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— After the Dust Settles / Elrond x Fem!Reader
summary: Elrond finds you after the fall of Eregion. Startled by the condition he’s in, you’d do anything to bring him the relief he needs.
warnings/tags: NSFW 18+ ONLY!!! hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, idiots in love (reader is the biggest idiot, sorry), healthy dose of mutual pining, reader is an elf, some miscommunication, minor injury and blood, smut, fingering, pinv sex, reader has medieval expectations and elrond exceeds because I! say! so!
a/n: alright, first non star wars fic on tumblr, whatever whatever. it’s not gonna become a thing unless... this man has not left my mind since the end of season 2 so here, have this. I am not the most well versed in The Lore pls don’t crucify me for it. [@jetii here it is, as promised]
writing masterlist / join my taglist / read on ao3 / word count: 6k
Since the elves had been afforded sanctuary by the rings, you had been trying to busy yourself with any number of menial tasks to help ease minds, distract your own at all costs. The battle for Eregion had taken not only people’s lives, but the will of the ones who remained, and with what little of your sanity you had left you picked up where others could not face continuing.
You were inside the walls of the city when the orcs attacked, an archer on the last line of defence. The effort was futile, and it had been apparent even before the battle had begun. Watching so many of your kind fall into the clutches of death was more than you had bargained for, and something you wouldn’t soon forget. Your quiver and bow laid at your side, a piece of you unwilling to part from them still.
Now in the safety of the valley, you had set up a small tent, where people could come to have their ailments tended to with a preferred level of privacy. You were no healer, but they were few and far between in present company, so you did what you could. The curtain of night had been drawn for some time, the first time since the end of the battle, and the amount of patients had dwindled into nothing a few hours ago while the sun still clung to the horizon. You were organising what few resources you did have, crouched to view the label of each vial in the small cabinet, and you missed the light scratching of the tent canvas as it slid open.
Your name was called from behind you in a quiet voice, almost sounding like a plea. You turned, finding your beloved friend Elrond standing rigid in the doorway of the tent, his eyes dark and unmoving from yours. His name left your lips in a hoarse whisper as you took in the sight of him. His skin was marred by dirt and blood, a gash cutting him open along the cheekbone, his posture uncharacteristically slumped and hair falling loosely around his face. He still wore his armour from the battle, painted much the same as his skin.
“I did not know if you—“ he seemed to stop himself from speaking, pressing his lips together as he hung his head. His eyes slid closed, and he took a deep, steadying breath.
You raised yourself from the ground, taking a tentative step towards him, “what is it, Elrond?”
His gaze raised to you once more at the sound of your voice, and he shook his head lightly, the tiniest of tired smiles lifting his lips, “I am glad you are safe, is all”
“And you, my lord” you replied, stepping up to him properly now, and raising your hand to his chin to tip his head to the side. His hair fell across his forehead as you traced a finger along the underside of the cut, inspecting.
“Please, you know that is unnecessary” he insisted, taking another deep breath as he watched you carefully. You knew how the title irritated him so when passing your lips, the reason for its passing every time you saw him. “It does not hurt” he claimed, referring to his cut.
“I hear it’s Commander these days” you paid his comment no mind, instead taking in every small scratch that littered the surface of his skin. Your chest tightened at the sight, at the very idea of the elf before you being hurt, having death breathing down his neck. It was beyond relieving that he had made it through the battle.
Elrond’s face drew a tired expression, one of quiet exasperation at your persistence. His hand took hold of your forearm, “please, you need not fuss”
“It must be cleaned” you asserted, dropping your hands from his face and turning away.
“Melnā, I do not need—”
“Take a seat” you spoke with no room for argument, ignoring the endearment that made your heart flutter as always, “I will return in a moment”
Taking a step outside, you let yourself breathe in the night air. It really was beautiful here, the moon shining over the water and casting a cool glow along its surface, the trees gently swaying in the breeze as if cradled in its arms. You collected water from the stream just a short distance from the tent, your mind dwelling on the elf that stood just beyond its entrance.
You had known Elrond for what felt like lifetimes, and for any mortal it would have been. In all that time you had never ceased to be enamoured by him. It was quite impossible not to be. He was kind, giving without thought, an attentive healer and a good friend. Possibly that was why it was so odd that you found yourself in this position, or perhaps that was exactly why. He hadn’t come to you for healing, because that wasn’t what this was about, this was caring for him when he needed it most, whether he’d acknowledge it or not.
He’d always been affectionate with you, in a way that you could face reciprocating. It was more his words than anything, which was not surprising in the least. Though proven a cunning warrior in surviving the recent conflict, his tongue had always been far sharper than his sword. He spoke with intention only, quiet when words held no meaning, avoiding pleasantries when he could, though he always took the time to spare you words of adulation that felt unearned from such a person.
No matter his insistence in speaking it, you could not return the affectionate nickname he called you; melnā. Beloved. It was too real, striking the very deepest part of your heart, where nothing but your love for him resided, festering.
You pulled aside the canvas of the tent, venturing back inside with the pot of water at your hip. Elrond sat in the chair as you had requested, his head tilted back, eyes closed, weighted down by lack of rest. You had never seen him so defeated. His back was curled against the chair, arms hanging limp against his thighs, one leg outstretched and the other falling out to the side. It was disheartening, to say the least, that this elf you knew to be strong-willed above all else was so beaten, inside and out.
You moved silently, not wishing to disturb his moment of peace. It may be the first chance he had had since the battle, after all. You retrieved a cloth, and tentatively approached his slumped figure. It was the sound of water trickling from the cloth that drew him from his stupor. His eyes opened and found yours as you stood hunched over the pot beside him, his posture straightening, more reminiscent of his usual demeanour.
“My apologies” he murmured.
“Your apologies are unnecessary” you spoke softly, wringing out the cloth, “please, rest if that is what your body calls for”
His brows pinched a little, offering a tender look that tugged at your heart. He was so unused to having kindness offered to him, being the one that so often gave it out, that you knew the simple notion had surprised him.
He slumped against the chair once again, eyes never leaving you as you folded the cloth into a neat square; an unnecessarily proper gesture that would soon be proved pointless as the white material became riddled with dirt and blood. You stepped around the pot so you stood in front of him, and took his chin between your fingers once more, tipping his head to get a better look at the wound. As the cool cloth met the warmth of his skin, all of his breath left him in a sharp exhale.
He flinched away only marginally, evidently trying to remain still against the sting. You whispered an apology, but continued on cleaning his wound until the regular hue of his skin shone through the grime. Thankfully the cut wasn’t deep, and really he was lucky to come away from the fight so unscathed where most fell. Though it didn’t stop the way your chest tightened at the simple idea of him being hurt.
Elrond had always been collected in a particularly admirable way, but now as his frustrations could be seen peeking through the cracks of his noble exterior, you were more worried than anything. Only months ago had he been the bright-eyed elf you knew, full of a certain hopefulness that seemed unending. Now as he sat before you, his grey eyes were dimmed, as if someone had snuffed his spark, the state of Middle Earth turning them cold, clouded. Where they had been the welcome mist of an early morning, there was now a storm brewing in them.
He was much changed from who he was, and your heart broke for him.
“You are hurting” he observed in a low voice. You hadn’t known he’d been watching you so closely.
You shook your head, avoiding his gaze, “I am unharmed”
His eyebrows drew together as he turned his head, forcing you to stop your movements. “It is not your body” he claimed, taking your wrist as you tried to continue, “it is your mind”
The feel of his fingers wrapped around your skin, the unwavering scrutiny in his eyes, was dizzying. You tried to deny the way your stomach flipped, butterflies taking flight, but it was made difficult by the raising bumps along your skin, the heat that creeped up your neck.
“I did not realise you could read the thoughts of others, Elrond” you deflected, your tone light, almost jesting.
He scoffed quietly, his grip loosening on your wrist, “it was merely an informed assumption”
“Informed” you chuckled as you resumed wiping the muck from his face, stepping forward a little, “pray tell?”
“Your face betrays you” he claimed, turning his head away and spreading his knees wider for your ease.
You sighed, following the sharp line of his jaw with your eyes, clenched in pain of either flesh or mind, most likely both. You focused on cleaning the area, gently urging him to relax with smooth motions from his cheekbone down to his chin. His eyes closed with a soft breath leaving his lips, his mouth falling open.
“It troubles me to see you this way, mellon nín” you confessed quietly, “it is so unlike you”
He hummed thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in a deep frown, “It is just a small cut, it will be fixed in a matter of hours”
“It is not your wound that concerns me” you replied, an edge of stringency that you hadn’t intended. He looked up at you with a timidity to his gaze that was hard to ignore. His guard was up, and it was so foreign to see on his features. “May I speak plainly?”
The smallest smile reached his darkened eyes, “as if you would do anything but”
A gentle laugh escaped you, creasing your eyes with a fondness before they grew sad. You skimmed the back of your fingers over his clean cheek very lightly, and he turned to face you once more. “I am worried for you, Elrond” you whispered, “you are much changed from the elf I once knew”
He sighed desperately, hanging his head, “it is not by any great effort of my own”
“I am aware” you returned, slipping your hand under his jaw to raise his head. The shame in his eyes was hard to bear, and you stroked your thumb across his cheek in a delicate gesture. “What can be done?”
“You need not worry about me” he assured, “wrongs will be righted in time, it is the way of things.” A long breath passed your lips as you stared down at him, worry never leaving your expression. Elrond lifted a hand to you, flattening his palm against the outside of your knee and rubbing up and down in a comforting manner, “please do not fret, melnā nín“
You could feel your cheeks burn at the endearment, and busied yourself by focusing on the task at hand, threading your fingers through the hair that fell over his forehead to push it back. “You should not call me that” you muttered, dragging the cloth over his temple.
“Why?” he rebutted softly, thumb tracing over the top of your knee, “because I am ‘changed’?”
You frowned at him, not understanding the question, “because you do not use it for its intended meaning”
The statement made him sit up immediately, his back straightening so he drew closer in proximity, his chest almost flush against you, “why do you assume so?”
His sudden closeness was as startling as his words, and you were left with your hands in the air, unsure what to do with them, your mouth hanging open and trying to find the right words. “I— I do not take your meaning”
”You believe that I do not mean the words I speak, why is this?” He asked lowly, skimming his hands up the outside of your thighs, resting them at your waist.
To say that you felt flustered would be an understatement. Elrond stared up at you with determined curiosity, a soft seriousness that would make anyone feel cared for, that their words mattered more than life itself. The weight of his hands on your hips was unfamiliar, yet so comfortable, though that was not surprising. This was Elrond, after all. He was impossibly kind and purposeful at the worst of times, a dependable elf beyond measure and in all your years of friendship he had not once seen fit to slight you in any way.
Yes, friendship, because the question of more had always seemed impossible to ask, and thus been unanswered.
“We are friends, Elrond, I—”
“You are right” he interrupted, removing his hands from your body and sitting back against the chair, “Forgive me”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes as his head dropped back, sighing deeply. You didn’t know what the appropriate thing to do was in this specific scenario, but the dirt that he had smeared over his cleared skin was demanding your attention.
“Do not do that” you instructed quietly, taking the dirty hand from his face and sighing deeply as you looked upon it.
You wrung out the cloth into another basin and returned it to the fresh water, then brought it to his hand, kneeling by his side. You felt the weight of his gaze on you as you wiped the dirt from his skin, but refused to indulge in it. It was selfish to seek anything from him in this moment, when he was so broken, in need of someone to care for him.
“You are tired” he observed correctly again. He had always been able to read you far more easily than you were comfortable with.
“Everyone in this valley is tired” you deflected.
“I am not concerned with them at the moment” he spoke resolutely. You finally met his eyes, and the way they shone with intent set your stomach alive, “this is unnecessary. You require rest”
“Please” you pleaded quietly, “just— let me do this for you, just for this one time”
He exhaled softly, looking upon you with a pitiful expression as he raised his clean palm to your jaw. His thumb swiped across your cheek, but he pulled away almost right away. “I will…” he trailed off, taking hold of your forearm, “but I won’t have you stationed at my feet like this”
He pulled you up, and then directed you to sit on the arm of the chair, laying your legs across his lap. You obliged, your voice stuck in your throat, and his arm wound around your waist, splaying his palm against your lower back to steady you.
He gave you a gentle smile, “you may continue, if you wish”
You nodded, and took his other hand, quickly wiping away every inch of dirt that covered it until you reached the edge of his armour, where the skin was untouched by grime. You then raised the cloth to his neck, and much to your surprise, Elrond dropped his head back with a pensive sigh as his eyes slid closed. Watching every movement he made as you cleaned him, you became more and more entranced. His hand slid to your hip as you ran the cloth under his ear, earning another uneasy exhale, and when you reached the lip of his armour, dragging the white material just below the surface of his tunic, a small shudder wracked his body.
You had finished your work now, the visage that was once covered by dirt was clean, shining brilliantly in the low candlelight of the tent. Elrond still laid with his head back, and the exposed skin of his neck was all too tempting, beckoning you. You ran your fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face and drawing another shaky breath from him. With the confidence that your touch was affecting him in the way you had thought, you took a leap of faith.
His skin was soft under your lips as you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and Elrond’s grip on your hip tightened, his breath stuttering. You placed another gentle kiss against him, this time to the column of his throat, and you watched as it bobbed in reply. Elrond’s other hand now securely held your thigh, tracing circles into fabric of your tunic, and you continued to gently press your lips to his neck, slowly exploring the skin that was now exposed to you.
“Melnā” he whispered in a soft exhale, and you felt your blood running hot.
“What is it, meleth nín?” you murmured against him, continuing to litter his skin with affection.
Elrond’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he was silent, his breath coming out in shallow pants, as if trying not to be heard. You paused your movements, and awaited his answer.
“I am not sure you understand what you are doing to me”
You raised your head at his assertion, meeting his dark gaze head on and trying to contain the embarrassment you felt, “I shall stop, we never need mention this again”
Elrond shook his head. “You misunderstand me” he said, sitting up so his forehead met yours, “I would not want you to do this simply because you felt I needed it”
You frowned, moving your gaze between his eyes and searching for something you weren’t entirely sure of. “I would not deny that” you spoke quietly, and watched as a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features, “but selfishly, it would not be the sole reason”
His eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and for a moment he just stared at you, as if to figure out whether or not the words had really slipped from your lips. His hand left your thigh to hold your jaw, closing his eyes as he leant into you, “it does not bother you?”
“What doesn’t?”
“That I am… different, as you say?” He murmured in reply, lifting his head so his nose gently rubbed against yours.
“Elrond…” you sighed as you took his face in both hands, and his eyes fluttered open to meet your gaze, “you are not capable of the kind of change that would squander my high regards for you, nor quell my affections”
He exhaled, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your lips, “what would you allow me?”
“Anything” you replied in a whisper, “everything”
Elrond’s arm tightened around you, and his other hooked under your knees as he slowly stood from his seat, taking you with him. He kept his eyes on yours as he made his way over to the bed you had set up, and finally you could see some of the darkness receding from them. If you were to serve as a distraction for him, with nothing given in return, then you would do it gladly, no matter the pain in your heart. You knew it was foolish, to allow yourself to be burned at his stake, but when he treated you so gently, as if you were precious, as if you’d break if he released you, you didn’t seem to care.
He placed you down on the thin mattress, moving to remove his armour before you protested. “Allow me” you directed him to sit down instead, and knelt in front of him to slip off the pieces of his armour without another word. The process felt almost religious, a ritual of sorts, each piece falling away to reveal his slender form. You stacked the pieces neatly to your side, taking care not to damage the fine craftsmanship, despite it being designed for that express purpose.
When the last piece was placed down, you finally lifted your eyes back to him. Your insides buzzed with nervous energy, but you couldn’t lose your confidence now, and so you placed your hands on his thighs, sliding them upwards as you raised to your knees. For a moment you just took him in, his weary smile, the tiredness in his eyes, slack jaw. He was so fatigued, and to offer him some semblance of tenderness in this state felt like a monumental privilege. His hands found your body, sitting comfortably at your waist, and you were snapped back into the moment.
“You do not need to do this” he reminded, gently kneading your skin to bring you closer.
