#and after rushing to the courts the first thing he did was to make sure she was okay 🤧 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kitimeq · 2 months ago

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✿‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ say yes to heaven 🤍 sylus 秦 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ✿

pairing ✿‧₊˚: lads sylus x reader

summary ✿‧₊˚: 3+1: three times Sylus suppresses his desire to have you, and one time his control finally snaps. sprinkled with relationship fluff, size difference, love confessions and whole lot of overthinking from our fav crow boy.

word count ✿‧₊˚: 13.6k (a whole ass freaking novella, grab a snack.)

tropes ✿‧₊˚: 18+, 3+1, smut, but packed with feelings, fluff, est. relationship, body worship, plot with porn??, love confessions, sylus is obsessed, and so in love, first times implied, p in v, size difference, (by size difference i mean sylus is freaking huge, like a mountain of a man, so big it actually makes him nervous bc u so small, every single one of us would be a small dot next to him that’s my personal headcanon, have you seen his ib memory? yeah, yeah u have this man HUGE), anyways what is protection they don’t use it don’t be like them, needy sylus, pet names, everything is consensual, awooo.

author’s note ✿‧₊˚: hello! i was cooking this one for so much time, i hope it’s not too boring! I’m not a native speaker so i apologize in advance for all mistakes or repetitions. I was also trying to write inclusive y/n and i hope i succeeded. I also did not imagine y/n to have a specific body type — i truly believe that no matter your size, next to sylus you would look like a crumb. as small as a pebble. believe me, i’ve studied the sacred texts (night of secrecy, grassland romance, innocent birdcage do i really have to keep on listing the memories where he enormous u get the gist). so!! i hope you’ll enjoy it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ ݁

Sylus usually considered himself to be a patient man.

He occasionally did act on his desires—he could admit that much—but when it came to the things he truly cared about, the things he treasured, he didn’t mind the wait. He knew that the best things in life came at a price, and if the currency was time, in this case he was willing to pay in full. He knew it was worth it. That you were worth it.

You, who accepted him as he was, with all his flaws and imperfections, making his life better every day you were together. You, who were so brave, gentle, and kind that you made him want to become a better man too—just so that one day, he could say he truly deserved you. You, who he had completely fallen for, unable to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t make the same choice of courting you all over again.

That’s why he wanted nothing more than to treasure and respect you in every aspect of life—including intimacy and his own desires. And to be perfectly candid, he had plenty of those from the very moment he laid eyes on you. But he wanted to act like a gentleman, never rushing you into anything. He was patient, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to be sure you trusted him, that you weren’t afraid of him—or of the things he wanted to do to you if he ever got the chance.

And even after several months of officially dating you, he still stuck to his resolve, despite the unhealthy hunger growing inside him. He was adamant that you make the first move, even though the waiting was slowly killing him from the inside—his desires burning through his skin, desperate to see the light of your glossy eyes, to feel you squirming beneath him, and to hear your soft moans and whimpers, letting him know that you wanted him too.

He wanted you passionately. He didn’t desire anyone or anything else in his life. He had never thought of anyone else in such terms, which made the wait much more bearable, fun even. The occasional tension in the air only made things between you even more intriguing. Sylus wondered when the moment would come for you to finally let him explore you, taste you, just as he had wanted since the first time he held you in his arms.

He was a patient man. An inquisitive one, but patient nonetheless.

But it was just getting too much for him to handle lately.

He wondered if you were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to make him go feral with want, push him into some action? Maybe you were just too shy to ask for something more, and decided to coax him to take you right then and there? Was it an act? A part of your meticulous, sneaky plan?

He felt his sanity slowly dissipating.

“Sylus? Please, hurry up and help me, we have to go!” You turned your head to look at him, your lips puckered in an adorable pout, and your feet anxiously shifting from one to the other, the sound of your beautiful black heels clicking against the floor of your apartment. The red soles didn’t go unnoticed by him.

And what didn’t go unnoticed as well was how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked, dressed in your tight black gown that accentuated the figure he was obsessed with.

However, he was a strong man. He could look at you in a dress and not get an instant boner; he wasn’t some mere beast. But when you asked for his help, he realized that life hadn’t prepared him for everything you had up your sleeve.

Because right now, you stood before him, your back turned toward him, holding your hair in your hands and exposing a zipper that you wanted him to take care of. A zipper that ran from your neck down, down, down to your red lace panties, which peeked out from beneath the unzipped black material.

He turned his head upward at the sight, his hand reaching for the bridge of his nose, a silent prayer escaping his lips. If God existed, He was not merciful this time.

He could also clearly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, the soft skin of your back exposed, slightly hidden under the material of the dress. Hadn’t he suffered enough?

He wanted to bark. Badly.

Oh fuck, was he really going to bark?

He hoped not.

“Sy?” The nickname almost made his legs buckle. He needed a moment to calm himself after just one look at you, and it seemed to take him much longer than what would be considered natural. The impatience in your voice betrayed your desire not to be late for the opera performance, which he had promised to take you to today. He gulped audibly and realized that you had no idea what you were doing to him—and that scared him.

If you were this dangerous unintentionally, how will he survive when you’ll finally, consciously decide to take things further?

“Yes. Yes, of course, sweetie.” He managed to choke out and stepped closer to you, your delectable scent overwhelming his senses. He tried to hide the slight tremble in his hands as he reached for the zipper at the bottom of your dress. When he zipped you up, he took his sweet time caressing your body with his knuckles, basking in the soft feeling of your skin and the dangerous touch of the lace of your panties. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat—or see the pink in his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, but now he was sure of it, judging by the warmth on his face.

He was hopeless. Utterly ruined.

“There you go.” He said quietly, caressing your beautiful hair with his fingers, smoothing the creases which appeared after your hold. He brushed it from your neck and planted a slow kiss there, his movements far too composed for someone who was boiling with desire inside.

“Thank you. I couldn’t reach it at all and we’re already short on time.” You put your hand on his head, patting it gently and sighing when he touched your waist. He couldn’t help but squeeze you there, feeling the warmth of your skin through the soft material of your dress. You understood this gesture as teasing and giggled adorably.

“You look magnificent, my dove.” The compliment slipped through his lips, earning him your sweet smile and a kiss on a cheek. He watched as you passed him to grab your purse, going straight to the front door, leaving him behind. Trusting he’ll follow your step, as he always did.

Sylus closed his eyes and touched the very spot on his cheek where your lips had grazed, releasing a sigh that could be interpreted as both contentment and a silent prayer for endurance.

“You coming, Sy?” He could hear you calling for him, and he opened his eyes. His left one shone brightly at him from his reflection on the window. His Evol proved useless when his body already made it abundantly clear what—or whom—he desired the most.

“I fucking wish.” He whispered under his breath, turned around, and walked up to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he reveled in the weight of your body pressing against him. His ears were graced by your little squeal, that quickly transformed into uncontrollable laughter, a sound he wanted to record and play every time you were away.

You slapped his back playfully and joked about wanting to use your legs once in a while, and he laughed, saying that he just wanted to make sure that he had all he needed with him. Then, he grabbed his coat with his Evol, and used it to slam the door after you both went out. He hoped that the lust he felt, which started to get out of his control, managed to stay behind them.

He waited for so long; how hard could it be to wait for another couple of months?

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Hard.

Tremendously hard, both theoretically and physically, given the reaction of his body upon the contact.

He shifted slightly so that you wouldn’t feel his growing bulge against your core, his hands hovered over your thighs, his cheeks flaming hot. He was about to fucking pass out.

But you were none the wiser, sitting on his body, strangling him with your soft, mouth-watering thighs, practically rubbing yourself against him, and performing your little dance of victory after pushing him to the ground during your sparring.

Normally, he would have laughed with you and treasured your moment of happiness, his senses overwhelmed by pride as he watched you get better and better at self-defense with every practice.

But that was just cruel.

Not only did you show up in that little piece of fabric covering your breasts, something you dared to call a sports bra, its thin straps reminiscent of a fish net, offering NO support whatsoever for your charms, but you also dared to wear that pair of leggings you claimed you had bought with your friend during your last trip to the mall.

And they were leaving nothing for his imagination, your every curve hugged tightly, every dip deliciously emphasized. And fuck, you looked gorgeous in wine red. You knew you did.

“I got it in your color! Do you like it?” You asked upon entering his gym, twirling for him like the most adorable fucking thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, your arms up and your hair still untied. He did saw red, and it wasn’t just the color of your clothing.

His color. His girl in his color, he was going absolutely feral.

“I do.” He choked out, and tried to avert his eyes from your posture but lost that battle quickly. “You look stunning. My little gem.” He answered and you dared to look at him sheepishly, your face showing the signs of getting flustered.

“I’m not just a gem anymore. I’m a professional fighter.” You playfully punched his shoulder, jumping around and mimicking boxing moves, making him laugh out loud as he grabbed your fists in his hands. He pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapping around your frame.

“Is that an apology in advance?” You asked him when his lips left your skin. He smirked, his brow raising.

“Might be. Today we’ll be practicing attacks and knocking down your opponent.”

“Me? Knocking you down?” You looked at him with disbelief, your hands dropping to your sides, already defeated. “I’m doomed. Sylus, can’t I knock down Luke or Kieran instead?” Your cute pout and hands clasped in a begging gesture made him laugh again, as he fixed the bandages on your hands.

“And you think they would be easier to conquer?”

“Yes. Obviously, yes.”

“But they wouldn’t make sure you’re not going to hurt yourself, kitten, and I already know your patterns…” He leaned over you, his hot breath caressing your ear, making you shiver. His hands avoided touching your body. “And weak spots…” A whisper and a gentle bite on your earlobe were enough to send your adrenaline soaring.

“You—!” You jumped from him, like a little kitten, your face flustered and gaze filled with playful threat. “You’re going down mister. You’re SO going dooown.”

And down he went.

Right under your soft body, squashed between your warm tights, looking up at your beautiful lips twisted in an adorable, cunning smirk.

Oh, the way he loved you. The way he wanted to have you. The intensity of that feeling started to suffocate him.

“Okay, you got me, sweetie.” He choked out and tried his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. But nothing about this situation was nonchalant—your soft tights squeezing his waist and your butt pressing on his weak spot almost made him see stars. He grabbed your waist to try to stop your body from moving and gritted his teeth, fighting with himself to not buckle his hips up. “Now, up. I admit defeat.”

Defeat that had to do with the improvement of your skills and the force of your little fists, yes, but also with the way Sylus was distracted by your body, his eyes wandering everywhere during the battle, but not the places he should actually pay attention to.

Apparently, he was a weak, weak man, when the situation concerned you. Weak and impossibly horny.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I want to.” You answered, a mischievous glint adored your gaze. He drank that expression in.

Beautiful. You were absolutely beautiful, sitting on him, your body sparkling with sweat, face red from the exhaustion. How could he keep his mind from going places? “I think I like you like this.” His eyebrows went up, and cheeks felt a little bit too warm for his liking.

What were you trying to say?

“Yes? Like what, kitten?” His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He knew that you could feel it, one of your hands rested on top of it, stroking his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin through his shirt. He shivered, his body covered in goosebumps, finding the gentle touch too intense, somehow.

“Towering over you.” His breath hitched; his heart almost stopped its beating. “It’s much easier to look at your face when I’m like this. It’s nice.” His heart squeezed instead, your confession turning out to be more touching than teasing, and he cursed himself internally for belittling your interactions and intimacy lately. His mind immediately assumed sexual undertones, where everything you were doing with him, at your own, unique pace should be more than enough for him.

“You like looking at me that much, huh?” He answered, his hand going up to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled with content, and he put his hand at the nape of your neck, hoping you’ll understand the implications.

You did. Not a second later you lowered your body so that you were lying on top of him, one of his hands holding you to himself by your waist, pressing you even closer together. He acknowledged how much he loved your full weight on his body, your hearts pressed so close to each other they started beating as one.

You put your hands on his cheeks, smiled down at him, and pressed a small kiss to one of his eyelids, and then to the tip of his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling.

“Of course. You’re my beautiful boy, Sylus.” You whispered to him, a smile adoring your face and he couldn’t help himself. He pulled you close by your neck and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, almost whimpering into your mouth from the intensity of his feelings.

You reciprocated the kiss, not hesitating even for a second, and soon, both of your lips were swollen and glistening, your minds filled with sparkles and cotton.

You were the one to break the kiss, your mind going dizzy, body trembling from the arousal. He could feel it without using his Evol—the desire that raised within you, the fire that now flowed through your veins. His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

One moment and you’ll go pliant against him, melting into his embrace.

One second, and he’ll finally taste heaven, be as close to you as anyone ever has been.

“Y/N, will it be alright if I—” He started speaking, your eyes looking at him from above as you held onto his cheek and neck, caressing his skin with your thumbs, making him feel oh, so cherished. Yet, he didn’t manage to finish the request because a sudden crash from the door opening pierced through the silent room, popping your comfortable bubble in an instant.

You jumped out of his embrace, leaving him cold and yearning, his hands sliding over his face in frustration.

“Boss—”

“Luke, Kieran it better be fucking important.” Sylus hissed through his teeth, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his frustration made you huff out a laugh and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. You didn’t want to laugh at him so openly, hiding how adorable his anger towards boys seemed to you at that moment.

His eyes caught yours, lured by the bubbly sound, and one of the corners of his mouth went up slightly. He raised his hand to your covered mouth and brought your hand down with his fingers, revealing your smile.

“It is, Boss! The Girm Company chairman called and demanded a meeting in thirty minutes.” Luke said quickly, Kieran peeking out from behind his shoulder. “And he didn’t want to take “no” for an answer.” Kieran added, his body now revealed.

You were not sure if Sylus was even listening, his eyes glued to your face, his fingers tracing the line of your smile absentmindedly. He still didn’t raise from the floor of the ring, his posture relaxed, one arm now resting behind his head.

