, feeling the vibrations of you grunting and moaning in his mouth.

You pulled away, keeping a hand over your mouth yet again and his own mouth as you felt him insert a finger inside you. Immediately pushing up into you as far as he could, watching as your shivered slightly, and removed your hand from his mouth, moaning into your hand. He soon removed his hand from your hip and grabbed your wrist, removing your hand from your mouth and kissed your palm yet again.

Within a short period of time, you felt an immense amount of pressure build up inside of you, making you immediately want to shut your legs. (Un)fortunately, your fiancé had already caught onto this, quick to hold one of your legs apart as he now quickened his pace, smirking at you.

He soon grabbed a hold on your tank-top after you promised to not close your legs, lifting and revealing your hardened nipples to him and the cold air of the room. He chuckled to himself slightly as he stuck his tongue out, teasing you and watching as your back arched before sucking on them and inserting another finger.

You quickly grabbed onto his shoulders, now riding his fingers as you were trying your best to reach your high and quickly, knowing he wouldn't let you cherish this bliss moment for long. He soon began to lick your upper torso, the sweat beads that rolled off your body were his to consume, as if your entire body was a drug he was high on.

It was as if you had jinxed it because just seconds before you were ready to cum, he quickly removed his fingers from within you, keeping his thumb on your clit and coming to a full stop in movement. Before you were even able to stop your moans and begin your whining and protests, he aligned his cock with your entrance.

Without warning or count he quickly thrusted himself inside, halting and burying himself within your chest as he moaned along with you, your nails now digging deeper into his shoulders. You had completely forgotten how vocal Kento was, damn near as vocal as you, and you loved every moment of it.

"No condom?" You gasped, now playing with his hair as he kept his head between year breasts, slowly moving inside you. He only shook his head slightly, bringing his head back up and looking you in the eyes and kissing you.

"You're to be my wife, no? Whatever my wife wants she gets." He only stated, now thrusting sloppily into you as you moaned. You attempted to bounce back on him while he thrusted into you, just for him to wrap both of his arms tightly around your bottom and thrust into you even harder.

Now repeating his earlier actions and sucking on your nipples, watching as you unraveled within his arms, only getting more turned on by the sight. His mouth now moved to your neck, giving you several hickeys and wet sloppy kisses.

As he quickened his pace you tapped his chest lightly, feeling the same blissful feeling as before coming back, your lower abdomen feeling as if it was floating while the rest of your body was hot and shaking. He only smiled, taking this as the most perfect time to tease you.

"M'gonna get you pregnant. It's what my wife wants, yeah? My baby is gonna grow right here..." He teased, placing his right hand on your belly and rubbing it as you mewled, nodding your head before you bent slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. Your high was approaching with great force and speed, barely able to contain it anymore.

"My beautiful girl is gonna be a mommy, are you excited baby? You excited that I get to fill you up?" He cooed, now rubbing your back with one hand and placing the other over your lower abdomen, pressing down slightly as your moans became louder. You hummed in response, nodding vigorously as your high had approached, exclaiming loudly, biting down on Kento's shoulder to control yourself as your body spasmed.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head for only a moment, soon after you came down, your breathing ragged. His thrusts had now slowed down, becoming sloppier than before as he began to breath heavier, his orgasm not far behind from yours.

As verbal as he was before he wasn't that way now, focused on reaching his orgasm as he screwed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths. As your head rested on his shoulder you too began to moan aloud and grunt softly, his thrusts overstimulating you as you had just come down from your orgasm.

You quickly began to clench around his cock, attempting to make him reach his high sooner, which worked. He buried his face alongside your side as he huffed, muttering a series of words, words of praise if you will, before completely reaching his orgasm. His last thrust sent shivers down your spine as he came inside of you, not leaving a single drop to waste, staying inside of you for a moment before pulling out and kissing your shoulder.

"Are you alright?" He asked, as you pulled away, looking at him and smiling, nodding to him as you brushed his hair away from his face, that had to stuck to his temple from his sweat. He smiled softly at you, seeing your tired expression and actions before fixing your side of the bed to sleep before joining you on his side.

You two exchanged little to barely any conversation between drifting off to sleep, his arms wrapped around you as you rested on his chest. You both had thought of the idea of cleaning up in the shower or changing into new clothes, but you were too exhausted to do so.

The last thing you can vividly remember before drifting off to sleep was how you were going to hide the love bites and hickeys he had given you before work the following morning. Scarves or giant sweaters weren't even in the question as it was the middle of the summer, and you sweat easily.

You'd find out when you got there.

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

#jjk fluff #jjk art #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanart #jjk spoilers #jjk x reader #jjk #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jjk kento #kento smut #kento x reader #kento x y/n #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #kryptznnn

176 notes · View notes

mysouleaten · 9 months ago

Text

HES MY SON! ..AND YES HIM TOO!

PLATONIC! child! izana, kakucho x PARENTAL FIGURE! reader

summary ... kakucho was getting adopted! .. but that meant he had to leave izana--his king-- behind ... OH! never mind he's coming home with him too!!

warnings ... angst, fluff, small violence, injuries, reader is gentle and patient with her new sons, izana is untrusting at first, kakucho warms up quickly to reader ... more warnings later

an ... this is like a little snapshot of what I want to write.. maybe turn it into a small series?? if this gets enough love then maybe I will..