You shook your head, “I want to, if you’ll allow me”
His expression softened further, “you need not ask, my love”
You nudged his jaw upwards with your nose, planting a kiss just beneath and making his body deflate in relief. You drew a slow path towards his ear as your hands slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palms. Every movement you made was calculated, a precise act, aimed to release any lingering tension that he held within his body. You tried hard not to lose yourself in his presence, in the natural scent of his skin, in the feel of his breath against your own neck, and succeeded by focusing on every sensation as it arose, keeping yourself present.
You slowly peeled back his shirt, allowing you access to the skin below, but before you could explore any further, Elrond’s voice cut through the silence.
“Stand for me” he said lowly, his lips almost brushing your ear as he spoke and causing a shiver to run down your back, desire pooling low in your stomach.
You obliged right away, pushing off of the floor to stand before him. First, he took you calf and slid one shoe from you, and then repeated the action for the other foot. He took hold of the ties that were holding your tunic up and slowly untied you from the material. The fabric slid from your shoulders with ease, pooling around your ankles on the floor. The chill of night, barely concealed by the tent, blew against your bare skin, nipping at you as the edge of self-consciousness did in the same moment. You were bare to Elrond now, and his hands traced down your sides as he took in the sight, a certain reverence to his gaze that sent your mind towards puzzlement.
As his hands reached your thighs, he pulled you slowly towards him, positioning you over him so you straddled his lap. Before you could continue the exploration of his skin, his own lips made contact with your shoulder, and he littered kisses downwards along your collarbone, languid motions that made your head spin. You breath caught in your throat as his hand skimmed up the inside of your thigh, and you let out a choked exhale when you felt his fingers dip between your folds. Your head fell forwards, resting your forehead against his shoulder as he continued his efforts, tracing circles around your sensitive bud, which only made your breath heavier and heavier.
You panted his name, disbelief colouring your tone, not expecting him to pay any attention to your needs. It would have been ample to care for him, but receiving it back, you realised just how much you needed it. The battle had been tough on you as well, and the way that your body relaxed under his touch reminded you of that fact.
A small chuckle left his lips at your incredulity. “You did not expect this?” He deduced correctly once again. You couldn’t answer, for the way his fingers expertly played against you was rendering you unable to speak. “You thought I would neglect you in this way?”
“I… n— yes?” you stuttered out unsurely, silenced by your own moan at Elrond doubling his efforts.
“Mm, as I thought” he teased lightly, his voice low as his lips drew near to your ear. You breathed heavily, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your lips sealed for the fear of what sounds might erupt if given the chance. Not trusting yourself to stay quiet, you buried your face in his neck. Elrond hummed disapprovingly, “I want to hear you, pretty one”
Urging you on in his request, Elrond slowly slipped his fingers past your entrance, taking his time to coax every possible ounce of pleasure from you, and earning a shaky moan against his neck.
“That’s it” he cooed, his other hand kneading the skin of your waist in time with the fingers that worked inside of you, “I have you”
His words reminded you I’m an instant that this was not to be the purpose of this endeavour, and your hand flew to his wrist, pausing his movements. “Elrond, this was supposed to be for your benefit”
Elrond shook his head. “That may have been your intention” he withdrew his fingers a little before sinking them back inside, “but I can see that you are just as weary as I”
“No, I—” your hips twitched forwards instinctively as he picked up his pace, “I insist”
”Do you?” He said in an amused rumble.
You tried to regain authority over your ragged breath, some semblance of control over your body, but Elrond was playing you like a harp. He strummed the strings of your pleasure like he knew the tune by heart, every movement instinctive and adept, swells in dynamic that built up towards a climax. You were getting there quickly far quicker than anticipated. The pads of his fingers pressed against your walls, the base of his palm working your clit, and you could feel everything within you pulling taut.
“Elrond—” his name fell from your lips in a needy whisper.
“What do you need?” He replied quietly, never faltering in his pace.
“I—”
The question confounded you. Never before had you been asked such a thing, not in the height of pleasure at least. Your mind couldn’t wander far given the situation, but for a moment you tried to produce an answer for him.
“Tell me” he urged again, more insistent now, “what do you want?”
“I want—” the minor difference in wording, with the added knowledge of Elrond’s cock straining against his trousers and pressing against your leg, brought the answer to you more readily. “I want… you, Elrond” you breathed out, hips buckling against him to punctuate your point.
An uneasy groan sounded in his throat, reverberating against your cheek as you remained pressed against him. He pulled his fingers from you quickly, and within the next second he had flipped you over so you were beneath him. You reached for the tie of his trousers as he did, eager to remove the final piece of clothing that restricted him from you.
Elrond slotted himself between your legs to the tune of your small whimper, but he paused. His face hovered above you, his eyes flicking between yours, searching. It was as if he was waiting for something, but you couldn’t decipher what.
“You have not kissed me” he muttered, his eyes briefly flicking to your lips before his steadfast gaze returned to yours.
Your eyes widened a little at the observation, unsure of the waters you were about to dip your toe into, “you would let me?”
The expression on Elrond's face as he pulled back was purely scandalised, his brows settled in a deep frown, “whatever do you mean?”
“I—” you tried to find the words to express what you had previously thought, but now it all sounded ridiculous.
“You believe I do not—” words failed him in a moment of disbelief, and then his expression softened once more, his palm resting against your cheek, “meleth nín, forgive me for such unkind words, but… you are a fool”
Your brows drew together a little. He had never called you anything of the sort, but knowing him, ever intentional with his words, you didn’t doubt that he was right.
“To doubt my deep affections for you is to deny the very rising and setting of the sun. Do you truly think so lowly of me that I would allow you this without returning your desire in equal measure?”
You could only blink up at him after such a confession, but once his words began to sink in, you realised the depth of your folly. Of course the reverence in his gaze, the tenderness of his touch, was not because anyone was giving him this kind of affection, but because it was you. The thought struck you so suddenly that you became breathless, your cheeks heating. To engage in this act, usually reserved for marriage, he must have more admiration for you than you gave him credit for. Elrond was right, you were a fool.
“I do not” you spoke resolutely, “I have only the highest of regards for you”
“Then hear me now” he pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing, “I have waited centuries to embrace you in this way. Every moment in your presence has been excruciating, longing for more than what I thought possible, waiting for the day that you changed your mind about me. Now that the day has finally arrived, I do not intend to spare you such an intimacy without knowing the taste of your lips”
“Elrond…” you whispered, reaching up to mirror his palm against your cheek, “my mind remains unchanged. This is the way I have always felt”
His eyes widened, a light scoff escaping him in complete surprise, “then we are both fools”
“I believe you may be right” you chuckled at his reaction, you hand tangling in his curls with the reward of a delighted sigh. The look of contentment on his face was enough to melt you into the fabric of the sheet you laid upon. “You are so beautiful, melnā”
Elrond rested his forehead against yours, “what ever beauty I possess pales in comparison to the fortune of looking upon such fair features as yours”
“Such flowery words” you lips quirked, teasing his lyrical ways.
Elrond chuckled, skimming the pad of his thumb across the skin beneath your eye, “you are worth the time it takes to speak them, my love”
At long last, Elrond brought his lips to yours. He kissed you firmly, deeply, every bit of his usual sincerity woven into the action, and you quickly lost yourself in him as you had aimed to prevent before. His hands roved your body in featherlight touches, mapping the shape of you as his kisses grew more insistent.
Soon he began to explore past the bounds of your lips, traveling along your jaw. His breath ghosted over your ear, pausing for only a second, before he gently brushed his lips against it. Your breath caught in your throat, almost choking by the uneasy rhythm of it as he grazed his teeth against your earlobe. It was the first time anyone had ever touched your ears, and the gesture was so uniquely intimate, so undeniably pleasurable, that you couldn’t help the way your finger’s tightened in Elrond’s curls.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing his body closer. The both of you moaned in tandem as his hardened length came into contact with your core, Elrond whispering a curse as he buried his face in your neck. He repeated the action with more intention, taking hold of his cock to run it through your folds, slick with arousal. Your breath shortened as he circled your clit with the tip, your mind becoming hazier. Elrond lifted his head and pressed his forehead to yours, and you felt his shaky breath against your lips. The question was clear in his eyes, asking for your permission, and you tightened your legs around him to reply.
His tip passed your entrance, stretching you open in the most pleasant way. The melody of your moans only intensified as he slowly sank into you, his hand gripping your hip tightly. His eyes were screwed shut, and he swore under his breath again, his lips brushing yours in the process. He released his hand from your hip, smoothing over the skin that he had held so tightly, as if to soothe any hurt he had caused. If he had, you hadn’t noticed.
Elrond pulled out almost completely, before he sank back in with a slow roll of his hips. He set a steady pace at first, both of you just revelling in the feel of being so connected, so close. He brought his lips to yours once more, taking his time to really taste you, to feel every movement so deeply.
His hands smoothed down your sides as he pulled away slightly to gaze down at you, goosebumps raising under his touch. “You are so perfect” he spoke reverently, his tone nothing short of worshipping, and you could feel your cheeks flush, even now. The change in angle had your back arching, and as a heavy moan left your lips, Elrond gripped your hips tightly again. It seemed that something in him snapped after that, any restraint that he had demonstrated melted away, and letting what desire coursed through his veins take ahold of him.
His pace was fracturing then, his breath heavy against your skin as he leaned over to paint affection across your collarbone and chest. His fingers danced along the skin of your abdomen, taking a path downwards that had you already writhing at the anticipation. He drew tight circles around your clit, and combined with the feel of his cock dragging against your walls, hitting the deepest parts of you, you were ready to come undone in a matter of seconds.
“That’s it, meleth nín. Let go for me” he whispered against your ear, the added sensation of his lips against the sensitive area making your orgasm rip through you almost immediately.
Your vision blurred, white hot bliss searing through your veins as you were pushed over the edge, and Elrond followed you over, letting out a low grunt as he spilled all of himself inside of you. He held himself over you as he regained his breath, meeting your eyes again and letting a fatigued grin lift his lips, his eyelids heavy.
You pulled him down and into a slow kiss, your hands on the back of his neck, gently tugging at the curls at the base of his head. He brought his forehead to yours as you broke the kiss, and wound an arm around your waist to hold you tightly to him.
“You know…” he began, something playful in his eyes, mouth twitching with a smirk, “in the eyes of some, this would make us husband and wife”
You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I could live with people believing that”
Elrond hummed amusedly, gently tracing his nose along yours in a tender gesture. “Do not think of this as my proposal” he murmured, “one day, I shall ask you properly”
#elves have sensitive ears headcanon lets go#the possibility of elves having been pining for literal centuries is too good to pass up#I need to stop trying to write smut it takes me literally 10 years#lord of the rings: the rings of power#rings of power#the rings of power#rop#trop#trop season 2#elrond#elrond peredhel#elrond x reader#elrond x you#elrond peredhel x reader#elrond peredhel x you#elrond rop#elrond rings of power#elrond fanfic#elrond fic#dividers by saradika
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Hi sorry I’ve been dead my motivation to draw is far higher than my motivation to actually post said art
Anyways Cybertana is cool and needs more art so
#phighting fanart#roblox phighting#phighting!#katana#katana phighting#phighting katana#cybertana#art#my art#digital art#I still don’t know how to tag lord help me#it’s beeen so longg#since last I’ve- *gets shot*
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Holy shit I love your Dirk interpretations, it's so true and I could talk about this shit forever. I feel like another part of his character that people seem to forget (along with Roxy for some reason) is that he's from the future in solitude in an apocalyptic wasteland. I just see that part of his character always removed which is disappointing because I feel like that's a pretty big part, especially regarding his themes around technology, his brother's theme of Time, his own isolation, and how he plays in the vastness of the universe and spacetime.
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Art I drew related to the subject because I like to respond to asks with art.
But absolutely. I certainly understand where the lack of discussion over his isolation + upbringing comes from, considering a majority of the fanbase that I have seen builds their ideas based on their own version of postcanon. I’m not entirely sure how that would be fixed, but certainly even in the somewhat recent past I would see a lot more content regarding his upbringing both literally and symbolically. I don’t have much to add regarding the things you’ve mentioned, because they just are what they are. Dirk being confined to a singular room left to him by a father figure he never met, in a future where the only other person left on the planet is someone he cannot pursue a relationship of because of himself, with purely 3 robots to keep him companion, one being an exact replica of his own brain who is *also* trapped inside a pair of glasses, is about as literal as it gets to me.
The contrast to me involving the flooded, organic world in comparison to the little speckle of Dirk’s apartment packed with the dude and his technics is not only a representation of his isolation and entrapment within himself, but also of his lack of control. I think his obsession with & themes of control are a direct product in the case of Dirk specifically *of* this kind of upbringing. His themes of technology are also related to his themes around control. So much of his character is actually revolved around this to me like so much. Dirk is so deeply disconnected from humanity in every way and so much of his character + symbolism is based around that.
It doesn’t even have to be about the symbolism or anything though. It’s just pretty *interesting* in the literal sense that he lives in the middle of the ocean in the future. There’s not only a lot to theorise on to do with his young life there, but on how it might affect him in the way he acts for the rest of his life. The latter part is probably what I see mentioned the most by people talking about Dirk regarding this, I’m surprised I don’t see more discussion on the former too though. I really ought to actually talk more about Homestuck stuff on here. I will do it myself.
Roxy & Dirk’s relationship is largely ignored though because there is a narrative a certain demographic spreads that Dirk resented and blamed Roxy for her interest in him, and thus too many people believe that their relationship was or would continue to be an abusive one. Realistically, I believe it’s important to acknowledge that the way Roxy treated Dirk regarding his homosexuality wasn’t right while still acknowledging the obvious amount of respect and admiration Dirk had for Roxy. I mean we have a huge piece of dialogue from their post trickster mode conversations on the quest beds from Dirk purely stating how he feels about Roxy that people completely ignore somehow. I think this usually happens to characters that are women though. I know everyone says it, but it is true. Jane gets the exact same treatment of boiling her down to solely her negative aspects. The things I see completely mischaracterising both of them are horrific.
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I mean how much more explicit can it get that their relationship is obviously very important to Dirk? But I digress. I think the best or I should say “most interesting” interpretations of their relationship usually come from DirkRoxy shippers actually.
I would be interested to hear about Dirk’s relation to his brother’s theme of time though. I don’t have any thoughts on this and I don’t recall ever hearing anyone talk about it before. If you or anyone else would be willing to enlighten me I’d be thrilled.