“That bastard.” He answered under his breath, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a second and when he opened them, they were once again glued to you. “If you don’t want me to leave, just say a word.” He said, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. The back of his hand started a slow caress of your cheek, and you felt embarrassed, knowing that the boys were still looking at you both, waiting for Sylus’s answer.

“It’s okay, Sy. I actually have some errands to run in Linkon so I better get going.” You answered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his fingers. His breath hitched, eyes following the movement with a longing deep in his chest. “Besides, I’m tired of beating your ass today. Save some dignity for the next time.” You added with a mischievous look, poking his hard chest with your finger teasingly.

The laugh that came out of his chest was sudden—loud, deep, and so sincere that it warmed your chest, your lips spreading in a proud smile. He grabbed your hand off of his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips. The mirth in his eyes clearly visible, the affection bare and tangible.

“You are so generous, sweetie. Letting your pray off the hook so easily.” He couldn’t stop smiling even when he was raising to his feet, his hand going to massage his left shoulder. He looked at you and offered you his hand, which you immediately accepted. He helped you stand, his eyes tracing your every move, still unable to look away.

Your body entranced him, your presence lit a fire in his veins. The point where your hands touched warm and almost overwhelming. His desire for more once again proven unquenchable.

“Boys, let him know I’ll be there. It seems that I need to remind him who actually is in the position to make demands.” His voice was now authoritative, followed by the boys’ exclamations of “Will do, boss,” along with two salutes send his way.

And they were gone just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Don’t be too harsh on the chairman. I don’t want to get in the way of your business.” He saw you turn to him with a worried expression on your face, and he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering on the spot for much longer than necessary.

“Hmm, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes. The sadness of you parting ways already blooming inside him. “They cut our time together short, so I’m planning on making them pay for that offense generously.” He smirked and watched you shake your head with disbelief, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I already miss you.” He heard you saying and you surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck, then kissing him almost senseless.

He closed his eyes and returned the kiss, which was starting to border on filthy. His hands grabbed your frame, pressing you closer to him, as his body bent toward you.

When you parted, your breaths were hot and heavy, a string of saliva still keeping your mouths connected. He stared at the filthy sight, his heart pounding in his chest, his boxers starting to become a rather tight fit. You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away gently, your fingers trailing downward until they grazed his abdomen. He gulped audibly and remained still, watching you walk further and further away. He didn’t trust himself to move even an inch, afraid he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself anymore.

“Bye, Sylus. I’ll let you know when I get home safely.” You told him, walking away backwards now, your eyes not leaving his. “And we’ll continue what we started next time, okay, Boss?” The last part a whisper from your sweet lips, almost making him drop to his knees right then and there. You waved at him, shyness visible on your cheeks, and then you left him in the middle of the ring, stunned and filled with excruciating desire to finally have you.

Next time.

He groaned, his hands covering his blushing face, his mind already imagining the things he’ll do to you, only if you let him. God, he hoped that you’ll let him.

He did arrive late to the meeting that day, having to compose himself for much longer than you would have expected. He also made sure the chairman regretted keeping him away from you—your softness, your scent, an addictive drug he never wanted to be deprived of. The audacity to take that from him deserved nothing less than the highest of punishments.

He couldn’t help it; he already missed you.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Sylus could write poems about his beloved, listing all her remarkable qualities and quirks; however, not once would he describe her as elegant and composed.

You usually were a tornado of various emotions, a temple of the things you cherished, your expressions lively and loud, honest and unrestrained.

You were also a bit clumsy—an occasional stumble, a bump to your limb now and then, or a broken glass wasn’t anything that Sylus hadn’t see you do before. He often worried about you and your safety, with new bruises appearing on your body from bumping into things or a piece of glass piercing through your delicate skin. Sometimes, he wished he could protect you from yourself too, but all he could do was press a kiss to every small injury you sustained from your hectic movements.

All bumps aside, he utterly adored that quality of yours. Every time he caught you acting awkwardly his chest seemed to shrink on itself, his heart squeezing, cute aggression overcoming his senses. You were just so adorable in those moments, the sight always reminding him of a little fawn, beautiful but uneasy on its feet. His craving to grab you and hold you in his arms, protecting you from the whole world, was strong; the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, then to kiss you senseless, even stronger. You were his little chaos: wonderful in your unexpectedness, extraordinary in every sense of the word.

Needless to say, he was used to your adorable clumsiness. He loved it.

That was probably why his brain stopped working when you proved to be everything but clumsy while playing the games at the local funfair. Your moves sure and precise, your gaze locked onto the targets, your body positioned exactly how it should be in order to gain the reward you wanted—whether it was a new plushie, a funky gadget or even some snacks.

And he had to say that this new, confident, borderline cocky behavior you were displaying was making him feel some things.

“Wait, let me try this time.” You said the first time he couldn’t score the prize, the claw mocking him relentlessly, wounding his pride.

You got that plushie in one, excellent attempt.

“Let me get that for you, Sy.” You proposed later, seeing him eyeing a figurine of a crow that reminded him of Mephisto. You were able to get not only that, but also a coupon for a food stall that served the best waffles you’ve ever eaten. As for Sylus, the sweetness of the treat paled in comparison to your blinding smile, with whipped cream still staining the corner of your mouth. He swiped it away with his thumb, then licked the digit, sending you a wink in the process.

He took pride in your blush, especially when making each other red that day started to feel like a competition between you two, whether you were aware of it or not.

“You want this one? Say no more, handsome.” Your words almost making him choke, your hands already grabbing the controls, your body bending over the machine, offering him a wonderful view of your ass. The tips of his ears immediately started to feel as if caught on fire. Even though he knew that you were teasing him, the pet name sounding foreign from your lips, he liked the feeling of you taking the initiative.

He also couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, your body presented to him in a way that felt illegal to watch. He swiped his gaze up from the nape of your neck to your shoulders, taking note of your delicious-looking waist, perky butt, and thighs, which seemed lonely without his hands squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

The cheerful sound of the machine made him snap back into reality, just as you were looking over your shoulder, sending him the sexiest, oh so sexy, proud smirk he ever saw in his life. He smirked right back, even though his legs felt disturbingly like jelly.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this.” He remarked, grabbing the prize from your hands once again, the rest of your treasures already sitting comfortably in the back of his car. You send him a mischievous smile and fixed your hair, your fingers threading through the strands, the smell of your perfume reaching him once again during that night.

He wanted to devour you.

“And what’s wrong with that?” One of your hands grabbed his bicep, holding on to him as you started your lazy stroll in search of yet another entertainment. “You always get me things. And since I know now that you suck at these games, I have a perfect opportunity to return the favor.” He laughed at that, his hand moving to flick your forehead.

“I don’t suck at these games, all of them are tempered with, sweetie. I actually find it astonishing that you are so good at them.” His reply kind of soothing his wounded pride, his mind once again remembering your movements from before. The way you moved with confidence and grace, the little smirks and winks you send his way. His blood started to boil several stalls ago, and it hasn’t calmed since. “Makes one wonder about the extent of your abilities.”

The new, cocky, and self-confident side of you aroused him almost to the point of him grabbing you by the waist and taking you to his car, taking advantage of his tined widows.

“It all comes down to having a good strategy, as someone once taught me.” You said, repeating the words Sylus is always saying to you during your training, a mirth lacing your tone. How he adored you.

“Wise counseling you have here, kitten. You must have a fantastic teacher, if his lessons are proving to be useful anywhere you go.” The smile not leaving your face making him never want to look away.

“Oh, yes, he is. And an eye-candy too.” You touched his nose with the tip of your finger teasingly while he laughed. He stopped walking and turned to you fully, his arms closing around your waist, bringing you to him, close enough for your bodies to touch. The height difference always made him dizzy, with your head fully tilted upward in order to catch his gaze.

“Mm. Maybe that’s a quality he learned from you.” His tone quiet, one of his hands going to touch your cheek, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. You appeared stunned. “I cannot think of someone sweeter than you. If he’s a candy, you’re one delectable dessert.” He whispered, his eyes going from your eyes to your lips, their reddish tone reminding him of a little cherry. He was fighting with himself not to put his hands on your ass, and squeeze the flesh that you kept pushing his way from the very beginning of your date, or not to place a kiss on your smart little mouth, which kept sending him these playful smirks all day long. He knew that if he started here, he would not be able to stop. No one would be capable of separating him from you, public place be damned.

His desire boiling inside him, threatening to melt his vessels and pour from his body, enveloping you in a tight, pleasurable embrace. He felt feverish, your body pressed to his giving him all the warmth he ever needed, molding his thoughts to fit only your frame.

You were perfect in his eyes. Your body, the perfect shape for him to hold, your face the only one he wanted to remember. And the way he felt when he was with you—so immensely happy, so carefree, so right—was a feeling he had never even dreamed about having. Your banter, little jokes and witty comments made him so at ease he never wanted to stop talking to you, afraid of depriving himself of even a second of the comfort you brought him: the knowledge that he could speak his mind freely, for you understood him beyond the limitations of language. By your side, he could be himself, the thoughts in his head quiet, giving way to expressing himself in any way he wanted. His little taste of heaven: the time you spent together.

He loved you. So intensely it used to scare him, but now he was offering himself willingly, no longer afraid of rejection. Even though you both still didn’t acknowledge it out loud, the feeling lingered in the air between you — a delectable sweetness, a comforting fragrance.

He wanted you. Body and soul. Soul and body. He liked to think he already had your soul in grasp, your actions and openness served as a perfect proof of that, yet your body was still his to claim. And the fact that there was still a part of you he didn’t manage to possess, to thoroughly acknowledge, frustrated him inconceivably.

Especially because you had that strong of an effect on him. Everything you did capable of driving him perfectly insane. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your little finger, without being aware how completely obsessed he was with you.

“Is that so?” His gaze went from your hypnotizing eyes back to your lips, drinking in every single whisper. You stood on your tiptoes, the sight making his hands squeeze your waist tighter, his breath quickening, mind trying to process closer distance. “If he keeps sweet-talking me like this, then I guess he will finally get to taste it.” You grabbed his chin and tilted it down, pressing a soft, drawn-out kiss to his lips. His eyes closed immediately, desperate to heighten his senses. He wanted this kiss to last, both in the moment and later in his memory.

And just as he was about to wrap his arms around your back, pulling you closer, hiding your body from everyone else just to steal a few more kisses, you stepped back, the quiet sound of a smooch echoing between you. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood, restraining himself from chasing after your lips.

“C’mon now. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve that I need to show you.” You gripped his hand tighter and started to walk toward one of the booths. You sent him a smile over your shoulder, making his efforts to calm his racing heart futile. “And then maybe we can grab some cotton candy? All this talk about sweets made me crave some.”

“Anything for you, sweetie.” He answered absentmindedly, your taste still lingering on his lips. How were you always able to move on from the kisses so quickly? It would be the only thing he could think about in the next minutes.

“And what do you want?”

“Hmm?” The question shocked him, his eyebrows going up, his eyes intently observing your face.

“Do you have something you’d like to do while we’re here? I keep dragging you stall to stall ever since we came here.” You said while turning to fully face him, grabbing both of his hands. “I want you to have fun too.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” His response honest, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “You make life so interesting. And today you already managed to surprise me, so I would say that was more than enough entertainment for me in a day.” You rolled your eyes at him, a small smile on your lips, and looked at him with patience.

“But the day’s not over yet. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do? Look around.”

He lifted his head from your frame and began taking in the booths and various food stalls that had previously escaped his attention. He hummed, and he could feel you shifting on your feet, unable to contain your excitement.

That’s when he caught something interesting out of the corner of his eye—a couple emerging from a small booth, huge smiles plastered on their faces as they held small pieces of paper. A spark of excitement ignited inside him upon realizing what it was.

“There. I want to have a memento.” He said, his finger pointing to that innocent-looking booth. Almost impossible to spot in the abundance of lights and sounds coming from other attractions.

“Okay! I think I already won you a mountain of mementos but if—Ah!” Your eyes lit up when you realized what he was pointing to, your lips spreading in a cheerful smile. “A photo booth! Sylus, that’s wonderful!”

It wasn’t long before you were both inside the booth, the space cramped, almost too small for him to fit. He sat on the small stool, taking up nearly all the space, leaving you no choice but to sit on one of his legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck for stability, yet there wasn’t a hint of discomfort on your face.

He loved how natural it was for you to be this close to him, the proximity no longer making you nervous. He still remembered how you were at the beginning of your acquaintance, when even an eye contact was enough to make you shy away. Now, touching him was as easy as breathing, your body relaxed and pliant under his wandering hands.

While you were clicking playfully on the screen, setting up the machine, he took his time observing you—mainly how your body looked next to his, which made him short-circuit, reminding him why he was still waiting for you to make the first move in initiating sexual intimacy. The reason he didn’t want to rush things, nervousness buried deep inside his chest.

You were sitting on his leg, your whole body weighting next to nothing, his one limb nearly twice as big as both of yours. Your soft flesh pressed to him didn’t even take up half of the place available on his leg, and when he put one of his hands on your back, the huge patch of your skin he was able to cover made him gulp audibly.

You were so tiny, next to him.

He was a huge man, and he knew that. Not just his height, but his overall build made even other men look small in comparison. While he usually considered it one of his greatest assets, a fantastic tool for intimidation, in this particular case, it planted a seed of worry in him.

It took some time for you not to shy away from his touch, not to flinch every time he leaned to you, his body covering whole line of your vision. And it took him even more time to learn how he should touch you and hold you, not to put too much force behind his caresses, not to make you bruise. And although the gentleness run in his bloodstream by now, he was still worried about the actual sex.

What if he scares you? His body completely covered your delicious curves without issue.

What if he overwhelms you? His stamina and eagerness matched his overall size.

What if he hurts you? The thought of your body unable to accommodate to his size made his blood run cold.