! this is also an au where izana found out earlier that he wasn't blood-related to shin

izana's wide lavender eyes stared in horror at kakucho's new adoptive parent

kakucho--his devoted servant--was being taken away from him

and he couldn't do anything about it--legally at least

kakucho who stood by his new adoptive parent looked back at izana with tear-filled eyes, he didn't want to leave izana here.. he wanted to be with him by his side forever

how were they supposed to build their kingdom if.. he was away from izana?-- his king.

his adoptive guardian had gently taken his hand and started to walk away with him.... leaving izana behind, his kingdom. his-

why did they stop?

"izana? why aren't you coming with us? it's time to go home! its getting late, you two must be hungry!"

wait, huh?

I might make a poll later and see if anyone would read this series?

478 notes · View notes

beomboomboom · 10 months ago

Text

Drunk with love

genre: fluff, established relationship

pairing: Seungcheol x reader

summary: Seungcheol has experienced your drunk self more than once before. He's seen everything. He's seen you dramatically confess your love to him years ago, he's seen you yell love song lyrics for him at the top of your lungs. But this was the first time you forgot that you and Seungcheol were dating altogether.

warnings: alcohol/drinking, a little bit of swearing (like very little)

note: based on the results of this poll. I hope you enjoy the fic <33

"Cheolliee~ can you pick me up?"

Seungcheol lets out a sigh at the sound of your tipsy voice. He knew it was a bad idea to let you go out drinking with your friends.

Not that your friends were bad influences or anything, but when you got drunk, you got drunk.

Meaning, you couldn't even walk three steps without either throwing up or passing out.

"Okay baby, I'm going to come get you. Just wait outside the bar okay?"

"Okiee~ the world is spinningg...," he hears your intoxicated voice say. Taking that as a sign, he grabs a few plastic bags and stuffs them in his pocket on the way out of the house, already preparing for what he knows is to come.

As Seungcheol gets into his car and sets off towards the direction of the bar where you're at, he hears your drunk self let out a whine, "Where aree you Cheolliee, I need to tell you somethingg."

Phone still pressed against his ear, Seungcheol lets out a little laugh, amused at the way you're acting.

Deciding to humor your drunk self, he replies softly, "hmm, okay. How about you tell me when I come get you, does that sound alright?"

He can already picture what you're looking like at this point. Your cheeks are probably littered in a pink hue, evidence of your drinking activities, your hair a pretty mess, and your lips in a pout. You're also probably going cling onto Seungcheol the moment he finally arrives to pick you up.

Seungcheol smiles softly at the thought.

Even though dealing with your drunk self is a pain in the ass, he still loves it nonetheless. The way you show your unfiltered love to him is something that always makes him laugh and his heart swoon.

"but cheol...what I'm going to tell you...I might regret..."

Seungcheol's heart stops at your words.

No longer humoring your intoxicated words, Seungcheol worriedly ponders what in the world you could possibly mean. Seungcheol knows that when you're drunk, your filter completely disappears, which makes him worried. What kind of secret were you keeping from him that would make you say "I might regret this"?

"What do you mean by that baby?"

"well....I'll tell you in person. It's better that way. OH! I see your car, I'm coming in."

Seungcheol watches your figure, holding your phone to your ear, as you shakily stand from the bench outside the bar and stumble closer and closer to his car.

Before crumpling to the ground unexpectedly.

"Oh shoot," Seungcheol mutters under his breath as he quickly jumps out of the car and helps you stand up.

"You okay baby? Let's get in the car hm?"

But rather than replying and letting Seungcheol lead you into the car, you simply lean against Seungcheol and begin to cry. Eyes widening, Seungcheol quickly takes your face in his hands and wipes your tears away with the pads of his fingers.

"Awww baby, do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"I-I-I" you start to say, and let out a small hiccup before shouting," I LOVE YOU!"

"Well, I lov-" Seungcheol starts to reply, but is quickly interrupted by your drunken rambling.

"I know this might ruin our friendship or whatever, but I can't stop my feelings for you. I just love you too much. I love you so much that i'll break the promise we made in second grade to never have a crush on one another. I love you so much that i'll risk our friendship to tell you that I love you. And I love you so much that if you don't love me back, I'll accept it."

With each word being let out of your mouth Seungcheol can feel his endearing smile grow by the second.

"Baby, I think you don't understand. We're dating right now. We were best friends before, but then you confessed to me just like how you're doing now. "

"What no way. You're lying to me. Stop joking around with me Cheollie," you say, a furrow in your brow as you try to decipher the new information.

"I'm not," Seungcheol replies, with a little laugh under his breath at the situation. The way you can't believe you're dating him makes him want to giggle and kiss you senseless at the same time.

"Then show me," you challenge, deadly serious.

Wasting no time, Seungcheol gently grabs your face with his hands and places a chaste peck on your lips. "Let's go home now hm?"

Smiling contently, you let Seungcheol take hold of your hand, and lead you towards the car.

It's after you and Seungcheol take around three steps when your eyes widen and you mutter a quiet "uh oh" and shake Seungcheol's shoulder vigorously.

Already knowing what's about to happen, Seungcheol swiftly takes out a plastic bag from his pocket and hands it to you. As you get all of the alcohol out of your system and into the plastic bag, Seungcheol holds your hair away from your face and rubs comforting circles on your back. "How about we go home and get cleaned up. Does that sound okay with you?

You manage a small nod in response and lean on Seungcheol as he helps you get into the car and buckle your seatbelt. In only a few seconds Seungcheol buckles his own seatbelt too and you and Seungcheol make the short journey home.

As Seungcheol is driving home, he gazes at your passed out figure in the passenger seat. Shaking his head, he simply smilies and lets out an endearing laugh,"you better repay me with lots of kisses and cuddles tomorrow."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #choi seungcheol #scoups x reader #scoups fanfic #scoups imagines #scoups fluff

472 notes · View notes