#homestuck#homestuck fanart#hs fanart#dirk strider#blooby posting#ask#Sorry for taking so long to reply to you on this. I’ve been in more of a drawing than a speaking mood lately#which is very unusual for me. This is definitely not as much of a post as it could be but I’m still not back on my thought and speech game#I know the Roxy mention was in brackets but good lord the treatment Roxy gets from fanbase is insane. Couldn’t help myself#Sorry if anything is worded badly. I’m tired per usual#I think (with no malice in my heart) people just tend to leave out what they don’t like about characters though.#I was very briefly talking with Pomme johnegbertirl#and it got me thinking about how far a lot of people’s interpretations of characters stray from what would be realistic to canon#based on their own biases. Which I guess I probably do too to a certain degree.#I’m not one to judge people for their characterisations at all#I tend to be very forgiving when it comes to reads#but… I admit that is indeed a little disappointing to see how completely ignored some parts of his characters are.#Sorry for tangent that is tenuously related. It is relevant enough to shove haphazardly into tags#I’m glad you like my Dirk ramblings though. Thanks brother#We live on
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i would share my builds but. i’m gonna be honest i just go with vibes. weapon would look pretty with certain character? it’s theirs now. artifacts seem even slightly useful regardless of whether or not they’re the most efficient set? slap those bitches on. i play genshin like i play pokemon: with my favorites and while pressing as many buttons as possible until the enemy dies - teddy anon
OH YOU JUST LIKE ME FR FR
kazuha has the isshin sword even though i have an aquila favonia cause that goes to kaeya who i built because i like him, even when he did lower damage. i run kazuha as a dps even though he’s supposed to be support (i have a p well done diluc that does more normal attack damage but.. kazuha :] and kukis supposed to be like a hyperbloom driver i think but i have her as healer. my baizhu is currently using her set cause i like the burn reaction (w benny, who i still haven’t built properly (just a ton of er for burst stuff) and only use for pyro applications lmao) even though he’s supposed to be like. a sub dps. he and kuki probably work well together but i can’t hear that over the sound of my burst support childe who ran freeze with kaeya for an embarrassing amount of my early abyss runs. i still haven’t attempted floor twelve and unless i get my shit together i don’t think i will. strategy i hardly know her, i just go “unga bunga men pretty” and that got me to ar 57. i have yet to level my mona despite her being a great support (she does have a r5 dragons tales for when i want childe to look pretty against the pyro flower but that’s it) and my xingqiu still doesn’t have good artifacts. my team ‘comps’ are “dps dps.2 sub dps/applicator healer” and i have not strayed from this in my entire time playing. chongyun is objectively bad for my current playstyle but that has not stopped me from trying. i will get a freeze team with him xingqiu and maybe kaeya if it kills me
#m1d : [chats]#teddy anon#woo lotta tags watch out#this got long but i. feel a lot about this game#i have a lot of ’it works’ builds but only like one solid one which is awkward but not the worst thing#‘jack of all trades master of none; still better than a master of one’ right#(i didn’t use my fully built diluc for the longest time except when grinding cryo flower (chongyun) cause i don’t like overloaded)#(i have a kazuha.)#(and regularly cringe when he isn’t on my team)#ngl it’s embarrassing how dependent i am on kaz. he’s not there i don’t know how to get the enemies together. what do.#before him it was heizou and his burst and before that it was aether and his skill/burst#me when anemo amirite (has a lv 20 jean and sayu i haven’t touched in ages)#that’s a lie sayu helps w crystalflies and unusual hillichurls#and diluc does go on both of those trips too#unrelated but there’s a bird like three feet away from me#just. walkin about. you go little guy i hope you get all the worms (it’s well into the afternoon)#unrelated x2 but i have an au for a piece of media i like and it’s so annoying that only i and like one other person know about it. cringe.#please i want to consume fan content of my au but i’m the oNLY FAN IT SUCKS#birds back. hey guy. wanna hear about my [it technically spans three fandoms oh lord] au?#i do think this is a low point in my life#like i’ll go to be judged and the guy’ll go ‘you made these three medias touch’ ‘they hold hands actually’ ‘why’ ‘funny’#what do anime minecraft and marvel have in common? me baby#if there is no god to save you then you must make your own#fun fact i first wrote that like ten minutes ago and got a nosebleed right after#if there’s a god they certainly hate me. and that’s fair
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Down Home 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: The world's most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers
Note: Because of this.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖
It’s a slow day. Every day is slow out in Tumble Down. The township’s name tells the whole story. Everything there is in decline. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when the people weren’t tiny and forgotten in the hubbub of the bigger world. Since the mines closed and the canning factory was outsourced, it feels even smaller.
Smaller isn’t so bad. It’s simpler. You all know each other’s names and faces. You say hi and how are you and do what needs to be done. Simple is, simple as.
You here there isn’t much to do in most small towns. Not for fun or for work. You’re one of the lucky ones. You got a job down at the diner in your sophomore year. It helped pay for your daddy’s new engine and since then, it keeps you all afloat in the rising waters of disparity as they close in on Tumble Down.
You hum to the old radio that sits on the shelf you make sure to dust. The speakers crackle from time to time and the signal gets wonky in storm season, but the music’s never bad. It’s the classic stuff that always played in your mother’s kitchen.
You wipe down another table. Not because it needs it, just because it’s something to do. The day has been long and listless. Even the breakfast rush was lower than usual.
Darnell, the cook, whistles along from the back. Everyone knows he isn’t as mean as he looks. He just likes his space.
As you go back to the counter and lean on it, staring at the ticking clock, a roar cuts through the distance. You blink and look up, narrowing your eyes at the dusty country road outside. Wind rustles through the tall wheat in the field opposite and the noise rumbles closer and closer.
A man pulls in a motorbike. He’s going so fast that he has to circle the gravel lot before he can slow down. It’s not Lenny and his prized Harley but another man on a more modern-looking mount. Not far behind, another motorcycle zips through and the riders straddle their bikes as the survey the restaurant.
You narrow your eyes. You probably need glasses but you make do. The last time you got your eyes checked, you didn’t have enough for the frames.
The one man wears blue and red, an odd helmet on his head. Not a helmet at all but a sort of mask. The other man has dark hair to his chin and a beard to match. He’s all in black but his left arm shines with gold ripples. Not a sleeve, an arm, made of metal.
“Oh my lord,” you murmur in shock, “Darnell!” You holler over your shoulder, “you’re not gonna believe this.” You turn to the window as he pokes his head around, “not sure I do myself. Tell me my eyes aren’t lyin’.”
He looks above your head, an easy task for the mammoth cook. He hums and swirls around his spatula. “Thems those boys on the news. The one that was in the old war. Grandad’s battle.”
“I’m not going crazy with boredom?” You bubble.
He snorts. It’s as close to a laugh as you get from him. You spin back and hurry around the counter to grab a pair of menus. Still, you don’t want to seem too eager. You put down the menus and fiddle with a napkin holder instead.
The bell over the door jingles and swipe up the menus and turn. You really can’t believe it’s them. Yet, as Captain America removes his cowl, you’re certain. They look just like they do on the TV. Even with your sight, you can tell.
“Hello, fellas, how are you doin’ today?”
The dark-haired one, the Winter Soldier, glances at the other, his cheek dimpling, “well... we’re... uh...”
“We’re doing great,” Steve Rogers answers brightly. “Starving. You guys serve bacon? My buddy’s dying for some.”
“Um, yes, sirs, yes. Can I sit ya down?” You ask, hugging the menus closer.
“Please,” the Captain accepts as the other man stays silent and pensive, his eyes wandering down to the coffee stain on your apron.
“Just here,” you sweep away and wave them on with you. You stop beside the nicest booth and lay down a menu on each side, “have a seat.”
They do just as you bid. The blond puts his cowl on the table and unhooks the shield from his back to lay on the far end of the seat. He smooths back the sweaty strands of hair as his companion stretches his metal fingers. You sway nervously by the table, twitching as you remind yourself how to do your job.
“Well, can I get ya started with coffee? You look beat from the road.” You beam with the smile Mr. Welk says could outshine the sun.
“Not just the road,” the dark-haired one mutters as he rolls his shoulder. The one that connects to his real arm. “I’ll take one, please.”
“Can I get an orange juice, please,” the Captain asks.
“Course ya can. I’ll be right back. You have a look at the specials and give it a think,” you bounce and spin around.
You go to pour the orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Darnell lingers by the window. He only ever really appears to put a plate up but he watches the new arrivals.
You bring their drinks and step back, clasping your hands behind you.
“Did ya need cream or sugar for your coffee, sir?” You ask.
“Black’s fine,” he assures.
“No need for the sirs. Steve, Bucky,” Captain America insists, “we’re off duty.”
“Right, sorry about that, ssss...Steve,” you correct yourself. “You need some more time?”
“Think I’m decided,” Bucky intones, “what about you?”
“Set,” Steve confirms, “I’ll have the sunny side up with toast and sausage. Can I get some fruit on the side as well, please?”
He hands over the menu and you take it as you hold your smile. Your cheeks ache. Not because you have to force it but because you can’t stop. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Tumble Down ever. If Darnell wasn’t there, no one would believe you.
“Overeasy, bacon, extra bacon too, and some french toast, and uh... home fries.” Bucky offers up the second menu, “please and thank you.”
“Alrighty,” you preen, “I’ll put your order in.”
“Got it,” Darnell growls over the empty diner.
“He’s got good hearing,” you giggle nervously as you look between the men. “Ummmm, sorry, I’ll leave ya be.”
“You’re not bothering,” Steve assures. “I can see you’re dying to ask.”
He gives a gentle smile.
“Nah, oh, gosh. I’m sure ya get it all the time. I don’t wanna be one of those,” you put your hands up. “Really, you all look like you could use the peace and quiet.”
“Well, actually, I’ve been stuck with this meathead for days,” Bucky scoffs, “so please, I’d love to hear someone else’s voice.”
You laugh again. They’re funnier than you expect. They always look so serious on the TV.
“What... what are y’all doing here in Tumble Down? It’s a bit far from... anywhere.” You ask sheepishly.
“Tumble Down? Is that what it’s called?” Steve scratches his neck above his stained collar. “Well, we couldn’t get a signal so we’ve just been riding through. Saw the sign down the way and figured we’d get a bite.”
“He’s lying. He was falling asleep on his bike,” Bucky teases.
“Sure,” Steve shakes his head. “Only ‘cause I’m tired of you.”
You giggle again, “I thought y’all were friends.”
“Friends, partners, cursed with each other, have your pick,” Bucky snorts.
“He’s playing,” Steve says. “Look, we’re boring. Despite what you think. We’re a couple of old men bickering with each other. What about you? What about Tumble Down?”
“Ah, nothing really, sir. Steve,” you squeeze the menus tight at the edges. “Nothing going on since the coal law and that. Everyone’s all but run out. All but us.”
“Just you? Your family?” Steve wonders.
“Jesus, Steve, nosy much?” Bucky says over the brim of his mug.
“Sorry. He’s right. Like I said. Crotchety old man. I talk to the pigeons.”
You laugh again, “oh my, you are a hoot!” You slap your thigh emphatically, “I’m still my ma and pa. It’s just the three of us. They need help with the animals and that.”
“Animals?” Steve wonders, his posture shifting towards you.
“Chickens, cows. They got a farm. Was my grandpa’s. And his ma kept it going after he didn’t come home from... well, you’d know more about that time than me, I think.” You give a forlorn look to the floor.
“Oh, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Great grandfather,” he corrects himself.
“Lotta good men gone,” Bucky mulls grimly.
“Yeah, my great granny said as much. I wouldn’t know though, but I heard the stories,” you dare to look at them again. “Sorry to bring up the bad memories.”
“Nah,” Bucky waves you off casually. “I got this nifty arm outta it.”
“And I got a shield so, you know, not all losses,” Steve chuckles.
“I s’pose,” you agree. “I’m gonna check on that food for ya. You good with your coffee?”
Bucky raises the mug, “delicious.”
You nod and turn with a swish of your skirt. You go up to the window and look over the ledge. “How’s it going, Darnell?”
“Going. I’m happy it ain’t Raylene here. She’s got a mouth on her, don’t she? Them sort don’t deserve that trouble,” he tisks.
“They’re nice. And Raylene is too. She’s just... Raylene,” you say, “can I help with anything?”
“I don’t wanna be rude but I’m tired of tellin’ ya to stay outta my kitchen. You know the grill likes to spit,” he shakes his head. “You go, I’ll let ya know when it’s ready.”
“Alright,” you back away and turn back.
Steve and Bucky lean over the table, their voices low as they chat. As you move around behind the counter, they both sit up and the former clears his throat. You smile as you take the cloth from your apron pocket and wipe the already clean counter.
As the radio buzzes, you hum without thinking. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s smoky voice mingles with the emotion plucked through electric strings. Your dad’s a big fan. He has old tapes with concerts on them and even went to one himself.
The bell rings and you nearly jump out of your shoes. You turn and scoop up the plates as you thank Darnell. He grumbles that he’s going out to have a smoke; his code for having a Tootsie Pop by the backdoor.
You bring the meals over to the table and set them down before the men. Their gazes make you sweat. It’s all a little more intense with no one else there.
“Thank you,” Steve says and Bucky echoes him.
“Not at all. Anything else? Water? Ketchup?”
“It all looks great as is,” Steve says, “you got a nice voice.”
“Oh, really? Ha, I was just humming out of tune. Sorry if I was too loud.”
“Not at all,” Bucky picks up his fork as he leans forward. He tilts his head. “You know this one?”
“Sure do. It’s Fleetwood Mac,” you answer. “One my all times.”
He grins and nods as he looks at Steve. Steve watches you with a smile of his own.
“Do you sing?” He asks.
“Me? Only in my shower or to the chickens. They usually hide in the henhouse then.” You tinkle with laughter.
“Ah,” Steve nods.
“But if... if ya really wanna suffer, I could try it,” you smile, “but uh, you know, Stevie Nicks, she’s one of a kind.”
“I’ve had worse,” Steve says.
You look between him and Bucky. You chew your lip and think. You follow the song as you try to recognise which verse it is. You squint and perk up as you catch your place.
“You just let me know when you’ve had enough,” you say before you start. Not only can you tell your pa that you met the super soldiers, you can tell him you sang for them. It’ll be a nice bit of excitement for the dinner table.
#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!steve rogers#dark!bucky barnes#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes x reader#marvel#mcu#captain america#down home#winter soldier#avengers
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Servicing Lord Sukuna
Day 31 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Jujutsu Kaisen | Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, Lord Sukuna, servant reader, Sukuna has two cocks, p in v sex, anal sex Prompts: Non-human characters/traits A/N: Part 2 to Massaging Lord Sukuna found here! ao3 link here.
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“I won’t be done with you until morning.”
You freeze, Lord Sukuna’s hand still gripped around your arm, the feeling of his breath still hot on your ear. His eyes bore into you, pinning you in place with their sheer intensity, and he grins dangerously. You swallow thickly. His expression is reminiscent of a predator who’s cornered its prey, and there’s no mistaking the ravenous hunger darkening his gaze. He is the hungry predator, and you are his helpless prey.
You’ve heard Lord Sukuna eats humans as all Curses did, but surely the King of Curses wouldn’t eat his own servants? Would he?
It isn’t fair. You’ve pleased your Lord. He’s praised your efforts, but he’s staring at you as if he wants to devour you whole, and while some of the servants under his rule have disappeared without a trace, it can’t possibly be because he’s eaten them… Can it?
“M–m–my lord?!” you sputter.
“Tell me, little one. You’ve never been with a man before, have you?”
What does having been with a man matter when it comes to how you’ll taste? Unless…
“No– No, my Lord.” You throw your shaking body to the ground because maybe… maybe if you remain compliant, he’ll spare your life.
Sukuna hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes, and before you can stop them, they’re spilling down your cheeks.
“Plea— Please don’t eat me, my Lord,” you plead. “I’ll do– do better– I’ll work twi– twice as hard– I’ll–”
You’re babbling, begging him to reconsider because you know you can be an asset to your Lord if he’ll just give you a second chance, if he’ll just allow you to prove your worth.
“Hm?” Sukuna frowns and then breaks into raucous laughter as if he’s amused by your frantic prostrating. “Oh, I plan to devour you, brat. But not in the way you think.”
You gape at your Lord. You don’t understand what he’s saying. Is there more than one way to devour a human being?
“Your clothes have gotten quite soiled, little one. So unfitting for your King,” he purrs, his voice low and silky.
Lord Sukuna traces the outline of where your yukata parts, his long, sharp nails lightly scratching the skin underneath – his nails are so deadly, it would be more appropriate to call them claws. You should feel frightened by how they’re one whim away from gouging your delicate human flesh, but instead you shiver, the sparks flying in their wake confounding, yet thrilling.
“Be a good girl and strip,” he commands.
Oh, he doesn’t mean devour as in food, but devour as in…
Your cheeks burn, the meaning of his words finally dawning on you. You’re relieved you won’t be losing your life, but also embarrassed because how naive and silly Lord Sukuna must think you are…
“Forgive me, my Lord.” You scramble to remove your clothing, peeling off your drenched yukata as well as your underclothes and kneel before him as bare as the day you were born.
“Good girl.” Lord Sukuna gestures for you to join him. “Come here.”
You crawl to where Lord Sukuna lounges upon his futon following his beckoning hand until you’re seated on his lap. Something firm is nestled beneath you, and you realize with a start that it’s Lord Sukuna’s erection, still solid despite bringing him to climax just moments ago.
“Do you still wish to please your Lord?” he coos into your ear.
“Yes, my Lord,” you whisper.
“Good.”
His arm snakes around your waist, pressing you close into his impressive chest, and before you can process what’s happening, his searing lips are brutally crushing yours with a demanding ferocity. You gasp in surprise, and as your lips part, his tongue darts in, entwining harshly with your tongue, almost as if he’s trying to swallow you whole.