He looked at your body again, and he had to hold in a sigh. He loved your curves, the unbelievable softness of your skin, how warm you were. He felt his hunger increasing every day, every minute, every second he spent in your presence.

Yet he had to wait patiently, not wanting to scare you. He also knew that you were starting to get bolder with him day by day. He liked to think that it was just a matter of time until you will initiate something more, cover him with your soft embrace, let him melt in your warmth.

Because at the end of the day, his observations of your size difference not only filled his mind with fear, but also made his body tingle in all the right places. The arousal he felt knowing that he could manhandle you without any issue, cover your whole body entirely with his, shield you from the world and its coldness—all consuming. The only thing he could think about.

You were tiny in his embrace.

But he could make it work. He will make it work so good.

How could he hurt you when he was so certain that you were made to be his? Two halves of a perfect soul.

His hand slid down to hug your waist and he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. It made you giggle, you thought that it was his way of showing impatience. And it was, in a way. Just not the kind of impatience you assumed it was.

“All set! I had some fun with the stickers, do you want to choose your own?” He looked at the screen and opened his mouth to deny, but one sticker did actually catch his attention. He clicked on the small dove and placed it in the bottom of the template, next to the various hearts you already decorated it with.

“That’s you. The resemblance is almost striking.” He said making you laugh and you picked a sticker of some kind of a black bird.

“And that’s you. They unfortunately don’t have a crow one so this little fella has to work.” You placed the sticker close to the dove one, satisfied with your work.

“I get the vision. When I’m squinting my eyes, I guess.”

You had four pictures taken, all accompanied by laughter and endless teasing. One where you kissed his cheek, one hand holding his jaw, his eyes closed and features relaxed. One where he pretended to bite your neck, your face caught in laughter. One where he rolled his eyes, reacting to your lame joke of getting rabies from his bite, as you placed your pointed fingers above his head, adoring him with imaginary horns, your mouth open in fake shock. And the last one, where you grabbed his face and kissed him, his gentle smile pressed against your mouth, a picture of joy that couldn’t be restrained.

“I might have gone kind of overboard with the stickers.” You said when you got your two copies of the pictures, four perfect rectangles inside a scarlet border, adorned with hearts, flowers and stars. Two adorable birds were at the very bottom of it, just below the date. Sylus looked at the pictures, and his heart seemed to grow bigger, the wave of emotions making him unable to utter even a simple word. “But I think they’re cute regardless! It’s so nice to finally have a picture of us printed out. I’m definitely going to frame mine.” You said and took out your phone to take a picture of it.

His thumb gently caressed the piece of paper, words still stuck in his throat.

It was the very first picture of you two together, and when he looked at it, he couldn’t help but get emotional, knowing that he never expected to have someone like you in his life. Someone to cherish, to protect, to hold. Someone who reciprocated his feelings, someone who will never leave him, even if doomsday falls upon Linkon, even if the world crumbles.

“Are you okay, Sy? You’ve gone nonverbal again.” He felt your hand on his wrist, offering him a gentle squeeze. He finally looked at you, going out of the trace he was in, and saw your beautiful face laced with concern. He felt your hand going up and down his arm, caressing him in order to bring comfort.

“Did I?” He managed to choke out and hugged you to his chest, craving the closeness, not wanting you to see his slightly glistening eyes. He feared that the darkness of the night would not be enough to cover them, the lights from the fun fair only exaggerating his sudden surge of emotions. “They’re perfect. Thank you.” You hugged his torso tightly, your arms going up and down his back. You knew him well enough to realize he got emotional, but you were smart enough to let him savor his feelings in peace. If he was not comfortable showing you his tears, you had to understand it—the knowledge of how much it meant to him already warming your heart.

“Anything for you, Sylus.” You repeated the same thing he said to you earlier, and he picked you up, still hugging you to himself, his face finding coverage in the crook of your neck.

“Sly little thing.” He whispered and pressed a kiss there, drinking in the sound of your laugh and melting under the touch of your fingers, which stroked his hair affectionately.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to finally be yours completely.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Mesmerizing.

You, dancing in his room at two p.m to the new vinyl he bought, your hair down, arms up. Your eyes were closed and there was a small, relaxed smile playing on your lips, that seemed to grow bigger with each sway of your hips. You decided to wear the nightgown he got you some time ago, white lace caressing your body with a gentle flow of the shiny fabric.

He couldn’t breathe. All air sucked out of his lungs the moment he turned around and saw you swaying to the music he picked out. A surge of want so intense came over him that he was afraid to move even an inch—his body on fire, his mind filled with the visions of you, thoughts of you, and what you could be reduced to, enriched with under the touch of his hands.

If only he wasn’t a coward.

“Will you join me?” you said over your shoulder, opening your eyes slightly, and you must’ve seen something unusual in his eyes, because your movements slowed down and a furrow appeared between your brows. He wanted to kiss it off instantly. “Sy?”

You were so precious and delicate, a perfect opposite of his harsh exterior and even more barbaric interior. He waited so long, restrained himself for so much time, waiting for you to move first—now, standing before you, the thought that you wanted him this way too pierced a hole in his heart and filled it with fear.

“Forgive me. I cannot.” he answered, his voice coming out with a slight growl, that he couldn’t contain anymore. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth, hoping that he was at least successful in not making his eye glow, his Evol suddenly unstable. He didn’t want to know your desires, not when they were visible so clearly on your face now—openness and anticipation, ever since you went back from your date.

He hoped that shower would be able to calm you down, even though the warm and steady stream of the water didn’t manage to help him this time around.

He was losing his composure and he was losing it fast. Weeks of this insatiable hunger, unrelenting need and dripping tension did that to him. He knew he was fighting a losing battle ever since he laid his eyes on you today, looking so cozy in your oversized sweater, filling the air around him with your intoxicating scent.

He was ready to devour you months ago, the buildup straining his muscles now, making him restless. He was a goner—one wrong move and his previous patience and willingness for you to take the lead reducing to vapor.

“Why? We always dance together to your vinyls, especially the new ones.” Your movements faltered to a stop, your magnificent face turned to him, with an expression so honest it made his heart clench painfully.

He thought of all the times you danced under the moonlight, soft notes of his favorite music floating through the air, your bodies moving to the rhythm, sometimes gracefully, some other times not so much. The feelings overwhelmed him even more drastically, his eyes closing for a moment.

It was enough time for you to close the distance, and soon he felt your cold hand pressing against his cheek, swiping the flesh with your thumb. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter, the touch making his soul burn. You took his head in both of your hands, lowering it to face you.

“Sylus, talk to me.” you said, tone worried. He could feel you standing on your tiptoes, wanting to bring your face closer to his. His body almost shaking with the need to hold you. “You’re acting very unusual today. Is something wrong?” He exhaled the air he didn’t know he was holding and opened his eyes. Your face was so close that he could see the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. He could feel your breath, warm and inviting.

“I can’t touch you now,” he managed to utter, his hands at his sides, struck in cruel stillness. He locked his eyes with yours, filled with worry and a comforting gentleness. You were always so gentle with him; it made him go insane. “Because if I do, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

He saw the realization in the shift of your features as you fully grasped the meaning of his words. To his surprise, you took one of his hands in yours, and placed it on your cleavage, right over your beating heart, the rhythm beneath his palm fast but steady.

“Then don’t. Why would you even want to hold back with me?” You answered, slightly breathless, a pleasurable tingling already setting deeply in your abdomen. You looked at his face, the redness of his cheeks nearly matching the color of his eyes, the look he gave you so desperate it turned your legs to cotton.

The sudden burst of happiness in your chest almost made you tremble, you had waited so long for him to finally claim you as his, and it seemed he had finally reached his limit.

“I don’t—” He stumbled upon his words; a reaction so different from his usual self-confident demeanor it made you crave to uncover more versions of him. All versions of him, every single one he was willing to show you. “I can’t help but fear that I will hurt you. You are so soft, so breakable, it makes me nervous. Aren’t you scared of me? Of—Of what I could do, to you?” The confession slipping out of him, and he grabbed your wrist in one hand, the other coming to rest on your back. He slowly brought you to him, pressing your bodies together. He heard your breath falter, and drank that sound in. Then don’t — you had no idea what a hurricane you managed to stir inside him with just two simple words.

“Sy. My sweet, caring gentleman.” He heard your answer, and felt your fingers caressing his under eyes gently, your eyes never leaving his. One of your fingers touched the wrinkle between his brows, smoothing the furrowed surface. “You could never hurt me, even if you wanted to. You’re so fixated on the knowledge what you can do, that you’re forgetting that you’ve never even touched me hard enough to leave a bruise. No matter how much I wanted you to, sometimes.”

“You—”

“I’m not scared of you, Sylus. I could never, and I will never be scared of you. You’re the one with whom I feel the safest.” His hands started trembling, his patience thinning with every beautiful word from your lips. You were telling him things he didn’t even know how desperately he wanted to hear. “And I want you. I want to finally feel you, all your roughness and sharp edges. I want all of it.” The sound of your breathing mingled with the soft tunes of the vinyl. The air thick with want.

Any second now, he could feel it in the shiver down his spine.

“And I want it now.”

Snap.

His resolve shattered as he pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and desperate it left your legs trembling. He kissed you with raw intensity, his tongue exploring your mouth, drinking in every sound you made as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch he could reach.

You felt him everywhere. Your thighs, hips, waist, your neck, hair and breasts—he seemed to touch everything he was depriving himself of before. His hands huge, and although slightly rushed and trembling, still surprisingly gentle.

He lifted you up, your legs straining his waist and he laid you down on his bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second, your breath his breath, your lips water to quench his thirst.

His head was spinning, and when he finally opened his eyes the sight before him alone made him lose his mind.

You were sprawled under him, your hair a wild mess, your lips swollen from the abundance of his kisses. Your eyes glistened, the look in them so full of trust and love, love so visible it nearly broke him in half.

“You’re exquisite. Irresistible. Ethereal.” The praises slipped out of his tongue before he could stop them. The last bit of control fleeting with the touch of your impatient fingers, unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off of him in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t even find it in himself to tease you for your impatience, not when his brain already turned into mush after touching your bare skin. “You look as if you’re coated in frosting. My sweet girl, my most delectable little sin.” His eyes focused on your white dress; his hands not brave enough to let it slip off of you yet. He already feared the man he would become upon seeing you fully bared before him.

“Sylus—”

“It’s unholy. How much I want you.” His lips traced a path from beneath your ear down to your neck, finding their place on your collarbones. “How much I need you. The greed unexplainable, insatiable no matter how close I get to you. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” His eyes met yours in a silent question and you nodded quickly in permission, gulping audibly, your eyes drooping. He let his hands travel up your legs, grazing your inner thighs, swiping through your hips, his palms tracing the lace of your panties, making the hair on his body raise. He then swiped through your waist and finally, finally his hands rested on your breasts, where you wanted them from the very beginning.

His breath hitched as he looked down your body, noticing how his touch had already lifted the fabric of your dress, baring your legs and stomach. His body shielded you from the chill in the air.

He squeezed your breasts gently, fondling them in his hands, a low groan escaping his lips—the same ones which couldn’t resist kissing your belly, anywhere he could reach, not even thinking about stopping his sensual kneading. It baffled him, how soft you were, how pliant under his touch. His hands, although taking so much of the space on your body didn’t seem to make you nervous at all—every single one of his touches you accepted with soft sights, low whines and a bitten lip. You trusted him, and he was drunk on that trust, wanted more, needed to see how far it could take him.

It quickly appeared that there was no limit to the things he could do to you, your whispers not only appreciative, but also encouraging. The uncontrollable thrusts of his hips against the duvet bordered on painful, the knowledge that he would have you in mere minutes making him unbearably hard. But he accepted the friction, your comfort mattered to him the most, and he wanted to take care of you properly.

“Sylus. Sylus, more, please.” He heard your silent plea, and caught your eyes in his, and that’s when he decided it was a time for you to drop the dress. He helped you out of it then licked the goosebumps forming between your breasts, each tiny dot on your skin making him awfully aware that this was it. Your beautiful form, completely bare, just for him to see, to worship.

“My little gem.” He breathed out, his eyes drinking in your body, committing to his memory every dip and curve. “My treasure.” He nearly growled, his mouth attached to your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple, moaning in the process. He wanted to devour you whole, to not leave a patch of skin untouched by his mouth. He thrived in the way you took hold of his head, your hands messing up his hair, caressing it when his tongue worshipped your breasts and nipples, drowning in their softness. He found his safe place.

“Oh God I—I feel like I’m floating, please don’t stop.” He heard you breathe out, your chest heaving, your legs closing in an attempt to relieve the tension building inside you. “You’re so good. So, so, so good, Sy.” He released one of your nipples with a pop, and stored the visual of your skin glistening with his saliva for later. He basked in your praise and pushed himself down, knowing exactly what he wanted to do next.

“Yes? You want it, kitten? Say you do. Please. I need you to say it.” His voice groggy, laced with yearning so tangible it made your body shiver.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Please, Sy. I waited so long for you.” Your words made his head spin, a smile spreading on his lips not flirtatious at all, just pure joy and contentment. He kissed your stomach and his hands once again swiped through your whole body. He raised on his forearms and caged your head between his arms, and then pressed a long, deep kiss on your mouth which quickly turned into another wave of heavy kisses. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He was ravenous.

“I need to prepare you first, sweetie.” He said to your mouth, his words immediately swallowed by your perfect lips. You whimpered and his grip on your arm tightened involuntarily, his hand playing with your hair. “I need to take my time with you, otherwise I won’t be able to fit. You’re so tiny it scares me.” You nodded into the kiss and he smiled at you gently, and after pressing a kiss to your forehead, he went down.

And when he finally widened your legs, his mouth was on you instantly, making you moan, your legs clasping on his head reflexively. He grunted into your core, licking and sucking skillfully, guided entirely by pure need and his own instincts.

“You taste so sweet.” It wasn’t long before your legs were trembling and his fingers joined his mouth in an attempt to open you up a little more, to prepare you for what’s to come. “You’re dripping because of me.” He chuckled softly but deeply, chest filled with pride, and he licked your core once again, sucking at the sensitive bud. What he didn’t expect was when he managed to fit one finger inside you, angling it upwards, your back suddenly raised from the bed, hands reaching to his chest, delicately pushing him away. A drowned-out cry escaped your lips, the wetness between your tights increased, your plushy walls fluttered around his finger.

He made you come, and he instantly got addicted to it.

“Yes. Yes. Just like that, beautiful—Fuck.” With a swear word on his lips he wasted no time in slurping up your spent, his fingers from one, going up to two, then three. And when the only thing he could hear were your moans and whimpers, the taste of you imprinted on his tongue, the slide of his fingers smooth and slick—he realized that you were ready for him.

He slowly withdrew from your pussy, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit. As his fingers slipped out of you, he finally let himself to catch more than a glimpse of your face.

And it shattered him, how utterly ruined you looked. All flushed and heaving, skin glistening with sweat, eyes shining, filled with unshed tears.

He did that to you, and he couldn’t be more proud of himself. He licked his fingers clean, savoring your taste, then he pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around your whole body. Your head dropped on his bicep; your breath labored.

“You okay, kitten?” He asked gently, ignoring his painful erection, still stranded in the stiff fabric of his pants. His head pressed to your neck, and he inhaled the scent, licking off the droplets of sweat in the process. He couldn’t get enough.

“Yes. More than okay.” You answered, and he felt your hand wandering, trying to unbuckle his belt. His chest squeezed. “Need you now. Please, Sylus…”

“You don’t have to beg. I’ll gladly give you my everything. All of me.” His hands left your body for a moment, swiftly taking off his pants, his mouth now kissing your cheeks and nose.

“I want to taste you, too.” You whispered to him shyly, and he grunted, closing his eyes, begging every deity to give him more patience. How he would love for your little mouth to envelop him, but he knew that the sight alone would be enough to make him undone.

“Next time, okay, sweetie? I cannot wait to be inside you.” You giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his nose, stroking his hair gently.

He shivered and hissed when he took off his underwear, letting himself out in the open. He was so hard it hurt, his hand going up and down his erection in an attempt to reduce the tension, even though he knew that the only one who could truly satisfy him was you.

“Oh my god.” He heard your gasp, and noticed that you were looking at him, his body fully exposed, his cock heavy in his hand. “Sylus— Sy, it won’t fit. There’s no way that—” He silenced you with a kiss, and swiped his hand through your core, gathering the slick and spreading it on his member. The smooth glide felt so good he lost himself in the feeling for a second, his tongue licking into your mouth, swallowing your gasps.

“Shhh, I made sure to prepare you as well as I could. And I won’t hurt you, you said so yourself.” He said the last sentence into your lips, once again pressing a long kiss there. Then he kissed your cheek, and breathed hard against your neck, his one hand wrapped around your waist, holding you closer to him, and the other stroked his cock, guiding it to your entrance. When the tip touched you, he gritted his teeth and you gasped, the first contact electric. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers playing nervously with the hair at his nape.

He breathed heavily; the tip of his cock aligned perfectly with your entrance. “You can take it; you were made for me. I will make it fit.” He let go of your waist and grabbed one of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and smiling gently at you, the anticipation making his body shake. “Just relax for me, will you? Can you do that, kitten?” You nodded and exhaled slowly, some tension getting out of your body. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Close your eyes. I want you to feel me.”

“No. I need to see you, Sy. Don’t make me look away.” He chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours in a silent acceptance. He never wanted to take his eyes away from you too, your desires matching perfectly.

You were his soulmate, after all.

He pressed his erection to your opening and started to slip in, gently, unhurriedly, despite the desire to take you in one thrust of his hips. You opened your mouth in a painful moan, squeezing his hand, panic visible in your eyes. He hated that he was bringing you pain, but knew that it was inevitable, he saw how wide he was stretching you out. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Easy. You’re doing so good…” He breathed out, his hand leaving his cock to hold your hip, the other going up and down your body in a comforting caress. “Taking me so well...” His voice hoarse, sweat dripping from his forehead from the strain of keeping himself under control. He managed to put the tip in, your pussy squeezing him, your heat making him shiver, the sensation the most pleasurable he ever felt. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself down.

“It hurts, it really—it really hurts.” You whispered and he grunted, feeling you squeeze him harder, his length sliding into you deeper. He opened his eyes and lowered his body to get closer to your face, and placed a kiss between your eyebrows.

“I know, love. If you want to me stop—” He couldn’t recognize his voice anymore.

“No. Never. Please.” You kissed his brow, and send him a small smile. “I—I can take it. I was made for you, yeah?”

He huffed out a laugh, a whimper finding a way out at the same time.

“You were. Mmhm. Good.” He slipped in further, his mouth opening wider. “Good girl. Just a little more.” And before he managed to stop the shivering of his body, he burrowed himself in your tight heat almost to the brim. You were not able to take all of him in yet, but it was nearly a perfect fit, the sight of you wrapped around him made him see red, a low moan slipping out of him, your whimpers the most magnificent tune he ever heard.

“I’m going to move now.” He said and you moaned, your head nodding frantically.

He started thrusting inside you, and he felt as if fireworks exploded inside him, the desire burning brightly, need finally calming down, his mind completely at ease. Your moans, whimpers, cute little “ah,ah,ah’s” making his whole body shiver, a smile finding its way onto his swollen lips. You felt so good below him, your warmth enveloping him fully, and he started to question if he truly was worthy of such a blessing.

He didn’t care anymore. He had you, you wanted him and that was all that mattered now.

“You’re so. fucking. tight. God.” He started moving faster to the accompaniment of your small encouragements, his hand holding onto yours. And when your legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer to you, he was gone.

He grabbed your waist and lifted up your butt, the pace and force of his thrusts intensifying, his grunts leaving his mouth freely, silent praises slipping from his lips every now and then. He couldn’t stop now. Didn’t want to stop.

“I want—I want to stay inside you forever. I feel—Ah—Mm—like I’m melting.” He moaned and you felt his mouth on your body, kissing every patch of skin he was able to reach. You kept breathing out soft, quiet moans, tears filling your vision. “So cute.”

You felt so good, the stretch now pleasurable, your body accepting him fully, every thrust welcome, each one anticipated.

And he could see that so clearly on your face, his mind calming, knowing that he was able to bring you pleasure. It made him feel better too, your lovely expressions making his blood pump faster, his hips thrust deeper, just to see and hear more tokens of your delight. He was addicted to you and your reactions, to the way you sang his name, the way your skin tasted and eyes glistened every time he managed to catch eye contact.

Time quickly went by when you were losing yourselves in each other. The positions changed constantly, Sylus looking for and finding new ways to tip you over the edge, making sure you were completely satisfied. You encouraged him to leave some marks on you, and you made sure to repay the sentiment, scratching his back with your nails, and pressing hickies on his chest—he already wished for the marks to stay there forever, and you assured him that you’ll stay instead, making him jump on you once again, burying his head in your shoulder.

“Say my name, kitten. Keep—Keep saying my name.” He grunted, his hips unrelenting, your bodies soaked, your own so tired that he had to hold it in his arm for you to not slip off the bed. He kept thrusting inside you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, his movements deep and sensual, pleasure overwhelming. You granted his wish, your voice hoarse and quiet.

You were going at it for hours now, yet he still hasn’t come.

Not because he couldn’t, but because every time he was close, he was slipping out of you, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand gripping himself at the base.

He didn’t want the night to end, refused to let you go, savored the feeling of being buried deep inside you, not knowing where you ended and he began.

“Sy—Mmm—Sylus—Ah.” The words failed you, your mind filled only with pleasure and thoughts of him. You were so tired and yet he made you feel so good you wanted to stay in his arms forever. “The—Ah—The sun is rising.”

He nuzzled into your cheek, his thrusts slowing down, quiet grunts leaving his lips. He sounded wrecked.

“I know, love. You look so wonderful in this light.” He kissed your cheek and glued himself off of you, leaving your body cold and shivering. In the next second, he manhandled you onto your back again, facing him. Your hands immediately flew to cover your face, fearing how completely ruined you must have looked after so much time making love and so many orgasms ripped out of you.

“No—Mmh—Don’t hide yourself from me.” He grunted, and took your hands in his gently, revealing the beautiful mess he managed to make of you. Your face covered in tears, cheeks flushed and lips so swollen it only made him want to kiss them some more. So he did. “Never hide yourself from me, dove. Hold me.” He kissed the palms of your hands and put them on his neck, your arms going to hold him closer. He huffed out a weak laugh, his thrusts not stopping even for a second. You felt his huge hands caressing your thighs and you moaned softly. “God, I’m sorry, kitten, I just can’t stop—I—”

“It’s okay, S—Sylus. Ah—I won’t run away.” You pulled his head closer and kissed his lips softly. His hands encircled your waist, drawing your body closer to him, the hair on his forehead brushing against your chest. Your eyes met his and he seemed to calm slightly, your gaze soothing the flame inside him.

“I love you. I—” You suddenly confessed, a single tear slipping down your cheek. His breath faltered, ruby eyes widening, your words shaking his world completely. “I love you, Sylus. So much. I love you so intensely it scares me, I—Ah—” A moan was ripped from you when he suddenly picked up the pace, the sweat from his forehead landing between your breasts. Another happy tear slipped from your eye, and if you had enough energy to keep your eyes open, you’d see that he was teary-eyed too. His hands grabbed your head, turning it up so he could look straight into your eyes—his own burning with desire and unspoken devotion. He needed to hear you say the words once more, but before he could start pleading for it, you managed to read his mind.

“I love you, Sylus.”

And those words were what finally made him shatter.

He came, so violently he nearly blacked out, his whole body trembling, and movements faltering, his cock buried inside you the deepest he could go. He released grunt after grunt, his arms holding you tight to him, your soft sighs only seemed to prolong his fall. He nuzzled his face up against your neck, then cheek, his lips touching your skin, unable to press more kisses due to the uncontrollable moans coming out of his mouth.

“F-Fuck—” He managed to choke out and you tried to calm your heavy breathing, focused on his cum filling you up, so much that you could already feel it spilling out. You whined and brought your hands to his waist, holding him close, and you came one last time too, your pussy squeezing him even tighter, ripping a short cry out of him. Goosebumps spread around your body from the pleasure and you went pliant in his arms, letting your sore muscles finally rest against the soft sheets.

Sylus relaxed a few moments later, his sweaty body collapsing on top of you, mindful not to put his full weight on you. His hot, heavy breath still warmed your neck, your hearts beating rapidly against each other, showing no signs of calming anytime soon. He managed to turn onto his side, his arms still wrapped around you, taking your body with him.

You were held in a wet, yet warm embrace, his arms protecting you from the cold morning air, your bodies still connected. The silence that ascended upon you comfortable and desired after so much time of intense workout—both throats roughed up and in need of hydration.

“Sylus, I—” You started saying, your voice a rough whisper, your head raising to meet his gaze, surprised that his crimson eyes were already studying you. He put one of his hands on the back of your head, his fingers playing with your hair ever so gently.

His gaze so intense you started to turn your head away, but he gently brought it back to him. He didn’t have to open his mouth for you to understand what he was feeling—the emotion in his eyes unmistakable.

“I love you, too.” He breathed out, his hand going up to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers. His hand was cold and served as a delightful compress for your burning face. “I love you more than any words could ever express.”

He reminded you of a statue under this warm, morning light, his body perfectly sculpted. The only source of color were his cheeks, blaring red, nearly matching the color of his sparkling eyes. His wet hair still bearing the paths carved by your fingers, his lips kissed and twitching, fighting off a smile, which threatened to form when he realized how intensely you were observing him.

“My home is your home, my heart is your heart. Every breath I’ve been taking ever since I met you had already been yours — the day you tell me to cease, I will gladly do so.” He continued, his breath slowly calming down, one of your hands going to stroke his chest.

“I will never tell you to cease, you little dramatic fool.” You answered playfully, blinking away your tears, your hand going to rest on his warm cheek, his face immediately nuzzling into your palm. “If anything, I would curse you to live forever. Soundly and happily, by my side.” A soft laugh came out of his lips; a start of a smile that overtook his entire face, lightening up his features, showing off his small sharp canines.

“By your side...” He repeated, his voice possessing a dream-like quality, a smirk still visible. He swiped his hand over your body: from your shoulder, through your waist, down to your hip, and then back up. His touch soothing as always. “A curse has never sounded so sweet, my little dove.” He closed his eyes, and a sigh escaped his lips. The happiness spread through his body so intensely, that he thought he was going to burst.

Live forever, by your side. There was no other place in the entire universe where he would rather be.

He felt you squirming, a crease appearing between your brows, your hand squeezing his bicep. He hissed, feeling you squeeze him down there too, his cock still buried deep inside you, your plush walls a place he never wanted to leave. However, he knew that after so much time and so many orgasms you needed a break, your body sensitive and in need of extensive pampering. Good thing he adored spoiling you with affection.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay sweetheart?” You nodded your head, a small smile on your lips. You were just too adorable. “And then I’ll put you in a warm bath, order your favorite meal and change the sheets. Any objections?”

“None at all.” He switched your position so that he was once again on top of you, and he gently pulled out, a grunt leaving his lips at the loss of the comfortable fit. You whimpered when his cum started flowing out of you freely, and he couldn’t look away, the sight making the desire in him burn once more. He stopped himself before he started showing the cum back inside you. “Will you join me in the bath too?” He looked at your face, covered in the warm sunlight, the sight making him breathless.