There’s nothing gentle about his kiss. You always assumed your first kiss would be tender, yet passionate like in the stories, but his bruising lips feel even better than any kiss you’ve previously imagined.
He holds you so tightly you can barely breathe, what little air you can suck in being stolen by his greedy inhales, and you burn in his embrace. His body is scorching, and you find yourself lost in his blistering heat, ravaged by the flickering flames.
His hand squeezes your breast, his fingers pinching your pert nipple, and you jolt, sparks tingling from where he’s pinching and prodding your heaving chest. You barely notice his lips leaving yours and moving down your neck so consumed by the delicious ministrations of his hands, you’re shocked when he bites down without warning.
You yelp. It stings where his teeth have viciously sunk in, but you find yourself relishing the pain, growing even more feverish from the radiating pain. Lord Sukuna soothes the mark with his tongue only to bite down again, leaving yet another blemish on the canvas of your skin.
He repeats himself, biting and soothing, locking you in a cycle of pain and pleasure. While you’ve never been one to associate one with the other, the combination has you losing your mind, and you pathetically whimper, putty in his roaming hands.
Lord Sukuna chuckles, the throaty vibrations sultry and smooth rumbling through his broad chest and rippling through your flushed body. “You like being marked by your Lord?”
“Y–yes,” you whisper, clinging to his shoulders.
You’ve lost count of how many times your Lord has sunk his teeth into your flesh, the swirl of affliction and bliss melding together until you can’t decipher one from the other.
Something swells beneath you, the hard tip of which pokes between your cheeks, and an involuntary gasp leaves your lips because it can only be one thing. Lord Sukuna’s… member is already so big, it can’t possibly get any bigger! You can’t imagine how he’d fit as it is!
“M–my Lord?”
Lord Sukuna pauses from biting your shoulder, noting the questioning fear wavering in your eyes. He smirks diabolically, clearly entertained. “Did you not know I had a second cock?”
His second…? You gasp again, your mouth hanging open and your eyes wide. What does he mean two? You barely know what to do with the one!
Lord Sukuna shifts, hauling you off his lap until the tips of both his monstrous cocks are positioned by both of your entrances. “Such a good brat, so wet for your Lord.” He’s sneering at you, delighting in your innocent distress.
You look straight into his devilish eyes, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. He’s so massive you’re certain he’ll break you in two when he enters, but you know you have to try. You have to try for your Lord.
“I will do whatever it takes to please you, my Lord,” you say in a shaky whisper.
Lord Sukuna hums in satisfaction, and both his appendages are pushing into you before you can blink. You almost faint, tears welling in your eyes. A strangled cry rips from your throat.
While your cunt sucks him in, your ass struggles to reject him, the muscles clenching securely together around the head. Lord Sukuna hisses, but he savagely drives in, bullying his thick second cock through the puckered opening until both of his cocks are nestled deep in your abdomen.
You cry – fat, heavy tears rolling down your spluttering cheeks and splashing on your Lord’s torso. You feel as though you’re being ripped apart, stretched to your absolute limits. You’re fluttering around both of his shafts, and you hear your Lord groan, his grip on your hips digging in until his nails have drawn blood.
“Tight… so fucking tight…”
You barely register the ragged agony of his hoarse grunts. You struggle to adjust to the sensation of feeling stuffed, the feeling of your organs rearranging themselves to fit both his cocks. The pain subsides, and it’s replaced by a thrumming ecstasy humming through your veins. Lord Sukuna has yet to move, but you’re already moaning, lightly rocking your hips back and forth on his lap.
“Be still, brat,” Lord Sukuna snarls.
You can’t stop. You can feel his shafts pressing together between your thin walls, and the friction of them sliding together, sliding against you is unbearable. You need to feel more.
You rock harder. Electricity buzzes through your bothered body, and you’re swept up in the irresistible lust of exhilarating ecstasy. The other ladies have always made being with a man sound so sinfully pleasant, but this… You let out a long, drawn-out groan. This is just heavenly.
“Lord Sukuna…” you lewdly moan. “Please…”
You’re barely moving on his lap, and you’re aching for more…
Lord Sukuna growls as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, the heady pain intermingling with the juddering electric tingles careening through your center. He re-positions his hands so he’s grasping your ass, and then he thrusts sharply bouncing you up and down on his lap.
He slams into you fiercely, and you see stars, overwhelmed by the white-hot heat sizzling up and down your spine, desperately mewling your Lord’s name.
“Lord Sukuna… Ngh… my Lord,” you cry out.
His hips are bucking into you at an inhuman speed, and you’re keening, practically frothing at the mouth, drool leaking from the corners of your lips.
You’ve never felt rapture like this before in your life.
“Fuck,” Lord Sukuna rasps, each word tumbling out of his mouth laced with a bite. “Such a good… fucking… brat.”
All the sensations… the sound of Lord Sukuna’s guttural grunts, the feel of his blistering body, the woody scent of his musk, the heat of his cocks… builds into an all-consuming, overpowering pressure.
Lord Sukuna’s teeth sink into you again, and as if a pin has poked a bursting balloon, you explode. You’re blinded by a vicious white light, violent tremors shuddering through your taut body.
One of your hands curls in his hair, yanking the strands wound in between your fingers, and your back arches, your breasts pressing into his firm chest, your closed eyes rising to the ceiling.
“Sukuna… Sukuna… Sukuna,” you passionately scream your Lord’s name so overcome you forget to add his title to his name, a crime punishable by death, but neither you nor your Lord realize the indecency of how you’re calling out his name.
Your screams throw Lord Sukuna into a frenzy, rutting into you even faster than his frightening pace before.
“Goddamn… brat…”
You’re clamping down on him uncontrollably, and then you feel it… You feel his body tense under yours, and you feel spurt after spurt of his cum flooding into you, spraying your insides white and coating you with his seed. Relentless waves of his release fill every crevice and ridge, and with nowhere else to go, it spills out the sides, puddling beneath you in a torrential, sticky mess.
You slump forward, supporting yourself against his built shoulders, weakly shaking from the violence of your euphoric climax. You don’t have to see yourself to know your eyes are glazed over, your mind a muddled daze.
Lord Sukuna gently lifts you from his lap and lays your worn out form on his futon in a manner uncharacteristic of his usual gruff demeanor. Your cloudy eyes droop half-closed. Your limp limbs quiver. You almost don’t notice him covering you with a light blanket or calling for Uraume because you’re far from lucid, so drained and spent you're barely clinging to the last shred of consciousness.
You don’t hear Uraume enter. You don’t move when Uraume lifts you in their arms.
You’re quickly fading.
You close your eyes, surrendering to your exhaustion, but before the cloying tendrils of sleep can steal you away, Lord Sukuna’s command floats into your foggy mind. Your last thought before you drift away completely.
“Get her cleaned up and settled in the adjoining room. I think I’m going to enjoy this one.”
#missaengg writes#kinktober#kinktober 2024#visions of temptation 2024#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jjk sukuna#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#jujutsu sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk fanfic
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❖ all mother nature's fault // joshua hong
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joshua x gn!reader, 1.9k+ words
tags: non-idol au, fluff, established relationship, crack, me furthering my 'joshua hong has erratic hay fever' hc, kinda sick fic
warnings: mentions of medicine ??
notes: good lord,,, sick!shua is just so pathetic (fond)
“Joshua? Shua, are you there?”
You step into Joshua and Jeonghan’s shared apartment, humming a little to yourself as you take off your sunglasses, the spare keys that Joshua had given you dangling in your hands.
It’s a delightfully sunny day, and you’re dressed all nicely, fully sun-screened and ready to go out. Joshua had asked you yesterday if you wanted to go on a walk in the park today, and you’d never say no to spending a sunny, lovely day out with your boyfriend.
But at 11am, Joshua hadn’t appeared on your doorstep, so you’ve come looking for him in his own home.
“Joshua?” you call again, padding through the apartment to stop at his bedroom, knocking on his door. “Are you in here? Can I come in?”
“The door’s open,” a voice says, and you open the door to see Jeonghan sitting on the bed, holding a box of tissues next to a sprawled-out Joshua.
“Oh, Jeonghan?” you say in surprise. “Why are you here?”
Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “I live here, too,” he says, sounding put-out.
You laugh, closing the door behind you. “You don’t live here in Joshua’s room, though,” you say, but Jeonghan just waves a hand like that little fact is irrelevant.
“I can live anywhere I want. I pay half the rent for this place.” He looks down at Joshua, and grins. “Unfortunately, the other rent payer is a little… incapacitated right now.”
And he’s right. ‘Incapacitated’ is probably the right way to describe Joshua’s state, because he’s pathetically lying spread-eagled on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, head propped up with multiple pillows. He’s still in his pyjamas. In the few minutes that you’ve been in his room, you’ve seen him take at least three tissues from Jeonghan to blow his nose.
“I’m sick,” Joshua says, and he sounds all bunged up. “No, I’m not sick. I’m going to die. I’m dying.”
You can’t help but laugh a little at how dramatically miserable he’s being, sitting next to him on the bed. “Is it your hay fever?”
“Of course it’s my hay fever,” Joshua laments, and then sniffs loudly. He turns his head, looking at you through puffed-up eyes, before sniffing again. “I can feel all the pollen particles attacking my body right now.”
“That bad, huh?” you say, pushing his hair back from his forehead. Joshua stares hazily at you. “It shouldn’t be this terrible, though. It’s been raining for the past week.”
Joshua whines, flopping around on the bed like a child. “I don’t even know. But I keep—keep—ah—” He sneezes then, mid-sentence, covering his mouth with his hand, and then promptly reaches for a tissue to wipe his hand and his nose. “Keep sneezing.”
You hum, trying not to laugh aloud at his misfortune. You exchange amused grins with Jeonghan. Your boyfriend is the only person you know who gets hayfever, and what makes it worse is that it’s the most random hayfever you’ve ever seen.
He could take you for a date to a flower field in the middle of summer and not have his eyes water at all, but during one random week in the middle of autumn, he’ll be sneezing so hard that he could blow over a jenga tower.
That happened, once. It’s the only time you’ve ever seen Seungcheol genuinely cry with laughter.
“My poor darling Shua,” you coo, trying not to smile too hard at the memories whilst Joshua looks so pathetically sad next to you. His eyes are all puffed up, and he looks so miserable and it’s actually a little adorable.
“I know, your poor darling Shua,” Joshua says miserably, his words coming out all distorted due to his blocked nose.
“Poor Jeonghan, too,” Jeonghan cuts in. “He called me over just so I could hold the tissue box for him.” He lightly bonks Joshua on the head with the tissues. “Meanie.”
“I’m the one actually dying here,” Joshua says, and wow, he really does sound ill. “I feel terrible. I feel like one of those hanahaki victims in those fics you keep sending me.”
“You can’t compare yourself to my hanahaki recommendations if you laughed at the fics for an entire five minutes after I send them to you,” Jeonghan says, stabbing a finger in Joshua’s direction.
“Well, they’re always totally unrealistic! And why are you even reading fanfiction about that sort of stuff?”
“Hey, they’re good stories!” Jeonghan says, holding his hands up defensively. It makes him lift the tissue box into the air just as Joshua was about to take one, prompting your boyfriend to whine as he stretches fruitlessly. “And the genre only ever comes up in fanfiction. I love hanahaki stories.”
“He loves reading about other people’s pain,” Joshua says in your direction, and he forcefully yanks Jeonghan’s arm downwards so he can take a tissue. Holding it up to his nose, his voice is muffled as he says, “That’s why he’s here right now. To laugh at my pain.”
“You brought me here to laugh at your pain.” Jeonghan hits him over the head with the tissue box once again.
“I brought you here to comfort me,” Joshua cries as loudly as he can, which isn’t very loud, because his voice is all croaky. “You’ve just been laughing at me the whole time!”
“Should have known that I would do that. How many years have we known each other, Shua? Do you really still not know your best friend at all?”
“Apparently not,” Joshua grumbles, sniffing. “Next time you’re sick, I’m going to destroy all the tissues in your house.”
You’re practically crying with laughter, listening to the two bickering, and this is something that is always the funniest to watch. Jeonghan and Joshua bounce off each other so well, both having equal sass and equal wit to be able to do this, though one might not think so when meeting them for the first time.
Joshua’s just always too busy holding up his gentleman image to properly rip into Jeonghan.
“Gonna destroy all your tissues and then ban you from ever buying any more,” Joshua is still threatening, poking at Jeonghan with his snot-covered tissue. “You little monster. I hate you.”
“You’re the one cursing at me?” Jeonghan says, incredulous. “How am I the monster here? Y/N! Do you think I’m the monster here?”
You’re giggling into your hand, trying not to be too loud, and when Jeonghan directs the question at you, you startle and let out another surprised laugh. “Um… I don’t know.”
“You have to side with me,” Joshua insists croakily at you, snatching the tissue box from Jeonghan so he can get his own tissues. “Y/N, please? I’m literally your boyfriend.”
He smiles weakly at you, then, in an attempt to gain your favour, and even though his eyes are all red and his nose is still leaking you can’t help but think that he looks utterly, utterly adorable.
That’s not gonna stop you from messing with him, though.
You shake your head, smiling. “Yeah, but you ditched me on what was supposed to be our date today, so I don’t know if I should side with you.”
Joshua’s eyes widen as best as they can, betrayed, and Jeonghan cackles.
“You’re so mean,” Joshua mumbles, dabbing at his nose, and then kicks Jeonghan when the man won’t shut up. “Hey, stop laughing! It’s not that funny.” He looks at you again, and if possible, he looks even more miserable. “I can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”
That makes you laugh, and you reach over to pet his hair consolingly. “I’ll tell you what. You let me take care of you today, and I’ll agree with you that Jeonghan’s the one in the wrong here.”
Joshua blinks, like he’s processing your words, before nodding. “Deal.” He looks over at Jeonghan, and kicks him again. “You heard Y/N. Get out.”
“Excuse me?” Jeonghan gasps in mock offence as Joshua continues prodding him with his toes. “How dare you!”
“I’m not your boyfriend, so you don’t have to take care of me anymore,” Joshua said, and then he grinned up at you, all watery-eyed but still devastatingly adoring. “Y/N’s here now.” You smile down at him, and he seems to positively light up under your gaze.
And then he sneezes.
“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” Jeonghan says, as Joshua starts going through some sort of sneezing fit. “Goodness me, you’re even pulling out the sneezing attack in an attempt to get rid of me.”
You laugh, shuffling closer to your boyfriend and taking the tissue box from Jeonghan, handing Joshua tissue after tissue and helping him prop himself up so he doesn’t choke on his own gasps for air. “Sorry, Jeonghan, we just really want you gone.”
“I’ll remember this,” Jeonghan says, pretending to be all upset even as he practically lunges for the door. “I’ll remember this act of treachery!”
And then, with a neat click of the door, he’s gone.
The room becomes quieter, then, and Joshua’s sneezes die down into little sniffles. You place more pillows behind him, helping him sit up, patting his hair affectionately as he attempts to take in a deep breath. You weren’t joking when you said that you’d take care of him, and he seems to notice it, eyeing you over the tissues that he’s blowing his nose with.
“I’ve already taken antihistamines,” he says, as if preempting your question. “This is me all already drugged up.”
You chuckle, pinching his cheek. Taking the dirty tissues from him, you deposit them into the bin beside his bed. “Wow. Your hay fever is really bad today,” you say, and he snuggles into your side with a long-suffering sigh.
“Yeah. It really is.”
There’s silence for a moment, as Joshua miserably tries to breathe and you run your fingers through his hair.
And then Joshua sits up a little, looking at you.
“Sorry for not being able to take you out on that walk today,” he apologises, eyes big and wet and sincere. You just smile pinching his reddened cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“I’m not actually mad. You know that, right?”
Joshua shrugs. “Still. I feel like I should say sorry.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault,” you say easily. “It’s the weather’s fault. It’s ‘cause of all that pollen that you’re in this state right now.”
“Hm. You’re right.” A grave look comes over him as he nods, eyes darting up to you. “Will you fight the weather for my honour, Y/N?”
That makes you laugh, surprised. “Your honour?”
“My honour is totally destroyed right now,” he says, dead serious. “Baby, I’ve been defeated by tiny little flower particles! I definitely think that you should fight for my honour.”