“I would love to, if that’s what you want.” He hugged you to himself one more time, his body covering yours completely, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. He grazed the delicate skin with his teeth, then pressed his lips to your pulse, his tongue picking out to lick at your salty skin. “I love you.” He whispered into your neck, basking in the feeling of your heartbeat beneath his lips. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for showing me what love feels like. Thank you for accepting me.” His breath started going out labored, the intensity of the emotion too big for his body.

“Thank you, for letting me love you. You are the best thing that happened to me, Sylus. I hope you know that.” Your kiss to his temple and your hands caressing his back felt like a blessing, your bodies connected in a soul-crushing hug his own private oasis. Never in his life had he experienced such a moment of total tranquility; only you were capable of bringing him peace.

He never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t have to. No other thought filled him with so much joy. You were his, just as much as he was yours. An ideal exchange of souls.

“I do.” He breathed out, and looked into your loving eyes once again. You smiled at him, and he felt his breath being punched out of him, his ruby eyes fluttering. He shook his head and reciprocated the smile, which quickly turned into a full laugh, your bodies shaking, hearts beating in unison. “I truly do.”

Your lips found his in a kiss that tasted like a promise—of a hand to hold, body to warm up to, and a heart that beat for one another. In every life, every universe, and in every space and time—now, and forevermore.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ bonus! ˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

“So, which one finally did it?” You asked him nonchalantly, when you were both freshly washed up, lying on the new, pleasurably chilly sheets, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Too exhausted to raise, too happy to fall asleep after the whole night of making love.

His head on your chest stirred slightly, a confusion slowly overtaking his features.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, but he didn’t find it in himself to raise. His arms holding your body close to his, tightening their hold, a signal he hoped would make you continue the caress of his back with your fingers.

Your skin bared a fragrance of his soap and his skin, and he felt drunk ever since he noticed it.

“The workout outfit a size too small? Or those jeans at the funfair?” You continued, and his mind started to connect the dots. His eyes widened. “I knew that I would be sticking my ass out a lot that day so I made sure they were extra tight.” He heard you giggle and raised his head immediately, his gaze falling on yours.

“You—”

“What? You were making me wait forever! And don’t get me wrong…” You cupped his cheek, and he was rendered speechless. The whole time he was fighting for his sanity, trying to wait for you, restraining himself from taking you on the nearest piece of furniture — You were riling him up on purpose? “I love that you are a gentleman, and the princess treatment is really nice too, but I just couldn’t wait to have you ravish me, you know? Your girl has needs.”

He was going completely insane. He let out a hearty laugh, and shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that he underestimated you again, forgot that your desires and needs matched his almost perfectly.

And he should’ve known that the workout clothes were a bit too revealing for your liking. Fuck, he should’ve known.

“And it seems my girl is a sly little vixen.” His voice laced with humor, a smile still visible, head impossibly light. He hummed, and kissed a smile off of your plump lips, then your neck, shoulders and chest. You started trembling, and the smile he sent you this time made him look as if he was a wolf studying his pray. You gulped audibly. “Well then, if you decided to manipulate me, then I think you are ready to suffer the consequences.” His kisses reached your breasts, and he took one perky nipple into his mouth, sucking passionately. His other hand grabbed at the other boob, kneading the flesh languidly.

“But it’s already bright outside, shouldn’t we—” A press of his finger on your lips hushed you, and his eyes met yours, his lips still circled around your delicate nipple. With a snap of his fingers the curtains covered the windows, cutting of the only source of light. Darkness enveloped you, making the press of his body on yours even more intimate. Your body was still on fire after the hours of tangling in sheets, every part of you sensitive and tingling under his skilled hands.

“Ah, ah. You’re trembling. Why is that, I wonder?” You heard his voice closer to your ear, and when your eyes got used to the darkness, you saw his eyes filled with mirth and something primal. His hands went slowly up your tights, their destination obvious. “I had no idea that my kitten was that starved. Now I can’t possibly leave her unsatisfied, can I?”

You felt his hands touch your warmest spot, and you let fireworks overtake you once more, your spine twisting to get closer to him. He tasted the skin on your chest again, and went down with his kisses, leaving a happy, wet trial in its wake. He raised suddenly, kissing you on the lips.

“And what about the zipper?” He asked absentmindedly into your lips, remembering the situation that nearly made him lose his mind couple of weeks ago.

“What zipper?” Your confusion truthful, your squeal loud when he suddenly plopped motionless on top of you, a sigh of exasperation leaving his mouth.

It seems that loving you was the beginning of his end, after all.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

thank you for your time! ♡ PLEASE let me know if you liked it, i would appreciate every single comment and engagement!!! i would be so happy to read your reactions (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

likes would be much appreciated ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

#❀˖° mochi writes!#lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x you #love and deepspace fic #lads smut #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace #lnds sylus #sylus smut #sylus fluff #sylus qin #sylus #love and deepspace smut #sylus love and deepspace smut #sylus x reader #lads #love and deepspace sylus fic

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jmliebert · 2 months ago

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♡ Halsin Being Love Smitten by an Oblivious Tav ♡

Oh, this is a good one. Halsin — strong, confident, experienced — brought to his knees by one thing he never saw coming: your sheer, unrelenting obliviousness. It’s hard to make him baffled, but you did. You actually made him baffled. Incredible.

He’s lived for over three centuries. Seen countless wonders, taken many lovers, and faced horrors that would break lesser souls. Nothing has caught him off guard for the longest time it would seem. And yet you have. Because somehow, despite his very clear interest, his smoothest moves, and his voice dropping into that deep purr — you simply don’t get it. Not one bit.

And by Oak Father, it really do baffles him.

You see, he feels it every time you walk by — a rush of warmth in his chest, the unshakable need to be near you. He listens to your every word, even your stillest ramblings, with rapt attention, laughing easily and freely in a way he hasn’t in years. It feels good to be close to you. It feels right. And he’s wise enough to know exactly what that means. He is, without doubt, utterly and completely love smitten with you… and Halsin is many things, but shy is not one of them. So naturally — he courts you.

At first, subtly, slowly… intending to take full pleasure from getting to know you better in that kind of way. A lingering touch here, a playful tease there, a deep-chested chuckle whenever you say something endearing. Surely you’ll catch on.

You do not.

You smile at him. You laugh, you listen, you seem happy to be around him. But not once — not once! — you show any sign of realising that he likes you more than a friend. (oh, so much more)

Is he being too subtle? Surely not. Halsin is experienced. He’s seen things. He’s been with partners who could read his desires from a single glance, and here he is — flexing like a fool whenever you so much as glance in his direction, hoping you’ll notice.

And Oak Father help him, he’s trying so hard. It’s like he isn’t himself anymore. He feels like a young pup wandering into unknown territory.

So… he finds excuses to touch you. Offers a steadying hand when crossing a stream (as if you’re not perfectly capable), lets his large hands linger on your waist a fraction too long when lifting you over an obstacle. Getting all worked up from the mere brush of your knees.

One day Halsin brings you fruit he’s foraged with a casual,

"If you desire more, I am always at your service.”

"You really do take good care of everyone," you say, eyes shining with pure, unshaken obliviousness. The words he wants to say—I would much rather focus my care on you specifically—catch in his throat, swallowed down by a sigh. Somehow, faced with your innocence, he just can’t bring himself to say it.

Has he lost his touch? Is he truly so out of practice? He has never worked this hard to make his feelings known. And worse—he’s starting to feel things he hasn’t in years. Frustration, longing, an almost feral urge to just grab you by the shoulders and tell you outright.

By the gods, he is horny and in distress. And he’s been horny many times, but in distress like this? No. However… Halsin is not a man who simply gives up. Not to doubt, not to hesitation—and certainly not when it comes to you. Not when he’s waited lifetimes to feel this way again. Not when he’s finally met someone who stirs the very roots of his being.

So, no more subtlety, no more lingering touches. No more charming lines that you so sweetly misunderstand. One evening, with all the weight of a man on the brink, he levels you with a look, strong arms crossed over his chest, and says in a tone that leaves no room for interpretation:

“Tav. We need to talk. And this time, I’ll make sure you understand exactly what I mean.”

Because by the Oak Father, if you don’t realise how desperately he wants you after this conversation—he might just lose his mind.

So he takes you away—away from the crackling campfire, from the idle chatter of your companions, from the weight of the world pressing down on both of you. He leads you to a quiet, secluded glade where the trees arch overhead like ancient sentinels. The stars shimmer above, casting silver light over everything, but Halsin?

Halsin is radiant.

He stands before you, broad and strong, his golden skin illuminated by moonlight. There’s something different in the way he looks at you now—an intensity, a quiet, unshaken resolve. And then, in a voice deep as the earth itself, he speaks:

"I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine…”

Your breath stutters. Your eyes widen, because suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The lingering touches. The flirtation you had brushed off as simple kindness. The way his gaze always seemed to find you, the way his presence felt like a steady force in your current life, constant and unwavering. It was never just friendliness. It was never just admiration.

It was this.

It was him wanting you.

The weight of his words sinks into you, slow and heavy like honey pouring thick from a jar. He isn’t teasing. He isn’t jesting—Halsin is far too earnest for that. His kindness, his unwavering dedication, have only blurred the truth for you. But now, there is no mistaking it. There’s no lightheartedness in his tone—only intention. Only want.

The words roll off his tongue like a promise, rich with meaning, with want. His voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it—an unmistakable need. His hand lifts, slow, deliberate, as if he’s savouring every second before he touches you. And when he does—when his large, calloused palm finally cups your cheek—your breath catches.

His warmth is immediate, grounding, real. He’s so close now—too close, not close enough. His golden eyes search yours, darkened with something primal, something deep and unspoken. He’s looking for something—truth. An answer. A silent permission for this moment to become something more.

And gods, the air between you is alive with it.

Will you give it to him?

That choice—that power—is yours.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

again, thanks for this lovely request

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡ hihi

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate halsin #bg3 imagine #bg3 halsin imagine #halsin x tav #halsin imagine #halsin headcanons #halsin x you #halsin x oc #halsin x reader #halsin bg3 #halsin silverbough #halsin fluff #bg3 fluff

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lvve-talks · 2 months ago

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WINNER TAKES ALL ·⁀ ༄.°🎾 ₊⭒˚｡⋆

🏸˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ coach!art x reader x tennisplayer!rafe jealous art, age gap (art is mid-late 30s, you and rafe are 20s), voyeurism, art calls rafe "kid" but everyone is adults!!, 18+ mdni it's my birthday!! so nothing better than something incredibly self indulgent for my first real smut (,,>ヮ<,,)!

you're art donaldson’s star student

the brightest star in his sky, damn the sun

he thinks you're an angel come down to earth, flying through the air in those little white pleated skirts

golden, perfect, pure

and then rafe cameron came along

all cockiness and aggression, if his rich parents weren’t paying him so much for private lessons, art would’ve dropped that bastard long ago

rafe had his sights set on you since the very first day he arrived to the court for lessons with art and there you were finishing up your own

little white pleated skirt that showed a glimpse of your underwear every time you jumped to return a ball

he makes sure to talk you up while you’re packing up your things, all dazzling, country club smile

you find him pretty, a little rough around the edges, but you knew the type of guy he was. spoiled rich boy with eyes that looked like they were hiding something

immediately art didn’t approve. watching from across the court with eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching extra tight with each chew of that minty gum in his mouth

art said rafe was a bad influence on you despite him being the one infatuated by his much younger student

at least he was looking out for you. making you better. he could tell just by looking at rafe that he’d only make you worse

he typically tried to keep the two of you apart, keeping your interactions to a minimum, but he saw how you started taking more time to stretch after practice. drawing your lithe limbs above your head and bending extra low whenever rafe arrived for his lesson. lingering. waiting.

and every time he’d see rafe’s eyes on you he’d snap “let’s go, cameron, warm up.” making sure he was occupied with something else

then you suggested he double up your lessons. something about a scrimmage for practice. he said no for weeks as you kept bugging him about it “trust me, he’s nowhere near your level. it’s not going to do a thing for you.”

the day he finally gave in, he regretted it the second he saw rafe’s cocky smile directed right at you from across the net like he had a single chance. he watched you go easy on him for a full set before he told you off for it. “we’re not gonna do this if you’re not gonna play right. what did i tell you about creating bad habits?”

at least he got the satisfaction of watching you take rafe’s ego down a peg after that

but then… god help him.

he was walking by the locker room after practice, towel slung over his neck and racket bag on his shoulder when he heard it. it sounded like you were crying out in pain, and he nearly dropped everything to rush in and help you when he heard what came next. his voice.

“fuckk you’re so fuckin’ tight,” rafe groaned and art froze. he couldn’t move a muscle

he was standing just inside the doorway, unable to see wherever rafe had you pinned up against a row of lockers, just listening. he felt like such a pervert, but he couldn’t leave, not when you sounded like that

every whine and moan sounded like the choir of heaven in his ears, it could almost drown out each disgusting word the other boy was grunting in your ear

“you like this? letting me fuck your brains out where anyone could hear? what if coach heard his perfect angel getting railed like a slut in the locker room?”

he had to make himself leave after that. it was too close. and he was far too hard from hearing the way you cried out even louder at that

after that incident, your lingering after practice stopped altogether. instead, you were rushing off to the locker room. checking your watch every minute for the last ten minutes of your lesson. so much so he had to scold you for it. “you have somewhere to be?”

not only that, but rafe started showing up to his lessons late. swaggering onto the court with mussed hair and red marks half-way hidden under the collar of his polo

it was driving art out of his mind, making him more and more irritable with the kid, making him run extra drills over and over hoping his hands would bleed or something in his shoulder would tear and he wouldn’t be able to touch you like that anymore

it finally got to the point where he had to sit you down at the end of your lesson to have a talk. you were fidgeting in your seat on the bench, your gaze constantly flicking to your watch or back towards the locker rooms. your knee was bouncing so anxiously, he had to reach out and lay his big hand on your thigh to keep it still

“i don’t think rafe is a good influence on you, sweetheart,” says the perv who fists himself every night thinking about the way you sounded on someone else’s cock

you tilt your head in confusion at him, looking like the sweetest little puppy and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from squeezing your leg too tight

“i’m moving your tuesday lessons to mondays,” he finally says with a sigh. no more overlap with rafe. no more lingering, no more running off, all of your time would be his

“what?” you sputter. as long as you’d been with him you’ve had lessons every tuesday, thursday, and friday, and now all of a sudden he thinks he can change things with a snap of his fingers?