He’s being so serious about this that you can't help but laugh, leaning down to kiss his cheek even though he protests that he’s all sticky and disgusting right now. But it’s Joshua, so you peck him on the cheek anyway, and then kiss his hair.
“Sure,” you say, and when he looks at you again, your eyes sparkle brighter than a thousand suns. “I’ll fight Mother Nature for your honour, Shua.”
He beams. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
A beat.
“Quick question… how do you feel about going on walks in the rain from now on?”
fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit
#fairyhaos.works#k-labels#svt#seventeen#joshua#seventeen fic#joshua fic#svt fic#svt joshua#svt x reader#joshua x reader#joshua hong#hong jisoo#joshua x you#seventeen x you#joshua x y/n#seventeen x y/n#seventeen x reader#seventeen joshua#seventeen jisoo#svt jisoo#seventeen joshua hong#seventeen hong jisoo#svt joshua hong#svt hong jisoo#svt fluff#seventeen fluff#joshua fluff#joshua imagines#seventeen imagines
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Not So Secret Santa
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javier peña x fem!reader
this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!
summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.
warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.
tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.
word count : 4.4k
✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)
no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.
lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics
“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.
“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.
“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.
“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.
“My entire Christmas bonus.”
“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”
“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.
“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.
“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.
“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.
“Please, Steve.”
“No.”
You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.
When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.
“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.
Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.
Javier P.
Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.
And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.
Every single woman, except you.
You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.
He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.
“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.
“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.
“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.
“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.
“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.
You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.
Red chipped paint.
You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.
It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.
Probably.
It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?
With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.
Stupid fucking Peña.
Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.
“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.
Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.
You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.
Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.
Jesus.
You know way too much about him.
You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.
“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.
Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.
There’s no time to be thinking like that.
You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.
Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.
The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.
“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.
“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.
He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.
More people show up than you could have expected.
You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.
You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.
Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.
You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.
String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.
“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.
He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.
Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.
One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.
You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.
“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.
“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.
“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.
Javier traded for your name?
As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.
“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”
Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.
Huh.
That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.
Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.
Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.
Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.
You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.
Javier’s office.
You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.
Today is just not your day.
Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.
Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.
“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.
“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.
What a foolish question.
How could he possibly not know?
“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.
“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.
“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.
“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.
“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”
“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?
This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.
“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.
“So this is about the secret Santa.”
Of course he wouldn’t get it.
“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.
You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.
“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.
“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.
“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.
You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.
“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.
“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”
If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.
You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.
Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.
When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.
“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.
“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.
You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.
You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.
Jesus you’re soaked.
You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.
He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.
You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.
Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.
Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.
You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.
You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.
You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.
“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.
He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.
Did that really just happen?
He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.
“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.
“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.
“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.
“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.
“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.
“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.
It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.
“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.
He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.
Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.
[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]
Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.
from : your secret fucking santa
a/n : happy holidays everyone!!
#pedrostoriesgift23#lincolndjarin#taro-666 <3#javier pena smut#javier peña#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier pena x reader#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal
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How could you love somebody like me?
Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, angst, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.
Edited - because I forgot to change the most important detail, of course. I’m not myself if I’m not doing a mess. Yay. It’s okay now.
“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”
“No,” he whispers.
“So what?”
Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.
You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.
His face went pale when he saw you like that.
Eyes wide open.
Mouth agape.
He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.
“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.
Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides.
He seems anchored to the ground.
His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.
A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable.
“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.
You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff.
“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.
You have been in this room for two days.
Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out.
Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room.
Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone.
You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning.
“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl.
Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.
“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.
"What?"
“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.
His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.
“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest.
"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.
“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”
He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you.
"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance.
“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well, news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”
“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you.
Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.
You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”.
The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration.
_____________
“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.”
A pause and a sigh.
”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”
You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening.
You smiled.
His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling.
Until you heard something else.
A booming laugh.
Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.
“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right.
Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady.
“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”
Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.
But then why did it hurt so much?
You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.
He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask.
But you know that crooked smile.
He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work."
He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background.
Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”
And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.
You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you.
You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.
You wanted some proof before you charged him.
If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool.
He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck.
He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.
He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.
And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties.
This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him.
His phone was on the bedside table.
It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.
You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times.
You tried twice without success.
The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it.
You were in.
Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen.
And there they were.
Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.
You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.
There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita.
Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry.
Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.
You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.
“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”
“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”
“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”
And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum.
Was he ever sincere with you?
________
When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.
He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”
“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.
He doesn’t reply.
Instead he comes closer and closer.
You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one.
“Please,” he whispers.
“No.”
“Don't do that.”
“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.
”I know...”
“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”
You pull back until you hit the wall behind you.
Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore.
When your lips collide you let it happen.
It’s like when you drink too much Tequila.
It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.
You love it, so you keep doing it.
Javier is the same.
He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?”
He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.
He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.
“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips.
“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”
And yet, you’re still here.
You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him.
You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.
It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.
He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.
His hands run over your hips and you groan.
His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin.
He makes you cry, but you don't say no.
His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.
You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure.
His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head.
Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts.
He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.
His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.
You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.
There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.
Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change.
You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart.
Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.
You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out.
His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back.
You want him inside you.
You need him inside you.
And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.
You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.
The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.
It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency.
You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want.
He is the knife and the wound at the same time.
When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”
Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.
You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices.
He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.
You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.
His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.
Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now.
Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart.
“Fuck me,” you groan.
He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.
Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.
You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?”
“Shut up,” you hiss.
He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.
You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.
You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.
Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.
At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.
It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you”
You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.
You come, weeping.
Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.
But there’s no hope anymore.
You know you can’t go on like that.
You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.
A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.
It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with.
You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.
He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.
You’re hopeless and breathless.
He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave.
You know you have to.
Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.
“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”
When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.
“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts.
Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times?
You don’t reply.
"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you type on your phone and send it to him, before coming out of the door without turning your back.
You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel.
There will be two broken hearts.
You know he loves you and you love him.
He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul.
He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.
You are tired of fighting for the both of you.
You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”
“I'm leaving.”
“Do you need someone to accompany you?”
“No, thank you.”
“Someone could follow you,” he counters.
“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”
You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist.
None of this happens.
The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.
Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed
Archive tag: @pedrostories
If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎
#javier peña x f!reader#javier peña smut#jolapenosdearuary#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña x female reader#javier peña#narcos au#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#ppcu#pedro pascal characters fanfiction
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A Lesson in Heartbreak
2 of 3: Words are Painful Weapons
Rating: T | Word Count: 3983 | Pairing: Azris/Reader
Summary: Eris and Azriel made promises they didn’t keep. When you confront them about it, Eris says some things he instantly regrets. Now him and Azriel have to fix what they broke.
Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist| Read on A03| Part 1| Read Below
Warnings: Angst, Eris has a sharp tongue, alcohol, drunk!Eris
A/N: HI so… yeah… I am alive. Sorry this took so long. A second shout out to @daycourtofficial for inspiration with Azriel and his comments when he comes back.
Tagging: @myromanempiree @pit-and-the-pen @lilah-asteria @thisblogisaboutabook @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @paleidiot @div94 (if you are tagged by accident or want to be tagged in the future, let me know)
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“There. A letter to Tarquin and a letter to her.” Eris sent them with a flick of his wrist.
Azriel calmed enough to sit while Eris penned the letters. They needed you to come home so they could talk with you in person. Deep down, Eris was thoroughly embarrassed over the whole situation. Not only at himself but for you leaving to another court. He wondered if this was how Tamlin felt all those years ago, when Feyre ran off to the Night Court. Eris suddenly had empathy for him in retrospect.
He slumped back in his chair and sighed. He needed a stiff drink. But he wanted to be sober if you came home. Azriel sat across from him, arms crossed against his chest and brows furrowed like he did when he was deep in thought. His eyes were still rimmed in red from earlier. The Shadows were nowhere in sight.
“What?” Eris looked at his mate.
Az cut his eyes to Eris, still frowning. “I want you to tell me exactly what you said to her.”
“I’m surprised your shadows didn’t already tell you.” Eris didn’t hold back his eye roll or his sigh. “I don’t fully remember.”
Everything was a blur from earlier. When he got like that, he never remembered what he said.
“Well think fucking harder.” Eris could see Azriel’s fingers dig into his sleeves.
“She came in screaming at me about missing dinner.” It reminded him too much of his mother. The way she would yell at his father when he was a youngling. Eris tried to focus, to put that aside. “I told her the high lord meeting was more important. We were hosting, and.”
After a moment Az said, “And what, Eris”
He cursed under his breath. “I said she would understand that if she had bothered to help. Since she isn’t helping, she doesn't get to complain that we are busy. She knew what she was getting into when we mated.”
Azriel recoiled where he sat. “How could you say that to her?”
“It’s the truth, Azriel.” Eris brushed back his hair with his hand. “This is what it’s like to be mated to a High Lord. We have responsibilities. Yes, I was wrong for implying she didn’t want to help because she asked and I told her she didn’t have to. I admit that.”
Shadows came out as Az replied. “And we made promises we didn’t keep.”
“I know I did. It eats me alive that I broke them but what else am I supposed to do? It’s our first time hosting, I’ve only been High Lord for a decade and a half. She’s worked for multiple courts. She knows these things have to be perfect or others will talk.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t take a break to have dinner with her.” Az countered.
Eris glared at him. “Do not act like you are any better. You weren’t there either.”
He winced. “You’re right. I wasn’t.” Then he glared back. “But maybe I would have been there if you let other people do their job instead of making it our problem.”
“Oh you’re going to blame me?” Eris was on his feet. “By the gods. I’m always your scapegoat because it’s easy to blame me than for you to look in a fucking mirror.”
“Eris.” A warning, as shadows built around him.
“Am I wrong?” Azriel didn’t answer. Eris and his sharp tongue kept going. “You blamed me for centuries when it came to Mor. To this court. To my father. Let’s just add this to it.” He paused. Before he could stop himself he added. “It wouldn’t even be a fucking issue if it was just us.”
Eris felt the shock through the bond from Az before he shut him out. Even the shadows recoiled from around Az.
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t have to repeat myself. We work well together,” he gestured between them, “because we know what to expect from each other. She wants so much more than either of us are capable of.”
Shadows shrunk back again. “That’s not true.”
“It is!” Then words spewed from his mouth like viper venom. “I wish Elain never told us. I wish I never let you get your fucking hopes up, looking for a third bond in every fucking fae you brought to our bed. But I love you, so I let you do it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Azriel was on his own feet, siphons on his hands flashing. “I always got your consent, you said it was fine. You brought your own-”
Eris’s mouth ran away from him again. He didn’t raise his voice; his tone did the work for him.
“Maybe I lied. I only took other lovers so you wouldn’t feel guilty. I was just trying to make you happy because I was never enough for you. Even the Mother herself knew. She knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent us her.”
Az looked like he’d been struck. Guilt and insecurity Eris had buried for decades laid out on full display. At that moment Eris hoped Azriel hurt just as much as he did. The silence between them was heavy and loud. It was finally Azriel who spoke, his own words sharp and stinging.
“I never asked to be mated to you. You say this is easier for me and you, but it’s only easy for you. What’s easy is loving her. It’s not my fault you’re too fucked up to know that too.”
Shadows grew thick around him and he winnowed out of the room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
You showered and changed into a soft seafoam colored nightgown, given to you by Samira. She was sitting by a small side table reading when you came back into the bedroom. She set her book down and got up from her seat.
“Did you tell him, Tarquin?” You asked.
In your haste to get away, you didn’t think about the implications of your actions. Namely as High Lord’s mate seeking refuge in another court. You liked Tarquin a lot. He was kind and you were so happy when Samira and him hit it off. But he was still a High Lord of another court. Samira didn’t look you in the eyes from where she had sat on the edge of the bed.
“I only told him what you told me.”
“That’s fine,” you said quickly. You got onto the bed and crawled up beside her. “I understand. If you hadn’t told him, I would have.”
“That said,” she put her hand over yours. “You’re here as my guest. Any correspondence will come directly to me unless there is a threat to the court.”
You winced and she gave you a sympathetic look. Your mates were both known for their tempers. Azriel was well known for his impulsive behavior. You prayed to the Mother that neither of them acted irrationally. A hard thing to hope knowing you sealed this room the moment you entered.
“Did you want some tea or do you want to rest for the night?”
“Tea. I need to talk if you’re willing to listen.”
“Always,” she smiled.
You grabbed a light robe and moved into the small sitting room. She waited as Samira had tea brought to the room. She fixed you a cup, and then she sat down and took her own in her hands.
“So what happened?”
You let out a heavy sigh, trying to figure out where to start.
You explained the best you could. How they both made a promise to go to dinner and neither showed. You explained how distant they’d been for months. You explained how Eris told you that dinner wasn’t as important as whatever he was working on with the upcoming summit.
“He said I knew what I was getting into when we mated. As if I’m not managing his court while his nose is stuck in itinerary lists.” You added bitterly.
She winced. “And Azriel? What did he say about all this?”
“He said he was sorry. He lost track of time. Conveniently he was silent when I asked why his shadows didn’t remind him.” You stared down at the tea in your hand. You could feel your eyes water again. “He hasn’t- he has always been more physically affectionate than Eris. Out in public, at least. But he hasn’t even-“
You stopped yourself, your face burning. Samira didn’t need to know how Az hadn’t even called you by a specific pet name in weeks. Eris even longer. And how was you supposed to explain they even stopped just casually touching you? It was childish, to be upset about something so silly. Yet thinking about it just made you cry again.
You wiped your eyes. “It just feels as if they don’t want me anymore.”
“They're your mates, of course they want you.”
“Mates doesn’t always mean love, Samira. They did just fine without me for what? Two decades? Maybe longer. Maybe they miss it just being the two of them.”
“Now you’re talking nonsense. Stop it,” she gave you a pointed look.
“What if it’s the truth?” You were so sick of crying. You sniffled and wiped your eyes. “They know each other so well. What do they need me for?”
They didn’t.
That was your whole issue. They didn’t need you. Eris and Az could practically communicate without words. They moved around each other seamlessly. Eris knew exactly how Az liked his tea. Az knew to move papers closer to the inside of the desk when Eris was on a rant, his hands moving about as he talked. Eris knew when to make the spare room without even asking Azriel if he needed it. You tried to watch, to listen. Five years and you still weren’t in tune with them.
Samira shuffled in her seat, drawing your attention back to her.
“Eris wrote a letter to Tarquin. I got it while you were bathing. It wasn’t much, just him requesting to know if you were here and if so, that you get this.” She held up an envelope with his seal on it. “I wrote back that I would handle communication and you’d be staying the night.”
She laid the letter on the table in front of you. Your chest ached, begging you to open it immediately. You shoved it down.
Samira added, “I informed him that if you want to stay longer, I can’t make you leave. Tarquin has already agreed to allow you to stay as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” you whispered and stared back down at your tea again.
“Sleep on it. You can have breakfast with us and decide what you want to do in the morning.”
You nodded. Sleep sounded nice now that the adrenaline of the evening had crashed. You drained the rest of your tea and bid Samira good night. You left the letter on the table. You’d read it in the morning.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eris poured himself the stiffest drink he’d had in decades. The shame and embarrassment of everything was still burning in his chest. He downed his drink in one swing and poured another. Both his mates were gone. He walked over to his desk where the correspondence with summer sat. Your friend had written back instead of Tarquin. He downed his second drink.
To make things less complicated, I will be handling correspondence until this is resolved. Unless there is a threat to the court, I will not involve the high lord. I promise I will give her your letter in the morning. She was distraught when she arrived and I’ve just gotten her calmed. She’s currently bathing and I will get her some tea to help her sleep.
There was a break in the letter and she added.
She has yet to tell me what happened fully, but as her friend I am warning you both that you two better make this right. I will try to convince her to return in the morning, but she is a grown female. If she requests to stay, Tarquin has already told me she may.
Eris tossed the letter back onto the desk. He doubted once you found out Az left too that you’d come home. It’s what he deserved.
He was a fool to think he could do this- have two mates. To think he could be any better than his father. Three years mated to you and he still couldn’t control himself. Couldn’t toe the line between work and leisure. Fifteen mated to Az and he still spewed venom in his direction the moment he was cornered. And Eris finally got a taste of his own medicine when Azriel spewed it right back.
With a heavy sigh, Eris pulled out more parchment and ink. There would not be a high lord summit- not with all of this happening. He’d draft the letters and send them in the morning. If he could sleep at all, with no one sharing his bed. He went and made a third drink. He opened his bonds and see if you or Az would respond.
Still shut out. The urge to down that third drink was strong. He needed to be sober in the morning even if he didn’t want to be.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Azriel flew until his emotions settled. Eris’s foul words rung in his ears still. ‘I wish Elain never told us’ he’d said. ‘Even the mother herself knew I wasn’t enough for you so she sent her.’
His eyes watered and it wasn’t from the wind in them. There was an ache in his chest- both bonds were shut out. He and Eris fought plenty, before and after they reconciled and the bond snapped. Somehow this was still the worst. He ignored his own words that spewed like venom in response to what Eris had said.
Azriel was angry and hurt. He left- if he stayed any longer the whole Forest House may have been burned to the ground. He circled the border between Autumn and Winter. He couldn't go back, not tonight. He landed in a clearing, stretching out his wings before tucking them back in. He didn’t want to go to Valeris. He had one other option. His shadows seemed to agree, as they circled him and he winnowed.
He landed outside the wards of Rosehall. The fae lights shown through the window.
She is awake. a shadow whispered.
He thought about turning back. He didn’t want to disturb his mother, to bother her with his problems. Yet his feet carried him forward, the wards rippling around him. He tucked his wings in tight and walked to the door. He didn‘t have to knock; the wards were designed to let only few in and to notify her when someone arrived. He could hear the rush of footsteps inside and braced himself as the door opened.
“Azriel?” His mother answered the door, a navy shawl you made for her wrapped tight around her shoulders, sides shaped to accommodate her wings. “What has happened?”
”I had a fight with my mates.” He said quickly. “They’re fine; I just- I couldn’t stay.”
His mother brushed back loose hair to tuck it behind her ear. He realized her hair was half braided. She nodded, and stepped aside to let him in.
“I’m sorry, I can go.”
”Nonsense, come in. I just made tea.”
His shadows swirled past him, one or two weaving around his mother. They always loved her; probably more than him if he was honest. He stepped through the frame and looked around. He had visited two weeks ago and already things had changed. His heart skipped, looking into the sitting room. Feyre had taken to decorating his mother’s house with portraits and paintings. The one above the fireplace was of him and his mother. It was a new one on the wall to the left that wasn’t there two weeks ago that made him stop in his tracks. It was of his mother, himself, you, and Eris. From your mating ceremony, based on the clothing and how close together you all were.
“The High Lady spoils me,” his mother said from his right. “Says my house is too empty. You should see the garden painting she had mounted in the hall a few days ago. Come.”
He felt her hand grab his own. He could only grip back loosely. He didn’t realize how cold his fingers had gotten from flying. If she noticed, she didn’t say. She led him to the kitchen where a kettle sat on the stove. He sat at the small table and watched almost numbly while she gathered cups and poured the tea.
“Zemër, tell me what happened.”
Az looked down at the cup as she sat it in front of him. He wrapped his hands around it, letting the warmth ease the stiffness in his hands. If he was home, Eris would do it for him. He pushed that thought away. He took a few sips, relishing in how the warmth flowed through his chest. His mother waited patiently across from him, braiding the rest of her hair for bed.
“I said some things I shouldn’t have.” His shadows nudged him on the shoulder. “I made a promise and didn’t keep it.” She hummed and tied off her hair. His voice cracked a little when he added. “I don’t know if I can fix it.”
There was a beat of silence and his mother took a sip of her tea. “Why do you think such a thing?”
“Because she left!” He snapped. His mother flinched and shadows hissed at him for raising his voice. “I’m sorry. She left and he- we’ve been so busy and she asked for one dinner and neither of us went. Then she left. And Eris said things. So I said things back.”
He hated that hot tears fell down his cheeks. And that his mother was looking at him with pity. She reached over and took his hand, holding it tightly in her own.
“Words are painful weapons and you are the best warrior in all prythian.” That made Azriel snort and she smiled softly. “This is a fight. Not a war. You haven’t lost yet. They are your mates. You love them. If you haven’t given up your love for them, what makes you think they have so easily given up their love for you?”
She had him there. He gave her hand a squeeze, a gesture of thanks. Then a shadow swirled up his arm quickly.
We must go. He furrowed his brows. He walks to our balcony. We must stop him. We must go. Go.
“Shit.” Azriel winced at himself. He hated cursing in front of his mother. “Mama, I have to go. Thank you. For the tea.”
She watched him stand, not letting go of his hand. “Be careful, my love.”
Despite the tugging of the shadows he gave his mother a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you in two weeks. I promise.”
She nodded and he winnowed away.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
At some point, Eris wasn’t sure when; he grabbed the whole bottle instead of pouring himself a glass. He couldn’t sleep. Not alone, with his thoughts and past memories hovering around the edges of the bed. They we’re waiting in the dark to grip him when he was most vulnerable. So instead he drank. Drank to numb the emptiness like he used to in the days before.
One minute he was in his chambers and the next he was stumbling up stairs. There were several balconies in the forest house but there was only one nearest to the roof. He built it for Azriel. It had no railings, just a place for him to take off when he went flying. Az swore he didn’t need it; but he still used it. In Eris’s mind, Az would use the balcony when he came back home.
Because he had to come home. You both had to come home. Eris didn’t think he could bear it if you didn’t. It took him a moment when he reached the door to focus enough to grab the handle. Gods, he hadn’t been this drunk since his youth. Pushing into the room, it was bare- save the single old couch, rug, and unlit fireplace. His gaze fixated on the double glass doors that led to the balcony. If he could just get out there, he could wait.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Eris nearly fell over, balance upended by Az’s voice behind him. He grabbed Eris by his shirt to pull him steady. Shadows that had been absent swirled in his vision, grazing his hair and neck as if checking him over. It took a moment for the world to stop spinning and his focus fixated on the male before him.
“You came back,” Eris whispered.
“Of course I did.” Azriel’s nose crinkled at Eris’ breath. “You're drunk.”
“Can’t sleep.” He felt his eyes water. He reached for Azriel’s shoulder but Az held him in place. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”
“Look at me,” Az’s hands were cold as they cradled Eris’ face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry too.”
“Your hands are cold.” He muttered, his own reaching up to cover them. He wasn’t sober enough to focus his magic like he wanted to.
“They are.” Az gave him a soft smile. “I’ll live.”
Eris frowned. “Why did you come back?”
To Azriel’s credit, he didn’t seem shocked at the question.
“I came back because I love you.” And Azriel meant it.
“But you said-“
“I said it’s not easy.” He paused for a moment. “It’s not easy but I choose you. I will always choose you. Because I love you.”
There was silence between them for a moment.
“She’s not coming back.”
Az grimaced. “Eris, it’s late. She’s safe in Summer and probably sleeping. Like we both should be.”
“But I need her here.” Eris could hardly bear it. He needed you back. He needed to apologize. “Can’t we go get her?”
“So you want to start a war with Summer?” Az’s face was serious but there was a tilt in his voice.
“You’re laughing at me.” Eris replied solemnly.
“You’re drunk. It’s hard not to.” He sighed, his wings slumping and shadows buzzing about them. “Let’s go to bed and sleep this off.”
Eris was silent but seemed to concede. Az guided him out the room and back to their chambers. He would have winnowed if Eris hadn’t been so inebriated. He really didn’t feel like cleaning up vomit.
“You’re too good to me,” Eris muttered as they made their way down the hall.
Az tightened his arm around him. “I could argue the same.”
More silence passed. “Do you think she’ll come back?”
Azriel didn’t reply. He could only hope. His shadows whispered as much as he helped Eris undress in their chamber and get him to bed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In Summer, you tossed and turned. The air was too warm even with the cool magical breeze that floated through the open windows. The bed was too small. Too empty. You finally cast a spell on your blanket and pillows, making them colder. How funny you’d gotten used to Autumn's colder climate.
The spell worked too well. You were suddenly too cold, too cold without Eris and Az’s body heat to keep you warm. Tears fell on your pillow. They were probably sleeping fine without you. Your mind went to the letter you left in the other room. You were too afraid to open it. They probably only wanted you home until after the High Lords’ meeting. Or maybe they never wanted you to come back. You pulled the blanket tight around yourself. Whatever the letter said could wait until morning.
You sighed and tried to go to sleep.
Part 3
#neapolitan bonds#eris vanserra#acotar#azriel#azriel/eris/reader#reader x Azris#part 2#a lesson in heartbreak
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watching them as they train. ⭒ mk1
—✦requsted by anon.∗ imagine watching liu kang, kenshi, bi han, kuai liang, and tomas working out. you can’t help but ogle them. their muscles straining visibly, they are panting, sweat is rolling off them, THEN feeling them up. how do the guys feel about this?
╰┈➤ tags: spicy, sfw, pet names, sweating, watching, flirting, tattoo, gn!reader, use of y/n, no specific use of gender, boyfriend dynamic, fluff, ‘s all I suppose. ✩ wc: 2.3k ✩ rose’s notes: offf, this one was so spicy to write and I like how I imagined this entirely while reading your request, lol, love ya & thanks for this hot request! hope you all will like, enjoy. [also, changed the aesthetic of requests post, hope this one is prettier. muah!]
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✩ liu kang.
being the god of fire, protector of the earthrealm, and having a decent power in his system, he needs to train his muscles, physical strength, and power as well as he does with his mindset. watching him sitting down on the carpet, eyes closed, hands connected while being inside his mind to power it up as if he’s not the most powerful soul in the entire timeline is the thing you do as a habit now, so, it’s not surprising when you find yourself sitting on one of the benches on the training area as he trains alone – no one else, just you and him.
it’s different than watching his peaceful closed eyes, a little smirk on his face from time to time as he knows you’re there to take a sight of his meditation – because he gladly allows you to. it’s different even within the air – it’s too hot to handle and the wind doesn’t help at all because how he has no particular sleeve on his upper part, wearing just pants as he trains with his sharp movements.
muscles getting tighter, sweat running from his neck to his exposed chest, professionalism is as clear as the sun’s rays and you can’t stop thinking about how easily he will use his skillful hands on your body – he’s making you weak by only training and you know that he acknowledges his effects on you, making his training session sharper and more powerful than it is needed as he turns his back, arms move fast, making his back’s muscles go visible to your eyes.
mouth getting wet on its own, your eyes travel from his sweaty hair to his sharp jaw, arms with visible veins, white tattoos covering his arms and a part of his chest beautifully, sweat flowing from there until they reach his abdomen, making you gulp in excitement.
is it wrong to fantasize about a god? you can’t answer, and you don’t care about it either – well, at least, your instincts don’t care because without calculating its outcomes, your legs move on their own as you get up, slowly approaching him. with each step you can hear his deep breaths, and can see his sweats shine under the light of the sun.
he stops at his movements when he feels you near, chest rising up and down still. standing in front of him with warm breaths hitting his hot chest, you can’t help but touch his arms’ tattoos full of sweat – slowly enough to get a warning from his parted lips. “y/n –“
“yes, my lord?”
you can see his eyes narrowing, mind studying the situation and knowing that you will not stop, not after both of your hands happen to be on his chest, rubbing his muscles from time to time and earning another warning from him as he grips your wrists – fingers still playing with his arm muscles, getting wet, “you should stop, I need to train for one more hour, pretty.”
“train with me,” you say, putting a kiss on his exposed chest before turning over, knowing the god of fire, the man of determination, can’t resist your open invitation, and agreeing.
“you will be the death of me, my love,” he says, picking you up in bridal style as he goes to his room – to train with you of course, much hotter this time.
✩ kenshi.
to get back his sword from johnny, and be worthy of his clan once again, kenshi tries his best – so hard to accomplish his aims – he needs to be strong, he knows it, and the knowledge pushes him to train over and over again until he can beat everyone who crosses his way and avoiding him to reach his destination.
and there’s one more reason behind it – having you as his audience. his beloved lover who likes to watch him get a good view of his exposed body, half-naked, showing his muscles off even though he will deny it. he can have his orange training clothes to wear but in that way, he won’t be able to see your parted lips that you bite and lick occasionally, eyes shining as they travel on his body shamelessly, hands move rapidly because of not knowing where to put them because your mind is not working entirely when he winks at you whenever he changes the way he trains – legs, arms, back muscles – doesn’t matter as long as you get heat rushing on your body which he knows so well.
“liked what you see, love?” he will ask, smiling down at you when he takes a break, chest rising up and down as he stands on his foot, hovering over you, teasing because it’s so fun to play with your cute mind.
“u-huh,” you say, looking at his chest and waist covered with sweat rather than his eyes directed at you, “like it so much –“ you add, and to his surprise, you put your hands on his waist, pulling him closer to you as you sit on the bench still, and eyes turning up to find him, “are you doing it for me to like it?” you tease back as your hands move from his waist to his abdomen, feeling his six packs tighten under your fingertips. “cute.”
“not as cute as you, prettiest.”
then, he will make sure you put your hands on his body whenever he takes breaks until he is done with training and takes you into his room, admiring your body the way you do to his. after all, he is such a pleaser that he needs to return the favor.
✩ bi han.
for being the grandmaster of the lin kuei clan, the man who seeks great power, bi han trains a lot – he needs to, he has to.
he never gets exhausted by training with his potent stamina and determination to become the best – the strongest to bring great accomplishments to his clan. also, he never gets tired of having you beside him as he trains after he tells you to watch him closely to see what a true and good training session will look like – well, half truth half lie because it’s not the only reason why he keeps taking you into the area, having you sit down on the carpet, on your knees and watch him – it’s all because of you though, you were the first one who requested to do it and from the way you look at him, his body and mostly muscles with parted pretty lips, he can’t bring himself to train alone when he can your pretty face lighten up with desire of him as he does it.
knowing he does it on purpose, you sit down on the carpet calmly – as much as you can anyway, watching him having only his pants on, ice appearing on his hands until it reaches his elbows, the temperature getting colder but you don’t – it only gets warmer for you when your eyes travel on his torso, chest, shoulders, arms – full of muscles and sweat, getting tighter from time to time with the impact of his hard training. oh, you think, he truly deserves the title of grandmaster.
thighs clenching together, hands getting between your legs, eyes sparkling, and lips getting licked, you know bi han laughs menacingly inside his mind whenever he takes a look at your messy situation – he definitely does it on purpose, doesn’t he?
your question is answered when he cleans his sweat with a towel before sitting in front of you on his knees, hands positioned on his lap, raising an eyebrow he asks, “did you learn anything from my training, y/n?”
nodding, you challenge him by saying, “yeah, I learned how your muscles move so beautifully, sir.”
he chuckles deeply, and letting you do what you wanted to do before, taking you by the wrist, he puts your hand down on his shoulders, “now learn how they feel under your touch, doll. it’s what your hands carve after all.”
instead of saying anything, you use your hand movements as an answer – massaging his rigid muscles on the shoulders, moving from his chest from there until they find his abdomen, full of thick packs, showing his masculinity off so perfectly that you put a kiss on his exposed body, earning a low growl from the man.
“if you keep doing that, I will use your body as my training tool, princess.”
he sounds deep and hot – you’re being a brat. “then, do it.” and he does it in a way you can never imagine before experiencing it.
✩ kuai liang.
he doesn’t mind having your company when he finds alone time to train his abilities to make them reach the highest point; on the contrary, he finds it amusing how you even bring snacks with you as if his training session is a scene coming out of your favorite show – you admit it though, he’s your favorite show to watch because how it cannot be when he has sightworthy attractive and cute features, especially in the training area in which he has nothing on the half of his body – yes, you see it every day and night yet it’s far more different when it comes to seeing him training with his tools to strength himself up.
watching him jumping, crouching, using his knives with long ropes you happen to have on your wrist a night ago, your hand stop in mid-air, not being able to eat a snack because of how your mouth keeps getting wet – the hotness coming from him and hitting you on the face heavily isn’t related to his ability, no, it’s only coming thanks to being so damn attractive right now; all sweaty, breathing heavily and rapidly, movements perfect, gaze he gives to you breathtaking.