“rafe’s taking your spot so he can have the earlier time,” he sighs as if it’s all the rich kid’s fault and not his own selfishness

“why does he get priority?” you scoff. “and what the hell does this have to do with his ‘influence’ on me?”

“well, i know you have the availability on mondays and his parents are paying me a ridiculous amount of money for his slot. and don’t think i don’t see what’s going on here,” he gestures between you and the locker rooms with a flick of his finger

“what? what’s going on here?” you ask accusingly

“you’re ruining your focus on your game for some kid who couldn’t give a fuck about you. i can’t let you do this, sweetheart, you know you’re going places. only place he’s going is the country club,” art scoffs, his patience running thin

but you’ve heard enough, gathering your things and storming off to the locker rooms, leaving art to hang his head in his hands and remind himself that he’s doing the right thing

but this time when rafe’s late to practice, he’s already pissed off. five minutes late turns into fifteen and he can’t take it anymore, storming off the court and towards the locker rooms

he doesn’t bother stopping outside this time, walking right to the back of the room where rafe is busy plowing into you from the back, your hands splayed against the lockers as you’re bent over at the hips

art slams his hand against the hollow metal to catch your attention, both of your heads instantly shooting to the side to look at him with wide, shocked eyes

“what the fuck?” rafe grunts, stilling inside you, but art’s eyes are only on you. even as he says “you’re late.”

but you’ve had enough of his attitude today. the look in your eyes turns defiant as you hold his gaze, pushing your hips back against rafe’s again. “he’s busy.”

rafe grunts and grips your hips tighter, his gaze flicking between the two of you with his brows furrowed in confusion

art rolls his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “like he’s even getting you off like that,” he scoffed and rafe’s face scrunches up in offense, opening his mouth to protest, but then you’re grinding your hips back on him again and all he can do is groan

“how would you know, coach?” you dig at him again, eyes narrowing at him

“i know what pleasuring a woman sounds like,” he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and he knows you’re too competitive to not take it as a challenge

it doesn’t take long for art to have your back pressed up against those lockers, one knee pressed into your chest with his grip on your thigh and his length bullying you open

he drags his hips back slowly before snapping them up into you at an angle that makes you see stars, your nails clawing at his back as you cry out with each thrust

rafe’s watching your fucked out face over art’s shoulder, still almost too stunned by everything to do anything but fist his own cock at the sight

“feel what you were missin’ out on, baby?” art murmurs against your neck as he presses kiss after kiss to your neck, your jaw, your shoulder, wherever his lips could reach. “runnin’ off to let some spoiled kid rut into you instead of staying with me?”

you could hear the possessiveness in his voice and it almost made you feel guilty for all those times you ran out of practice as fast as you could to meet with rafe instead. but then again you probably never would’ve had him fucking you this good without it

“‘m sorry, coach,” you whine in his ear and it makes him let out a low groan, his hips snapping up even harder at that. “fuck, you should be,” he huffs into your ear

his hand that’s not practically holding you up comes down between your bodies to rub at your neglected clit and you’re instantly clenching tighter around him, your head falling back against the locker with a clanging sound drowned out by a near pornographic moan. he curses lowly again at the feeling of you squeezing around him like a vice grip, and he knows you’re close

“c’mon, baby, show rafe what it actually sounds like when you’re cumming all over a cock,” he mutters in your ear and that’s all it takes for you to fall apart

you swear you nearly black out from the pleasure and its only a matter of time before he’s pulling out of you and spilling his own release in thick ropes onto your stomach with a chorus of groans and “fuck”s and “so fucking good”s

after a long moment of nothing but a choir of panting breaths in the air, art turns his head to find rafe still sitting on the bench behind the two of you, his hand and stomach covered in his own cum

“practice is cancelled today,” art huffs at him before he’s turning his attention back to you, lowering your leg back to the ground and practically carrying you back to the showers to get you all cleaned up

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wandixx · 16 days ago

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Phantom, the Young Justice member part 4(-ish, I think) they're unconnected, don't wory

Post TUE, but like, right after

“Recognized: Phantom B-08”

Zatanna and Artemis disengaged from the spar, turning to Zeta-Tubes almost in tandem with the rest of the Team. Wally caught himself preparing to the fight.

There was simultaneously a lot and very little Team knew about Phantom. They knew his favorite constellation, his favorite level in Doomed and his typical fast-food order and which parts were better or worse than Nasty Burger in every fast food place they visited. They didn't know whether he was ghost or meta or something else, they didn't know his non-hero name or if he had one at all.

There were things falling somewhere in between on this spectrum.

But they knew for the fact that he wasn't supposed to come in today and that he didn't use Zeta-Tubes unless situation was really dire. Yet even then it usually required a lot of convincing, as seen during whole Klarion-two-Earths debacle. At some point during it, Wally considered how faster would it be if he just asked Phantom to stack up on high- calory food and run to pick him up instead. In the end he didn't say anything, because ghost agreed, sounding like he was just sentenced to the gallows. Understandable, considering his... everything around portals in general, but especially ones that feel like they're taking someone apart. But! The point was, hearing Zeta-Tube call out Phantom was not normal nor a good sign. Fact that they didn't know what was going on or expecting him was unprecedented.

Wally sprinted out to get fire blanket. They owned actual weighted blanket, carefully washed and [wietrzony] to make sure it wasn’t smelling bad to anyone with enhanced senses, but for some reason fire blanket worked on the ghost the best.

He was back before other boy fully settled against wall of the Zeta-Tube, tugging at his hair like he did when he needed to calm down. It’s not like slowly breathing really did anything for him. Wally wrapped him up, making sure it was tight enough that hands he put down would not have room to do any real damage. It tended to happen when he was like this.

Wally very carefully didn’t think about the fact that Phantom didn’t even have enough energy or presence of mind to leave Zeta-Tube even though it was always first thing he did. Even, or maybe especially, when he forgot where he was for a moment.

Rest of the Team crowded around them, talking soft encouragements, rubbing his back and hair, tapping rhythm for him to… just overall ground him, Zatanna made up some ice too. Phantom seemed to shrink away from they’re touch, as much as he could when they were everywhere. Black Canary sharply told them to back away.

They all took few steps back, because something was really wrong and they weren’t helping but they had to try and–

Light erupted from somewhere under the blanket and traveled up and down Phantom’s body. Everyone, including Black Canary, lunged towards the boy, because what was that? What was that? Was Phantom dying in front of all of them?

Tired blue eyes blinked at them from under the shock of black hair. It was still undeniably Phantom, he stood in the same place and looked the same, except of eyes and hair color and lack of general air of otherness, but-

“My name is Danny Fenton, I'm a halfa, half ghost half human hybrid created in specific lab accident and no matter what, if my family ever dies you can't let Vlad Masters become my legal guardian. Doesn't matter if it means court case, kidnapping or murder,” he rushed out, words tumbling over each other, like he made this little formula and learned it by heart and wanted to get it out before he forgot any part of it.

Everyone just… froze for a moment.

And then Phantom started hyperventilating, swaying were he stood, so they jumped back to action, dragging him out of machine and onto some chair M’gann moved in. Black Canary ran him through breathing exercise (Phantom was breathing, Phantom was breathing, Phantom was breathing and it was so wrong Wally felt hair standing on the back of his neck). With mutual effort from Robin, Kaldur and Zatanna, there was a bag of ice in ghost’s (halfa’s?) hands, to help ground him. Artemis tapped on his shoulder in tandem with Canary’s instructions, while Conner run off somewhere. There was fifty/fifty chance he went to get something or just needed to get away. M’gann flew away muttering something about making a tea.

Wally felt really lost but also overwhelmed by the need to do something, so he tried singing (or humming, at least) some songs that you’re supposed to play when resuscitating someone. Then it hit him, that it felt too fast, maybe because his main thing was being fast and he was a bit too wrung out to focus on being slower, maybe because song itself was too fast, he didn’t know. He sang something slower anyway.

He could almost see the moment when Phantom, or Danny, he said his name was Danny, calmed down enough to understand where he was.

“Hello Danny”

The boy slumped a bit and refused to make eye contact with anyone.

“Hi Black Canary”

“Are you quite alright?”

“Who is attacking?” Wally blurted out without really thinking. They needed to know and, honestly, he was known to be the guy who never thought before he spoke.

Pha-nny whipped to look at him, visibly startled, which was not a good look considering he wasn't really epitome of calm even before.

“No one I know about, why would they?” he asked, sounding way too clueless about it.

“You used very quick mode of transportation, that is also really triggering to you,” Kaldur explained patiently, “one that you usually only travel through in case of emergencies—”

“And had panic attack as soon as you showed up which had not happened after first three times, meaning you were already pretty shaken before going in,” Robin interrupted.

“We want to know happened to make you use it this time?”

There was another slow blink.

“No one is attacking anymore. I won. I won. I saved them. I won,” he said, descending into panicked mutter. Black Canary motioned them to move away again, because clearly, crowd was not helping him.

“Hey, breathing is constant demand, don't forget about it,” Artemis snapped.

“Who did you win with? Who did you save?”

Phantom just glanced at Black Canary and got back to staring into middle distance, technically present in mind and body but clearly not fully. Wally didn’t want to know what horrors made him crash so hard. There were few things that could make him stop joking, even less that could do this.

“Would you…” Phantom whispered and then his breath hitched. Ghost just stared at all of them for a moment, jumping from person to person like terrified rabbit, wide eyed and terrified. Something glass or ceramic shattered behind them.

“Oh, Danny”

“M’gann what’s going on?”

“We’re alive Danny,” she said with conviction surprisingly strong with how soft she sounded before “We’re alive and well and whatever you saw or think you saw, it was a lie. We’re alive and well”

“But-”

“He didn’t kill us”

Artemis pushed her way back to the ghost and shook him by his shoulders.

“What happened, Phantom?”

Phantom or well, Danny, looked through her like he was once again recalling something, that shouldn't be in his mind to be recalled.

And then he explained future that won’t happen, with sauce explosions, dead families and court of talking eyes.

And then he made them promise. Wally doubted any of them would be able to keep it, and everyone knew that, but they promised either way.

#I have really mixed feelings about this #but I don't think I can do better right now and still wanted it out of my system #yes I know B-08 is Zatanna's designations #but after Conner's B-04 it's about order of introduction to the Team #and for the purpose of the story I decided to get him after Artemis but before Zatanna #anyway when (if) I ever write my YJ with Danny fic reveal will be something along those lines #post TUE feels like cool place to place it I think #anyway #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #wandixx writes #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

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meracyn · 6 months ago

Note

hiii tysm for doing my req!!! mochi anon btw <33 i was trying to send an ask a few days ago but it wouldnt send thru so i hope it does this time 😭 can you write shuichi crush hcs? all fluffy fluff fluff (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) thank youuuuuuuuu

୨୧ adoration ! ⋆

synopsis oh no. the ultimate detective has a crush!? or no- it isn’t..totally not. right? warnings cursing, a bit suggestive (miu + jokes) author’s notes HI LOVELYYYY THANK YOUUU for requesting again!!! and yes yes OFC I CANN these are so cute<3

GUYS HES A MF FIRETRUCK WITH HOW RED HIS FACE GETS ESPECIALLY SINCE HES PALE ASF IM CRYING

ok now back to being professional, my bad chat

at first, shuichi would probably not realize how he feels—or maybe he does, but tries to deny it. can he actually call it..love? he needs to be sure first, he’s afraid of anything bad happening, or he’s confusing this feeling with another emotion

thinks a lot about it. remembers days such as the day you two met and becoming friends, when all of a sudden his mind wanders off to how it would feel like to hold you in his arms, whisper sweet affirmations in your ear as you stir awake, to kissing you—

wait what? kissing!? boy does his entire face turn red as he’s shocked that his own mind thought of such thing. shuichi breathes a sigh of relief though, knowing that you aren’t near him at the moment, or else it could’ve gotten worse..

tends to stare at you more, paying attention to your small habits and body language, during his (unknowingly) lovesick phase shuichi becomes eager to learn more about you– thinking of ways to court you as you deserve. should he look for help online or ask his friends? somehow, he chose the latter.

“just ask to hook up and once you’re bangin’, say it with pride!” — miu advised while laughing

“i don’t know. why did you ask me?” — with a deadpanned expression, maki said

after asking more around (that’s a lie, he got too embarrassed to ask others and went straight to his bro, his last hope) kaito was the only one who had a good idea. what was it?

“you don’t need to do anything big to impress them, shuichi. talk to y/n and ask them out on a date, if you can’t say it out loud, write it on a note and put it in their locker, if they agree, make sure they have a good time and bam! confess”

aka the ultimate yapper

it takes him a while to gather the courage to ask you out, but shuichi has no rush—he’s content with just having this little (massive. that’s what she said) crush on you. he’s the type to giggle n shit if you ever compliment him or just pay attention to him in general

writes down notes about you– with things he wishes to say one day

#danganronpa v3 #shuichi saihara #shuichi saihara x gn! reader #shuichi saihara x female reader #shuichi saihara x reader #shuichi saihara x male reader #fluff #danganronpa #headcannons #hes so cute #meracyn

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traveler-at-heart · 2 months ago

Text

Love is a winning serve

Sequel to Game, Set, Match that was on my drafts and just decided to post lol.

Tennis player Natasha Romanoff x F!R

The grass is always greener at the start of the season.

No matter how many times you step in, Wimbledon always takes your breath away. The view is especially magnificent today, as your eyes follow the figure of your girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff.