“what is it princess?” he will ask, a knowing smile on his face, taking a bottle of water to drink as he sits down beside you, radiating two different kinds of warmness to your body, “I am the one who trains and you seem to be the one with no steady breath.”
his teasing stops when you can’t help yourself and touch the scorpion tattoo on his thick and big arm, moving from there to his shoulder slowly. chuckling, you say as your hands travel on his wet chest and abdomen playfully, “who has no steady breath now handsome?”
“oh?” he holds your wrist, pulling you closer, hot breath hitting your neck when he puts a kiss on there, “when I am finished with the train, you even won’t be able to have a brain to remember how to breathe, pretty.”
✩ tomas.
“what now?” he will ask firstly, trying to find a few excuses to tell after you sit on the ground, smiling widely and telling him you want to watch him as he trains – because, ugh, he knows he will get all shy and missing a few steps, or doing his sessions incorrectly with the effects of having your piercing eyes on him, studying him, literally seeing every move and it makes him a bit nervous because being the cute little boyfriend, tomas wants to be as perfect as he can be in front of you – no one else’s, except his brothers.
his desire to impress you in every way, the situation as possible gives him a bit of sadness when he shows some weakness as he does exercises, you behind him, sitting and watching – oh, he sucks, isn’t he – he will think until the moment he realizes that you don’t watch him train – well, you do, but not with the way he excepts.
your eyes scanning his arm muscles, back, thighs, and hands as if he’s a piece of art with thick and sharp features he has – he can see how you bite your lip from time to time, smiling face is long gone, replaced by the expression of passion and tomas can’t decide which one makes him happier; to realize his not-so-perfect training isn’t understood by you or to witness your greedy gazes as you keep your eyes on him, clearly liking what you see.
being addicted to pleasing you, tomas smiles at himself and without hesitation, he takes his tight sleeveless top off of his body, showing his body underneath it – getting proud when you begin to lick your lips, thighs getting clenched with pure instincts.
even at his shiest moment, he teases you by standing between your legs, holding you by the chin, and making you look into his shining eyes with joy, “you’re quite an admirer, my love, aren’t you?” he asks, leaving you dumb for a moment before you come into your senses, smiling as your palms position on his exposed chest, playing.
it’s his turn to be dumb at the sudden action, “after what I am watching is the most beautiful sight in all realms, of course.” your hands are shameless as they flow on his top, admiring it as a true admirer.
“then let me put on a show only for you, my goddess.”
#✭― requested by anon!#mk1#mk1 x reader#liu kang#liu kang x reader#kenshi takahashi#kenshi x reader#bi han#sub zero#bi han x reader#kuai liang#kuai liang x reader#scorpion#tomas vrbada#tomas x reader#smoke#smoke x reader#scorpion x reader#mk1 fluff#mk1 spicy#✿ so much thanks and kisses to anon who requested this! was so fun to write & hope you all find it fun to read too especially you anon#*muah*
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Sea Sickness
Sea Sickness
Luke Hughes x fem!reader (established relationship, but still new)
Idea: Reader gets nauseous from being on the boat at the Hughes’s Lake House and snuggles up to Luke.
Requested: Nope.
Author’s Note: I know I’m bouncing around who I’m writing for, but I’m on a NHL spree right now. I also get nauseated if I'm on a boat or in the ocean for too long. Fun Fact: I wrote the beginning part of this on a note card while working by myself in the OR today. We had a really long case where I just had to check up on people during the middle of it (hence why I wrote this on a card because I don’t like going on my phone when I’m in the OR. It's unprofessional). I don’t know any of these people personally. The closest I’ve gotten to the team (that wasn’t just playing in the band at the games or when they were walking past us down the 2023 red carpet in tampa) was a tuba was talking to some of them in his plane row on the ride back from that trip (he ended up being the tuba you see in the senior picture from 2024) and one of the coaches had to share our bus on the way back from the 2023 frozen four game with his wife and two young daughters (I kept trying to get the younger one to smile at me unsuccessfully). Someone from my hotel room also shared the elevator ride up with the entire Fantilli family the night they lost that game in 2023 (I think Adam also won the Hobey Baker award that same night). I’ve also been playing my lego lord of the rings game. Anyway, enjoy this little blurb.
Tagging some of my favorite Hughes/NHL writers, love y’all.
@wineauntie @thedevilrisen @winterbarnesblog @sc0tters
I forgot to mention that this is kinda based on the cute stuff @bedsyandco writes
I'm now sad when I'm uploading this because a friend from college drumline has an incurable brain cancer. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers (he's only 19 or 20).
Requests are still open. Feedback is always appreciated. Also, tell me if you want to be part of a Tag List and I’ll tag you when I upload something new. If you want to only be tagged when I upload something for a certain character or shows, let me know as well.
Warning: None, just general fluff. Feeling sick on a boat.
Word Count: 488
Being on a boat wasn’t your most favorite thing in the world, mainly because the last time you were on a boat, it got stuck in the middle of the laek and had to be towed back to shore (true story), but when your boyfriend Luke invited you to spend the weekend at the lakehouse with ihs brothers and friends, you weren't going to say no. The weekend had been filled with lots of eating, playing outside, and the boys being competitive at every game they pick up (even the old board game you brought to teach them how to play). Just trying to keep up with them all was exhausting, so that’s how you ended up on the back of the boat enjoying the warm air instead of diving into the water again. The boys had been going back and forth between wakeboarding and chatting on the boat deck. With them supplying the lake with plenty of waves, the constand up and down was starting to make your stomach sick. You scooched over and made yourself comfortable laying your head on Luke’s shoulder. He then opened his arms and wrapped you in his warm embrace so you could crawl on his lap and snuggle closer to his chest.
“You feeling ok?”
“Yeah, just want to stop the constant movement.” It was getting to a point were you just wanted to stop the constant movement. It being really hot out didn’t help either.
“We’ll head to shore soon. Then we can cool off inside.”
Being wrapped up in Luke’s embrace with his fingers gently carding through your hair or down your shoulder leaving goosebumps in their wake and shading you with his fit body definitely helped keep your mind off of your stomach and the boat’s ever shifting movements. Luke wasn’t much of a pda person, but you always encouraged him to show little bits of it at least in front of his family or close friends.
Little did you know, that’s exactly who was eyeing the interaction. Jack, Quinn, Trevor, Cole, and Dylan all had stopped what they were talking about in favor of watching the interaction between you two. Eventhough they were not all related, they felt like proud older brothers seeing Luke be so considerate and affectionate in front of them. Of couse they’re all going to tease him relentlessly later about this, but they were gentlemen in regards to respecting the timing and the moment.
“Just lay down and close your eyes. We’ll be on shore soon.” You snuggled deeper into Luke’s neck keeping your eyes closed and focused on his soft skin, his natural scent, and the way his warm body curled around yours. He even tugged on your legs to pull you fully into his lap as his large frame wrapped around your body fully encasing you in his warmth and comfort.
Nothing better than enjoying the summer with those you love.
#nhl imagine#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes#hughes brothers#luke hughes fluff#luke hughes imagine#jack hughes x reader#quinn hughes x reader#nhl#nhl players#hockey#hockey imagine#new jersey devils#nj devils#umich hockey#umich imagine#umich x reader
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Dragonride (Daemon Targaryen x Servant!Reader)
synopsis: It was his wedding night, yet instead of consumating the marriage with his new bride, Daemon chooses to celebrate with someone else.
warnings: power imbalance, smut, p in v, fucking in the bathtub, semi public sex, afab reader
word count: 0.8
taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1
(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)
Dividers by @saradika
The whole day the castle had been running around. Preparing for the royal wedding that is supposed to bring benefit and safety to runestone. The rogue prince as a lord husband was the perfect promise of that. If only everything would have gone as planned.
All throughout the ceremony servants passed whispers to the farthest back of the castle about the cold distance between the royalty to be wed. How far they were sitting from each other, as if the other were made of poison, as well as the enemies prince Daemon apparently intended to make early on as it seemed.
It is of little surprise when you get tasked with preparing an additional room for the Targaryen to spend the night in.
And just in time. Right as you finish preparing a hot bath for the prince, his heavy boots carry his tall frame into the room.
“Your highness.” You greet him with a bowed head.
Upon the sign of a finger, you rush to help undress him. Steady fingers removing layer after layer of clothes until there is nothing hiding the pale skin from the dim light of the candles. Daemon is silent until the task is done. Yet he gives you a knowing smirk as your eyes accidentally roam over the length between his legs.
“You can go now.” He commands afterwards, already half turned towards the bathtub.
You bow again, however as your hand touches the cold, smooth doorknob, his voice sounds through the room once more.
“Wait a moment.” His voice is disinterested as always and he doesn't look at you as you turn to him anew.
“Yes, your highness? Do you require something else?” You inquire quietly.
“Indeed, I do.” Daemon pauses for you to inquire further or understand what he means without further explanation.
When you don’t, he speaks up again. One single word. “You.”
Your breath stocks for a moment in your lungs, unable to think clearly as usual at the request. Not a request, more a command. One that leaves no room for arguments.
Who are you to refuse a Targaryen prince anyway. “As you wish, your highness.”
With slightly trembling hands, but deliberate moves, you shed the layers of clothing that hide your body from the blond's sight.
“Have you ever ridden a dragon?” Daemon asks with a mischievous half grin as you approach him. Every step carefully thought through as if he would bite off your head any second.
“I haven't, your highness.” You negate the answer to his question.
“Well, I think it is high time for your first flight.” One large, rough hand comes up to guide you into the borderline scalding water and on top of his lap. “And for the love of the gods, stop ending all of your sentences with your highness.”
“Yes, y-... Yes, of course.” You quickly catch the trip up and correct the mistake.
Still, it earns you a sternly raised brow, which in all honesty only furthered his attractiveness. Lost in thought, it is one of Daemon's hands wandering up your breasts and lays itself snug around your neck, that pulls you back to reality.
“Good. Now show me how good of a dragon rider you can be.” with one swift move Daemon impales you on his cock.
Immediately he sets for a punishing pace. No doubt needing to get rid of some energies that must have collected inside of and burned through him the entire day. The strength with which the prince’s hips meet yours send ripples of pleasure mixed with pain up your spine and all throughout your body. The scalding hot water that surrounds the two of you makes you sensitive to every little change in his touch. Especially now that Daemon grips your waist to hold you still as he fucks up into you so tight, it might as well have left bruises already. The sound of your nails scraping against the bathtub fills the room, only overshadowed by the drawn-out grunts and heavy, shuddered breaths that mingled between you, chasing away the steam of the water below.
It isn´t long until you can´t hold back your own strained moans. Your strength waning with every new assault to your core. And even shorter until you are only held up by Daemon´s hands, your body leaning forward limply. Chest to chest and face nestled in the crook of his neck. On a particularly harsh thrust your teeth graze his ear, being shaken by the body clashing into yours.
Underneath you Daemon growls, the sound is animalistic and sends a whole new wave of heat through your nervous system. The sweat that covers both of your bodies, begins to run down in droplets, mixing with the water, driven by the exertion put on you.
The Targaryen’s thrusts grow erratic from the all but possessive display, bringing the tidal wave of your pleasure down to crash over you.
He released a final few thrusts into your convulsing cunt before pulling out of you completely, leaving behind a trail of sticky seed as evidence of his conquest. The mixed fluids spilling out of you and into the water below.
#prince daemon#prince daemon targaryen#daemon#daemon targaryen#the rogue prince#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon x you#daemon targaryen x you#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd fic#house of the dragon fic#hotd x reader#hotd x you#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon x you#daemon smut
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100th post special!!!
this is art for my “Prince and the Knight” AU ive been working on for some time now.. here’s a meal whace nation!!
lore under cut!
KEHRHHEEB J LOVE THEM SO MUCH DUDE
vvvv
(im not that good with writing nor am i well versed in medieval honorifics and terminology or anything like that so there may be anachronisms)
(this is a separate au from any other medieval aus!! I’ve seen those and love those though)
(the rest of the drdt cast also exists in this au too btw. im considering making charles a butler or a lord or something. none of the cast are the king or queen by the way! that’s aces parents / Eden’s parents. ace also still has all his siblings)
tw for mild homophobia
- Prince Ace, a soon-to-be king, is arranged to marry Princess Eden from a nearby kingdom.
- Both Ace and Eden are upset about the marriage, as Ace is gay (he’s subconsciously aware that he isn’t attracted to women) and Eden is lesbian.
- They both feel resigned to their fate despite their discontent.
- While coping on the back balcony, Ace meets Sir Whit, the newly promoted head of the royal guard. (somehow. who knows how whit got promoted tbh)
- They talk, during which Whit makes joking advances towards Ace.
- Ace, though flustered by Whit’s passes, thinks about the consequences of both liking a man and betraying the kingdom.
(he doesn’t personally care about the latter but he does fear that his father would… idk execute him or something. he is also in denial.)
- Much to Ace’s dismay, they become close friends. However, Whit is aware of the upcoming marriage, so he tries to shut off his own feelings to save himself from feeling bad.
- A few months pass, in which Whit helps Ace overcome his own fears and come to terms with his feelings and sexuality. They start slow (like doing horseback riding together haha), but end up routinely sneaking out together.
- On one particular night, on the same balcony they met, just a day before the wedding, something happens. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, Ace kisses Whit and REALLY likes it.
- He realizes that he wants this man. But, realizing that he might get caught, Ace runs away.
- Before the wedding, Ace and Eden finally meet. While preparing for the ceremony, they bond over their shared reluctance of their marriage.
- Eden confesses that she’s actually a lesbian, and there’s a lady back at her kingdom that she’s deeply in love with. (it’s arei LMFAO)
- Ace bluntly replies that he’s gay too.
- insert uhh lightbulb ding effect
- They conjure a plan to get married for convenience, and to appease their parents, but mostly so that they can pursue their own partners. They worry about the kiss though and the people who might be watching. Especially Whit and Arei.
- Skip to the wedding day, Whit suppresses his feelings (like usual) and claps while he watches someone he loves dearly get married off to another. Whit excuses himself from the wedding.
- For post-ceremonial reasons, Ace can’t apologize or even talk to Whit for another week.
i haven’t really thought about the rest but i assume that, once Ace is allowed to go out, he will be the one confessing his love to whit. whit gets “caught”, miscommunication,,,, idek they just… ARE IN LOVE. HAHA.. if you want to write any fics about this or make any art feel free! use the tag “#whace prince and knight au”
thank you!!
THANK YOU FOR READING MY CLICHE YAOI FANFIC ILY IF YOU GET THIS FAR.
THANK YOU FOR 75 FOLLOWERS TOO!!!!
id also like to say that i might start opening commissions because i need a form of making money. but umm i don’t know how to start a paypal or venmo or anything like that. LOL. digital gift cards could work i guess, uhhhh idk. dm me for info!
#whace#HRHRHEHEHE#drdt#danganronpa despair time#ace markey#whit young#there’s a bunch of negative space in this drawing plus wonk anatomy issues#but oh well who even cares#whace prince and knight au#knight#armor#<<albeit not that great#whace au#drdt fanart#eden tobisa#(mentioned)#medieval au#commisions open#drdt whit#drdt ace#eat up whace nation#tw homophobia
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Relief ft Benjicot Blackwood
Benjicot is to be married off, and you don’t believe it is to you.
Tags: fluff, arranged marriage, lots of fluff, not proofread
The grease from the bird coats your fingers as you pick at your food, pushing it around the plate but not eating.
“Y/N!” your sister hisses, chiding you for the mess you’re making, and you cannot offer her anything in response but a childish eye roll.
“Stop that,” she whispers. “You blame me, but this is not my doing.”
Though she’s right, you fear you will hate your only sister until your final breath rattles in your chest.
It is you who has loved Benjicot Blackwood since you were practically babes.
You who has spent your years teasing him, learning him, meeting him in secret as - even though you still kept your maidenhead - the two of you spending time alone was improper.
It is you who knows every freckle on his face, has the brown of eyes his memorized so that you see it when you close yours, and can smell his scent in the wind on cold days.