Fury grumbles next to you.

“Is there a problem?”

“She’s down! 3 games to lob on the first set. Why are you not freaking out right now?” the man whisper yells and Melina glares, shushing him.

“She’s bored” you say after she loses the fourth game.

“What did you just say?”

“Natasha’s bored. She won Roland Garros 6-0, 6-1, so she wants to make this at least a bit entertaining”

“Well, could she possibly play sudoku or something else to combat this boredom? If I wasn’t bald already I’d be losing my hair from the stress”

After the break, and as you suspected, Natasha wins three games in a row. You admire her graceful movements as she sprints across the court. She’s wearing all white, as tradition requires. Such a shame that her team opted for a polo shirt. Yes, she looks elegant, but you’d rather see those toned arm muscles as she exerts herself.

“Fuck”

Natasha’s outburst and the crowd’s gasp break your train of thought.

“Are you kidding me? That ball was so in” she challenges the call.

“That’s the rule” umpire Steve Rogers, aka Mister Manners, says.

“That’s bullshit”

“Ms. Romanoff, language!” he says, truly shocked. You’re amused, because Natasha can do so much worse than that.

So much dirtier…

“Stop it” Yelena elbows you.

“Stop what?”

“Looking like you’re ready to throw your panties to the court”

“If that keeps the press from asking about her little outburst, be my guest” Fury sighs.

But you’re already on it.

After throwing her racket across the court, Natasha has to go the extra mile to win 7-5 on the first set. Throughout the rest of the match, you make sure your left hand is showing the big diamond ring Natasha gave you.

“You’re already trending on Twitter” Yelena says, amazed. “Thank God you’re on our side, evil genius”

Natasha wins the second set easily, and is saved from the court interview by the English rain.

“Nice. The tennis part, not the tantrum in the middle of the game” Fury says.

“Come on, the umpire was being an idiot. How long do I have before the press conference?”

“20 minutes, give or take. Don’t worry, they’ll be nice to you”

You show the ring and she nods.

It all started as an honest mistake. Yes, Natasha had given you this particular ring as a present, and yes you’d wore it in public. But the speculation of an engagement was enough to boost her public persona, so you ran with it.

“You know, when I get you an actual engagement ring, it will be huge” she says, pulling you closer to kiss you.

“I don’t have a preference on that regard, Miss Romanoff” you smile against her lips.

“Really? I was under the impression you liked how big my stra…”

“Aaaah! Stop. I should have stayed in New York!” Yelena says, leaving the locker room in a rush.

—

“Have you set a date?” is the first thing a journalist asks during the press conference.

“Date for what, David?” Natasha plays dumb.

“We’ve all seen the huge diamond ring on Y/N's finger. Or maybe you’re planning on getting married right in the middle of the court once you reach the Golden Slam”

“No comment” Natasha says, holding back laughter.

—

It’s been two years since the start of your relationship with Natasha. Once it became clear that you were both committed to making it work, you quit your job and joined her team, as PR manager/mediator when Fury and Natasha were butting heads.

At first, you were worried that I’d be too weird to work with Natasha, but she valued your input and trusted you. Two things she had never found in anyone else aside from her family and Fury.

The fact she had won 3 grand slams last year and was on route to completing the golden calendar this year was a testament to how good you were as a team.

Knowing her after match routine, you figure there’s some time to catch up with Bucky’s first round match. He gets the job done in straight sets, and you wait for his interview to be over.

“Hey, defending champion” you say, looping your arm around his. He smiles.

“Hi, coach Y/L/N”

“Glad to see umpire Jarvis wasn’t a total asshole to you this time” you mutter, looking around as a couple of kids approach Bucky for autographs.

“Might be too busy with all the Maximoff drama”

“Oh?”

Though Wanda had stopped trying to mess with Natasha since you two became public, you were always on edge when it came to her. It couldn’t hurt to have any extra intel on Maximoff.

“Word on the street is that they broke up” Bucky lowers his voice, placing his hand on your back. “You didn’t hear it from me”

“My lips are sealed”

“Hopefully not for food. I’m starving”

“Lunch on me, champ”

—

“I’m home” you joke as usual, stepping foot on the hotel suite. That had been the hardest part of your new life.

You didn’t spend more than two weeks in the same country, and being alone with Natasha was a rare ocurrence.

There were times when you missed your couch and the Indian food from around the corner of your apartment.

The sight that greets you is enough to make up for it.

Natasha is stretching in nothing but leggins and a sports bra, her perfect ass on full display as she bends over in a complicated yoga stance.

“Now that’s a champion’s ass” you whistle.

The redhead smiles and straightens, raising her arms above her head. You take the opportunity to wrap your arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “Where’s everybody?”

“They went to get some food”

“Perfect timing” you whisper against her skin, enjoying the soft smell of lavender. Your hands wander all the way down to her ass and slap playfully.

“You know the rule” Natasha warns, but still melts against your touch.

You huff, annoyed. Stupid, stupid rule. No sex during tournaments.

“I have to wait two more weeks to taste you? How is that fair, baby?”

“Don’t I make it up to you everytime?”

“Let me just…” you kneel hugging her hips and placing kisses on the small of her back. “I’ll take care of everything. Just bend over and spread those pretty legs for me”

“Y/N…” you can tell by her tone she’s ready to give in and you smile.

“Hope you are all starving… ah! AGAIN! I quit” Yelena shouts as she walks in on you.

“Step away, Y/N” Fury warns as you stand up and whimper pathetically against Natasha’s shoulder. “Go take a cold shower.”

“Not fair” you cry out. Natasha chuckles, leaning forward and kissing your neck. A blush spreads as you imagine her lips in other parts of your body. “Really not fair”

—

It wouldn’t be Wimbledon without a rain delay. Considering Nat lost the second set against Danvers, a little break might be good for her.

As you wait for the weather to improve, you keep looking at your calendar and the meeting that no one knows about. Of course it has to happen the minute the match resumes.

“I’ll be right there” you promise, knowing it will be a quick call anyway.

“Ramonda speaking” the voice on the other end greets. She knows it’s you, but still makes you introduce yourself. You expect nothing else from the head of the WTA. “Have you thought about my proposal?”

“It’s very generous… but I’m afraid I’ll have to reject it”

Head of Communications for the Women’s Tennis Association. Being on the citcuit for two years had put you on the map, beyond your wildest expectations.

But you would never leave Natasha. You are a team.

“You’ll still be able to see your girlfriend, if that’s what you’re worried about” the woman says, with a certain condescention in her voice.

“Like I said… it’s very generous. But I am where I need to be. Thank you, Ramonda”

There’s a pause and you wonder if the woman will call you a fool and hang up.

“Look, our current director is leaving at the end of the USO anyway. We’ll hire a consultig firm for a bit, and I hope you’ve had more time to think about this”

“Alright”

Your answer will be the same, but right now you need to go back to the game. Ramonda says her goodbyes and promises to send a better offer by the end of the month.

It makes you dizzy, to think that a local news reporter like yourself could ever do such a huge job.

“You look a little pale” a voice with a thick Russian accent says as you leave the locker room.

It takes you a moment to recognise it.

“Alexei”

“Surprised to see me?”

“Well, yes. Considering you’re banned from the club” you hope that he’ll take offense and end the conversation. But the man laughs, showing his gold teeth.

“I still have my connections”

“Natasha is not here”

“I’m not here to see her. Not right now, at least”

“Then what do you want?”

Alexei sighs, sitting in a bench and looking at you with a phony smile. He looks so much older, and nothing like the man that would get entire stadiums to cheer for him.

“You know I taught her how to hold a racket? How to throw a ball? She was serving before she knew how to write her name”

“Sorry, I don’t have time for this sentimental daddy of the year bullshit”

“I want her back” he explodes, standing up and blocking the exit. You look up, aware that he’s a lot taller than you.

He’s scaring the shit out of you and you hate him for it.

“She listens to you. Put on a good word for me. And then, she’ll come to her senses. That’s how Natalia is, she always needs a little guidance”

“If you go back to coaching her, it would be the worst mistake of her career. So, no. Now move. I have a match to get to”

Alexei punches one of the lockers and you try not to jump at the sound.

“I’ll make sure you regret this”

All you can feel is your heart beating out of your chest. What can you do to escape this situation?

“You better leave now, jackass” Bucky steps out of nowhere, shielding you with his body. “Security is on their way”

The man grumbles, exiting the room. You sigh with relief, allowing Bucky to hold you for a second.

“You ok?”

“Yes. Thank you, Buck”

“Natasha has to know about this. He could be dangerous”

“I don’t want to worry her. It will be fine” you dismiss his concerns quickly, but he looks annoyed “I’ll tell Fury, that should be enough. You have a match to prepare for, I’ll leave now”

Despite his protests, you walk out of the room, heading to the player’s box without paying attention to anything.

“Y/N?” Fury insists when you’re seated and you finally snap back to reality.

“What?”

“Did you two fight? Because she’s about to lose the match and you look like you’ve seen a ghost”

“What do you mean she’s about to lose?” you look up, noticing Natasha is two games down.

Well, shit.

“No, we are not fighting. And the reason I look like I might pass out is because Alexei was here”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you about it later” you say, watching as Danvers prepares to serve.

This eighth game isn’t any better.

One point and that’s it for Natasha.

“She’s gonna pull through” you say, hopeful.

And miraculously, she does. The redhead saves three match points, wins a couple of games and forces a tiebreak.

You sigh with relief as the umpire speaks those magic words.

“Game, set, match, Romanoff”

Little did you know, this wouldn’t be the last bump on the road.

—-

A questionable reputation

The world of tennis knows her as a devout girlfriend, strategist and PR manager to her partner of two years, Natasha Romanoff.

And yet, we know very little of Y/N Y/L/N as she seeks to share some of Romanoff’s record breaking glory.

An insider has shared that they met two years ago during the USO, when the Russian player was having one of the worst seasons of her career.

The public perception has been that Y/L/N contributed to Romanoff’s success, but recent information has put that into question.

As it stands, Miss Y/L/N has a habit of blurring the lines of professional and personal relationships. She has been tied romantically to Yankees’ superstar Sam Wilson and current ATP number one Bucky Barnes.

It seems as if the loving girlfriend is actually a calculated gold digger, and Romanoff might be the next target in her long list of infamous conquests.

—

Well, shit.

Not only did Alexei drag your name (and career) through the mud, but he also managed to put Sam and Bucky in a PR nightmare of their own.

You severely underestimated him.

What a time to post the article. Natasha is about to make her way to the quarterfinals, which means the press conference will definitely include some questions about her “gold digger girlfriend”

A tear rolls down and you try to keep it together, but it feels like the world is on your shoulders.

Your phone pulls you out of the miserable thoughts, but your stomach drops again when you see the name on the screen.

“Yes?” you greet, wiping more tears from your face.

“Alexei is after you” Ramonda drops the bomb without so much as a greeting and you laugh.

“No shit”

“You knew” the woman says, confused.

“He asked me to convince Natasha to take him back as trainer. You can imagine what my answer was”

“I see. He called me too, you know? I don’t understand what he was expecting to get out of it. Alexei’s not a friend of the WTA. He suggested someone else for the job we’re offering you, which is frankly unbelievable. I wanted to call you and let you know that he’s cashing in the few favors he has left to bring you down”

“What would you do in my place, Ramonda?” you pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming.

“I’d give him hell”

The playful tone makes you laugh.

“I got nothing to lose, right?”

“Good luck, Y/N”

She hangs up the phone, but the conversation keeps playing in your head.

You may have underestimated Alexei, but he doesn’t understand one thing. As a team, Natasha and you are fucking unstoppable.

So, you take a deep breath, stand up, and go look for your partner.

—

The post match routine is the same as usual. The only thing missing is you.

“She’ll be right here” Fury says, nodding as Melina checks Natasha’s leg, where she felt a cramp.

“Pickle juice” Melina reminds her daughter and she rolls her eyes.

“But it’s so gross, Mama”

“Gross, but effective”

While they wait for you, Natasha walks to the bathroom. The first thing she hears upon entering is someone puking their guts out.

“You ok?” she asks, not knowing who was there.

A beat of silence and then a voice that she knows all too well.

“I’m fine”

Wanda.

“You never threw up before a match. Are you nervous?” the Russians tries to joke while she washes her hands, but stops when Wanda exits the bathroom stall looking half dead. “Jesus! What happened?”

“It’s nothing. Morning sickness” Wanda answers, too tired to care about keeping her pregnancy a secret anymore.

“Oh. Congratulations” Natasha says in an even tone.

“You sound more excited than Jarvis” Wanda says, splashing some water in her face. “Says he’s not ready to committ after two years. What am I supposed to do with twins by myself?”

“Twins?”

Wanda is about to speak when she throws up in the sink once again.

“Here. Let me just…” Natasha rushes to her side, offering some paper towels and craddling Wanda’s face between her hands as she cleans her mouth.

“I’ve missed you”

“I…”

Natasha places a strand of auburn hair back in her place out of pure habit. This is the closest she’s been to Wanda in years, outside of the court.

Her heart aches over Wanda, how terrified and alone she looks.

The redhead is about to say something else when the door opens.

“Oh”

Natasha turns around, her hands dropping immediately to her sides.

“Y/N…”

“Don’t” is all you say as you leave, not looking back.

You’ve seen enough.

—

It was wise to keep some things to yourself. Like this little bar downtown, where Natasha would never think of looking for you.

She must be going crazy, considering your phone is off and the last time you saw her she looked ready to kiss her crazy ex.

Bucky said Wanda and Jarvis broke up.

So, maybe this whole time you were just a distraction. And now, with the article and Wanda being single again…

No. Natasha would never do this to you.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having. Plus another one for her” someone says behind you.

“Carol” you turn, smiling at the woman. She squeezes your shoulder, taking a seat on the bar stool next to yours.