Yet you know, by the end of this night, your sister will be betrothed to him. Not you.
Everyone whispers of it. A union between your great houses. A lord and lady to wed. Your sister is older and must marry first, and Benjicot is heir to the stewardship of these lands, and so it will be the two of them united.
Wiping your hands on a napkin, you rise and excuse yourself. Your parents sit even now with Ben’s parents, bartering the union, and soon it will be announced. You exit the hall and find yourself outside, the chill in the air raising bumps on your uncovered arms. The guards in the courtyard glance at you, and then away.
No one stops you as you cross the muddy courtyard and through the open gate under the quickly setting sun. Just ten minutes, you tell yourself. Ten minutes to gather your composure, and then you can return.
Ten grows to twenty, and thirty, and the chill is bone deep before you return to the fort. Unable to bring yourself back to the banquet all, no matter how you will be chastised for it later, you make way for the guest quarters, aiming to cry yourself to sleep.
“Y/N!” a familiar voice hollers as you begin to round the bend in the stairs. You stop, and turn to see Benjicot charging up after you, breathless. “I have been searching everywhere! Where the fuck have you been?”
“Out,” you reply.
“Out? You left in the middle of dinner.”
You shrug. “Why does it matter? I am sure no one else noticed.”
You try not to be touched by the fact that he did. After all, he won’t be yours much longer. The thought grips your chest, spreading like black ink out to your limbs, and you feel exhausted by it. You just want to lay down away from everyone and forget even your own name.
A smile spreads across Benjicot’s face, a familiar, cunning smile that sends chills down the spines of his enemies, and up yours.
“Everyone noticed you left. How can they announce my betrothal, if my betrothed is missing?”
The words don’t quite make sense in your mind when you first hear them. “Missing?”
You ask. “My father made to announce that we are to wed, and a panic ensued when you were found not present.”
“You and I, to be wed?”
He simply nods.
“But, my sister?”
“I spoke plainly with my father, and yours. Your sister has many prospects for her hand, and we will wait until she is married to proceed with our ceremony, but I would have none but you.”
Your heart, heavy almost moments ago, flutters in your chest.
“We are to wed?” you ask again, and Benjicot cannot help but laugh. Instead of answering, he wraps a strong hand around the back of your neck and pulls your mouth firmly to his.
“You are to be mine, as you always have been,” he whispers against your lips, and you fall into him, a sob of relief escaping you.
“Hush now,” he chides as he places kisses all over your face, still cold from the outside chill. “No tears in the face of good news, my beloved.”
You throw your arms around his waist, and he holds you tight to him, tucking you into his warm chest.
“They are happy tears,” you manage to say into his coat, and he laughs again, the sound more beautiful than any you’ve heard before.
“I am hurt that you thought I would let you go so easily, my dove. Come. Dry your face, and we will go show them all how happy we are.”
And indeed, you do. There are huge for everyone. Your father and mother, your sister with tears of relief in her eyes, and your future family as well.
Benjicot steals you away once the congratulations have ended, to join the dancing. You feel lighter than air as he spins you around and dips you down low, whispering kind words and dirty promises your ears all the whole.
When the night is ended and you must part, he kisses you again. “Sleep well, wife,” he whispers, and you blush.
Sleep does come, eventually, and your dreams are filled with your betrothed.
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close the door | hanni pham
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e01a5fe3827c8d42454dd05d01ac34ce/774ea479390bc695-77/s540x810/1a33785c564b3532e6022d12c90a7cc4a830935f.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/886b0345ee7c827673cc39bbbe96c46e/774ea479390bc695-f2/s540x810/c1a500bde7d1fc729e169380790e59c7d9e29c27.jpg)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/29cc125d57af1c9e3f1ea99fe839919b/774ea479390bc695-eb/s540x810/877aff2af21b07a88e4091a531e77b9f94049a23.jpg)
synopsis : you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she.
genre : fluffy smut!
pairing : non-idol!hanni x gf!femreader
tags : they’re in love your honor, lots of kissing and making out, cuddling, l-bombs, top!femreader, bottom!hanni, they’re both virgins, fingering, clit play, nipple play, neck kissing, hanni’s dogs are mentioned twice lawl, lots of comfort, lots of consent! they’re literally just lovey dovey girlfriends having sex for the first time aheheh
warnings : none :]
word count : 2.5k
a/n : if you’re rereading this and thinking “hey the synopsis changed and there wasn’t an author’s note before!!” well you’d be right I POSTED THIS IN A RUSH I’M SO SORRYYFKEJF
anyways!! this is just to say that this fic is inspired by the lovely writer that is sorry for tagging you twice ahh @facefullofsadness’s fic right over here :] sooo GO READ THAT FIRST! it’s truly lovely and i really enjoyed reading it, hence why i wrote thisskfke. thank you for readingg<33
oh how you loved your girlfriend.
you would die for your girlfriend, actually, even if you only started dating barely a few months ago. who could blame you? that’s what happens when you’ve been best friends prior to your relationship for so, so, so long. it simply started with a ‘hi! my name’s hanni! what’s yours?’ from her part at the innocent age of seven and just like that, years later, you guys were still inseparable.
so really, your life-long friendship and months-long relationship were both with the same gorgeous and outgoing girl, and the only thing distinguishing those two was the label you used to describe them.
“bro i genuinely don’t understand why he doesn’t just… run away. cause— get this, there’s obviously a murderer in his house right? and what does he decide to do about that? just stay in there. like, okay.. like i’m aware they needed plot but lord, i don’t know at least make it somewhat realistic you know what i mean—“ was what your girlfriend said, on her bed as she sat down in between your legs and leaned her back against you, her head facing forward and resting on your shoulder.
you simply nodded along to her words as you played with her hair, trying your hardest to stay focused on the piece of media before you whilst also paying your utmost attention to her, despite her constant ranting and criticizing of the entire movie. you, having originally liked the film, were now conflicted about your opinion on it. it’s not like she was wrong, her very heavy criticism had to have come from somewhere, after all, but you couldn’t help but slightly appreciate the storyline. so, you weren’t really sure what you felt about it anymore.
one thing you were certain of, however,
was that your girlfriend looked really good while passionately rambling. like, way too good. she had tied her dark hair into a high ponytail, it also looked wavy due to the rain that was pouring on you guys earlier, her messy bangs fell perfectly onto her forehead. and her smile? it always looked perfect. she always looked perfect.
and since you apparently weren’t hiding your admiration well enough, she very quickly noticed it.
she giggled teasingly. her voice sweet like honey, her australian accent more prominent than usual, she spoke up, “hello?” before full-on laughing, “were you even listening to me?”
you could only kiss her, that seemed like the only appropriate response in the heat of the moment. she, of course, kissed back just as lovingly before pulling away moments after, a curious and confused look on her face.
“no seriously, what is up with you?” she kept teasing, smiling stupidly as she kept her gaze lingering on yours for the following seconds, her eyes unconsciously drifting to your lips. “you look stupid.”
“and you look really pretty.” was what you whispered back to her, earning a shy smile and an exaggerated eye roll from her. immediately, you made your lips come into contact with hers again. it felt as if the world would stop spinning if you didn’t, like a slowly growing urge to keep touching her suddenly came over you and you needed to fill it.
“so.. so pretty.” you mumbled, so quietly that it was almost to yourself, before going back in. you allowed yourself to make the kiss deeper and slid her tongue across her soft lips as you demanded entrance. you could hear her let out slight noises, she clearly was not expecting you to do anything of the sorts, at least not right now. she was a tad bit confused, but let you in, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to kiss their girlfriend? immediately, your hands wrapped around her waist whilst you continued kissing her lovingly, your tongue roaming every part of her mouth.
it didn’t take long before your hands started naturally reaching under her top, caressing on her tummy and progressively going higher with each sound she let out.
you pulled away, slightly worried of going too far, “c-can.. can i continue, hanni?”
you were scared, terrified, even! despite knowing each other for years, you’d only been dating for a few months; those are two completely different things! it’s not like you see your completely platonic best friend’s naked body every tuesday. even then, despite dating, you still haven’t gotten that stage of the relationship. and on top of that,
the two of you were a proper pair of virgins. you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she. you didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced loser to her, you wanted to take care of her and make her feel good. what if that didn’t happen? what if you made it awkward between the two of you?? it was nerve-racking.
as if barging into your mind and reading your thoughts, wanting to reassure you, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner before nodding. then, she spoke up, “can you close the door?”
“there’s.. nobody home, though?”
she giggled, “oh i know, it’s just that i don’t want the dogs to potentially walk in on this.”
you groaned dramatically, laughing and insisting that you were too lazy to get up and that her dogs wouldn’t understand the situation if they even walked in. she, in response, just tapped your knee with a cheeky smile, encouraging you to stand up.
“come on y/n, close the door. think about milly and mia; think about their innocence!” she exaggerated.
after playfully hitting her arm and laughing along with her, you got up, proceeded to close and lock the door like she asked you to and eventually walked back to her bed, sitting back on it and positioning yourself the way you originally were, her back to you again.
“happy?” you asked in a fake arrogant tone.
she hummed, radiant, “yes, very happy.” before turning her head just right and kissing you again.
eventually back to the original rhythm of the kiss, you placed your hands back on her stomach again, slowly caressing and teasing higher and higher with time. once you reached her bra, you proceeded to impatiently unhook it, immediately taking it off of her.
her breathing got heavier with each second that passed, partially due to nervousness, probably. you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the case for you too. the more your hands carefully roamed her body, the more self-conscious you got, you truly had no idea what you were doing.
then, as if something in your mind clicked, you had an idea. what if you just did to her whatever you enjoyed doing to yourself in moments like these? that could work.. right? maybe??
you glided your hand upwards, your finger lightly grazing her nipple. in response to the sudden movement, a lewd sound accidentally escaped from her pretty lips, her breath hitching. that sound was a small moan.
a small one, barely audible, yet it was still enough for you to feel the activation of every single neuron residing in your brain.
then suddenly, it’s like the concept of making love to her wasn’t as nerve-racking as it originally was.
“s-sorry..” she apologized, seeming slightly embarrassed.
you kissed her cheek, reassuring her, “don’t apologize, i wanna hear you.”
despite it being an accident, she seemed to enjoy the sensation of your hand on her chest, so you went back to teasing her tits and gently groping them before you eventually asked, “is it okay if i go further..?”
nodding in a keen manner, she swallowed her saliva, then breathed out her response, “yes. yes keep— keep going. please.”
well shit! even if you wanted to stop, it’s not like you could, not with how good she sounded pleading for you.
not wasting any more time, you proceeded to separate one of your hands from her chest and quickly slid it downwards; to the band of her sweatpants. now, of course, your other hand was still in its original place, working its magic, but you wanted her to feel more. so much more.
you wanted to convey every surge of affection you violently felt for her into pleasure. and, if there was one thing you surely knew how to do, it was kissing her.
so, you started kissing on her neck, which she didn’t expect whatsoever, and still heavily concentrated on the hand you had on her breast. then, you pulled on the sleeve of her tee just enough to expose her shoulder and moved your mouth towards it, nipping and gently licking it.
your hand now fully slipped into her pants, you teased her entrance through the fabric of her underwear as you kept kissing her naked shoulder. you listened to her attentively and took mental notes of her reactions; so far, her breathing got heavier, her thighs slightly clenched around your hand and she was now frequently biting her lip.
plus, her panties were wet.
did all of that mean you were doing good? …perhaps it did!
and did her drenched underwear make you short circuit? perhaps it did as well!
“d-d’you feel okay?” you asked, before going back to slowly kissing her shoulder. she threw you a quick glance, chest heaving up and down.
“s-so okay.” she giggled.
her smile being contagious, you found yourself doing the exact same thing, content with the answer she gave you.
soon enough, you traced your finger up her clothed slit before eventually sliding it into the undergarment she wore, making her shudder. after what felt like an eternity, you could feel her slick coat your digits from one swipe of the finger.
it was tantalizing.
growing impatient, you quickly yet carefully settled your middle and ring finger on her swollen clit, making slow circular motions on it, looking at her in the process. full on whimpering, this time, she stared back at you, no longer embarrassed. she wanted to let you know how good you were making her feel, hence why she was getting louder with each movement you made, and it filled you with enough confidence and adrenaline to gently push her head towards you, leaning in for a kiss.
thankfully, she kissed you back, deeply at that, her eyes closed and her quiet moans muffled.
you pulled away after a few moments, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you reminded her. she simply nodded, brain all fuzzy from arousal.
she grabbed your other hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “g-go slowly.” she whispered.
“i will.” you affirmed.
slowly and gently, you slid your fingers into her core, making sure not to go too fast or too rough. thankfully, the wetness was making it easier for you, and probably for her as well. every time that your girlfriend’s breath hitched, that her hand gripped harder on yours or, hell, every time that her eyes closed, you stopped in your tracks and double checked to see if you were hurting her, so it took a little while for your digits to fully penetrate her.
fortunately, she assured you that you weren’t, in fact, hurting her. some moments just felt more comfortable than others, is all.
once they were fully in, you gave her time to get used to the feeling, still double checking on her state every now and then. after a few deep breaths, she nodded.
“i-i’m ready.”
you started to pump your fingers in and out of her, taking in all of her as your speed slowly increased as time went on. naturally, as more time passed, you felt the urge to make her feel good get even stronger.
that’s when you decided to increase the pace, your fingers curling on just the right spot inside her, pumping faster and faster as your thumb played with her clit.
“is this okay baby—” you asked.
“f-fuck— yes y/n that feels good—“ was what she moaned out, cutting you off. a feeling of bliss progressively and clearly overtaking her whole body.
when you tried to look at her despite only being able to see her side profile, you could’ve sworn you saw an angel. her cheeks were slightly tinted with a pinkish color and her eyebrows were upturned, her whole face contorted with pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat. her eyes hooded with lust, hanni looked down at herself and attentively watched as you played with her. your fingers swimming in her slick, navigating in her folds the way a skilled sailor would the vast ocean, it was hypnotizing, and she realized how this was probably the way you got yourself off on a regular day, and she couldn’t help but moan at both the thought and the sensation.
you made her feel good, you made her feel happy, loved. you always did.
amidst the chaos that was her messy bed, the setting somehow looked better than every piece of artwork you’d ever seen combined. the bed creaked ever so slightly, and she looked and sounded so beautiful, especially with the way the sun set directly on her parted lips at that moment.
you were certain that your heart skipped a beat at the sight.
“i love you so much, hanni.” you softly said, kissing the back of her ear whilst you kept fingering her. she couldn’t form proper words, so she simply tightened her grip on your hand more, as a way to say it back.
then, once you picked up a stable pace for a few minutes, her back arched against you, her breathing getting heavier, practically panting. her hand’s grip on yours getting tighter, you felt her hot breath hit your neck once she settled her head into the crook of it.
“y/n— baby i think i’m- i’m— mmh—“
that was the moment she reached climax, letting out a long and loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, bucking her hips against your hand before smashing her lips onto yours. quietly, she let a few i love yous slip out of her mouth between kisses, her hand resting on your head, fingers intertwined with your soft hair.
you particularly made sure to say it back to her every time.
you pulled out your fingers and took your hand out of her pants. still coming down from her high, she smiled at you with tired eyes and kissed your cheek. you smiled back, looking at her lovingly.
“d-did i do okay?”
she giggled, “..are you seriously asking me that? do you not see me right now?”
you raised your eyebrows, playful, “for all i know you were faking it.”
“yeah, actually.. i was faking it, especially with how wet i was from the whole thing. aren’t i such a good actor y/n? it’s almost like i legitimately came really hard—”
“shut up.” you elbowed her, laughing. she gave you a cheeky smile before she got up from the bed, grabbed a pair of new underwear from her drawer and opened the bedroom door, heading straight towards the living room to pet her dogs after changing.
“hey y/n?”
“hm?”
“…wanna bake brownies in a bit?”
“uhm.. yes? what kind of question is that?? let me just go wash my hands first.” you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom before adding on, “unless you wanna eat very unsanitary cum-buttered brownies, of course—“
you heard her contagious laugh from across the hallway, making you smile to yourself, “you’re fucking disgusting— go wash your hands, you weirdo!”
oh how you loved your girlfriend.
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