“I thought you’d be preparing for the next round”

“Nah. Gold diggers don’t work, we just cash” you joke but she doesn’t laugh.

“That article was bullshit. Everyone who has ever worked with you knows that. And if Natasha believed it, you’re better off without her”

“I don’t know if she believed it. I left after I saw her with someone…” you sigh, taking a drink from the new glass the bartender brings over.

How you wish you could erase that memory of Natasha and Wanda.

“I thought her and Maximoff had called it quits” Carol says, shocking you. “What? They weren’t as sneaky as they thought. The rest of us didn’t care enough to mention it”

“Wow”

You sit in silence, drinking and looking out the window. It’s gonna rain again.

“If I had known…” Carol starts, but just shakes her head. You encourage her with a nudge of your elbow. “I would have asked you out. But Natasha had to beat me to that as well. As she does with everything”

“Oh, come on” you say shyly, biting the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know, in the court I’m pretty good at fighting Natasha. Maybe I can give it a try off it”

“I wouldn’t recommend it” you smile, looking over at the menu as a way to change the subject. “You got me a drink, I’ll get you a cheeseburger. How about that?”

“Deal”

—

By the time you go back to the hotel, the rain is pouring. Carol was staying very close to the bar where you had dinner, so she lent you her jacket to keep you dry during the ride home.

You’re walking down the hallway, when the door to your room opens.

If looks could kill…

“Where the hell have you been?” Natasha says through gritted teeth.

You were expecting an apology, not a scolding.

“Out” you walk to the room, eager to change into some dry clothes.

“Yeah? Danvers is your new target, or what?”

Your blood runs cold. Hell, you’re even sure Natasha regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth.

But she still won’t apologize.

She just stares and that pisses you off.

“Excuse me? Say that one more fucking time, Natasha”

“What do you want me to think? There’s that stupid article going around and just now, someone takes pictures of you hugging Danvers in the rain. It’s all over social media”

“She was helping me with her jacket, Natasha. But, while we are on the subject, how is Wanda? As charming and batshit crazy as usual?”

“That’s different” Natasha scoffs and you laugh.

“You are unbelievable. Truly. One of a kind” you go back to looking for clothes, praying the hotel has a spare room you can book.

“It’s not what it seems. She was going through a rough… just trust me, ok?”

“What? Is it her break up?”

“I don’t have to tell you everything” Natasha says, and you feel like crying.

You threw your life out the window for someone who was waiting for the one that got away.

“Yeah, you’re right. You absolutely don’t have to tell me anything”

“I don’t need this right now, Y/N. Think whatever you want”

She walks out, slamming the door behind her.

Everything you believed in has fallen apart.

—-

It was supposed to be an important day. However, your phone has been off since the day you got on a red eye back to New York City.

Bucky is the only person you talk to through video call using your old computer. He’s so pissed off that he easily agreed to not bring up Natasha at all.

So, Saturday comes and you have no idea if she reached the Wimbledon final or not. You stay in your living room all morning and afternoon, watching a medical drama.

Your heart is so broken, and the last time you felt this kind of pain was after losing your father.

At some point, you’ll have to start thinkig about getting a job. There’s no way in hell you’ll take Ramonda’s offer, because it would mean working with Natasha at some point.

For now, staying in your couch while you wait for your food to be delivered is enough.

“Finally” you mutter, standing up to walk to the door. You open without looking who’s on the other side.

“Hi”

Natasha is standing in the middle of the hallway. You look at the containers she’s holding and realised she hijacked your order.

“That’s mine”

“Can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about”

“Yes, there is”

“No, there isn’t” you reach for the food and she steps back. “Seriously? Fine, I’ll eat leftovers. Whatever”

You begin to close the door, but Natasha stops it with her hand.

“I’m sorry”

“What for, Natasha?” you say, but she doesn’t answer. “For not explaining whatever that was with Wanda? For impliying I was cheating on you with Carol? Or for stealing my fucking food?”

There’s no answer.

“Everything you just said. And for not protecting you from Alexei. Fury told me everything. Barnes provided some extra context in a very loud voice too”

You want to laugh at the idea of your best friend yelling at Natasha. He’d been waiting to do it for so long. It’s apparent that Natasha has no intention of leaving so you walk away, leaving the door wide open.

The redhead takes the hint and goes inside, closing the door behind her.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“There was some food on the plane”

“Wait, what?”

“I… won Wimbledon”

“Congratulations” you say without a hint of excitement.

“And when I looked to my box, you weren’t there. I didn’t even climb to hug anyone. I got through the ceremony, then went to the airport and on a plane here”

“Natasha, are you insane?” you go back to work mode immediately after hearing how stupid she’s acting. “You know you have to stick around for the interviews, the pictures, the dinner. The press is gonna have a field day speculating…”

“I don’t care”

“I do. We are getting you back on a plane to London. Not to mention the Olympics are in two weeks on a completely different surface. You should be training”

There is absolutely no way in hell that Natasha will miss the milestone of her career because of you. You find your phone tucked away in your travel bag and plug it, ready to call Fury and make a plan.

“Y/N, I’m not going back unless you come with me” Natasha walks to your room, leaning against the door.

“I- I can’t. Not now, Natasha” you look away, tears rolling down your cheeks. “You should go”

“Ok”

She agrees so easily to let you go, or so you think until she speaks again.

“I’ll be back to get you some breakfast”

“What?”

“I’m going to a hotel. I meant what I said earlier. The only way I’m going back is if I can fix the mess I made”

Natasha lingers for a second and you sigh.

“Use the guest room” you give in, turning to cut off her thank you. “Just for tonight. One way or another, I’m making sure you go back to London”

—

The call with Fury takes an unexpected turn.

“What do you mean you don’t want her back?”

“This past week was hell for all of us. Did you see how hard she was hitting the balls? I almost thought she’d break them in half mid play”

“So what? She’s so close, Nick. We have to help her to the finish line” you plead. Just two more things and she’ll become a legend. That’s the way it was always supposed to be.

“Don’t tell me you’ll be the one to put the sport above your relationship. I thought it was all Natasha’s doing”

No, it wasn’t all Natasha’s doing. This past week has been eye opening for you.

You gave up your life to follow her, you decided to become her rock. She didn’t ask for anything, and even when she crossed a line, being too focused on the game to check on you, your immediate reaction was to minimize your needs. In your mind, Natasha came first because she was extraordinary; a once in a lifetime talent.

But what about you?

“You still there?” Fury says, making you snap out of it.

“Yeah. Just thinking”

“Listen. If she doesn’t want to come back, no one’s going to force her. I think you know better than anyone that nothing can change Natasha’s mind. Well, only one person can”

“Who?” you think about Melina or Yelena. They can talk some sense to her.

“You” Fury says before hanging up.

Well, that won’t do. You’re done telling her what to do, or when. She’s a big girl and she can handle herself.

“How’s Fury?” she says as soon as you walk out of your room.

“He wants you on the next flight to Paris” you lie to her, but she laughs.

Of course she knows better.

“If you want me out of your place, just say the word and I’ll find a hotel. But I’m not leaving until I fix this. Hey, are you listening to me?”

“There’s a seat available for tonight’s flight” you ignore her, pulling out your credit card to buy her a ticket.

“Stop it!” she protests, snatching the card from your hands.

“Natasha, give it back. You need to practice before the Olympics”

“Why are you so worried? Clay is my best surface” she argues and you take the bait.

“Your best surface is grass but stats don’t reflect that because there’s like two championships! Why am I even arguing with you?”

“I don’t care about any medals if you’re not there” she insists, going after you as you pick up a basket of laundry and walk to the bedroom.

“Really? You’re fine with Maximoff taking it from you? The one thing missing in your career? Olympic gold. Boy, she must have done a number on you on that bathroom, huh?” you say bitterly, trying to shut the door, but Natasha pushes inside.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw how close you were. Her hands on your waist, yours on her face. Fine, be with her, I don’t give a shit”

“It looks like you do” Natasha tries to joke when you throw the clothes on the bed. “And Wanda’s not competing. She’s pregnant”

“Congratulations” you smirk, walking out of the room. Natasha stays annoyingly close and you’re aware of how small your apartment really is when you keep moving but there’s absolutely no way of putting distance between you two.

“Ok, now you’re just being an ass. You don’t believe I want to be with her”

You laugh, but it comes out as a sob. Natasha’s smile fades, and she tries to inch closer to touch you, but you step back. She doesn’t push it this time.

“You’re the one who was quick to assume I was flirting with Carol. The one that believed the article. It hurt, Natasha. Especially because I quit my job and my life to be with you”

Your words are met with silence. Not even an apology. Great.

“Wait” she says a second later when you’re opening the door to leave.

“Don’t. I need to be alone”

Luckily, she listens to you.

As you walk down the street to get some food (because yes, you’ll stress eat like you always do), Fury’s words come back.

You could change her mind.

But you don’t want to. She’s a grown woman, a professional athlete with a career to think about. If she wants to throw it all away, that’s fine.

That’s not your problem anymore.

“Hey, Y/N” Pat greets as you enter your favorite diner. “Shouldn’t you be at the Olympics?”

Since you left to travel with Natasha, there’s always a tennis tournament on their television. Apparently it’s a big deal for everyone when the camera pans to the player’s box and you’re there.

“Ah, I had to come back for a bit, I don’t think I’ll make it to Paris” you say, trying to avoid the topic.

“Is that why you weren’t at the Wimbledon game either?” the woman says with a frown and your eyes widen. “It was all the commentators were talking about, sweetheart. They said it was a miracle she won. You didn’t watch it?”

“Nope”

“Well” she turns to the screen and shushes a customer complaining about watching baseball. “There. Watch for a bit while I get you some food”

“Pat, it’s scary how much you know me” you smile in spite of yourself.

It’s a though watch. Natasha lost the first set and barely managed to get the second one in a tiebreak. You notice how she kept looking at the player’s box, and then shaking her head, muttering to herself.

Pat gets you a chesseburger, shaking her head at the way in which your eyes are glued to the screen.

During the break before the third set, she sat looking defeated, and you notice she was running her hands up and down her left arm.

Of course.

It’s the spot where you always write something or put on a smiley face before a match. A spot only she can see.

Even if you already know the result of the match, you cheer when she wins. Natasha doesn’t. It looks like she couldn’t care less about winning, she won’t even go to her box.

“Quite the watch, huh?”

“Yeah. It was… very stressful. I would have shouted at her if I had been there”

“Like your dad during the NBA playoffs?” Pat jokes and you laugh.

“Yeah. Would have gotten banned too”

“Here. Take this back to her. Sleep it off” she says, handing you a package with a burger. You nod, smiling when she tells you to go back home.

You’re walking back when the rain starts.

“Come on” you protest. To your surprise, Natasha meets you halfway there, holding an umbrella.

“Pat called me” she explains when you inch closer, feeling thankful as she shields you from the cold drops. “Come on, let’s go home”

Natasha places her hand around your waist, and even if it is only to keep you under the small umbrella, it makes your heart beat faster.

Once you’re back in the apartment, she places the umbrella in the hallway.

“I’ll get us some towels. Sorry, your food got wet”

“It’s ok” she smiles, taking the bag.

You go back to your room, getting rid of your wet clothes, and searching for a couple of towels among the mess you left earlier.

“Sorry, I should have knocked” Natasha says, but is unable to keep her eyes away from you.

“It’s ok” your voice shakes.

It feels like a small gift from fate. You’re never completely alone, you’re always thinking about the next tournament. But now, it’s just you and Natasha, and the rain drowning out the rest of the world.

She approaches you first, pulling you by the waist until you lean your head on her shoulder.

“You’re cold” she says against your temple.

“Let’s take a shower” you say, surprising her.

It also takes you by surprise, considering how pissed you were. Considering she hasn’t said she’s sorry.

But it feels like it’s been forever since she’s been yours and no one else’s. Your Natasha, not the tennis legend, the number one in the world.

No one can have her, not like you do.

“Ok” she nods after a second, allowing you to lead her by the hand. It’s a small shower, and definitely not as fancy as the ones in those hotels you stay at.

You laugh and giggle as you struggle to fit inside, and Natasha reaches behind you to get the water running.

“Nat!” you shriek when the cold water hits you. “It’s the other one”

“I always forget your shower’s messed up” she apologizes, and you push against her to run away from the stream. “Not that I’m complaining” she adds when you invade what little personal space is left in the shower.

Before you can protest further, she kisses you, slowly at first and then with more urgency.

“Feeling warmer?” she teases against your lips and you smile.

“Very much so”

Her hands travel to your waist, one trailing lower until her fingers are circling your clit.

“Nat” you sigh against her skin. She teases your entrance, and takes her time playing with your clit. It isn’t the friction that makes you come, it’s the soft kiss she places against your ear as you keep moaning.

“It’s ok, let go, baby. I got you”

And as you ride out your orgasm, digging your nails in her back, you feel complete again.

—

The sounds of the city wake you up. As you open your eyes and look up, Natasha is already awake, admiring you.

“Morning, detka”

“Were you watching me sleep like a weirdo?” you grumble, sinking further in her arms.

“I missed this view. Thought I’d never get it again”

You don’t say anything, and stay in her arms until your stomach protests.

“I’m making you pancakes” Natasha says, kissing your temple and leaving the bed.

Even if you want to stay in bed, you follow her to the kitchen and watch as she gets everythig she needs for breakfast.

“I’m surprised you have anything at all”

“Did some shopping the day I got here” you comment, and she nods, trying to act unfazed.

Natasha cooks in silence, and as she places a plate in front of you, kisses your temple.

“Can I say something?” Natasha asks after a beat of silence. You nod, bracing yourself for the worst. “For the last two years, you’ve done what I wanted. I never ask you what you want or need. So, today I want you to tell me what do you want me to do”

“I want you to go and win the gold medal” you answer.

“Will you come with me?”

“I have to stay here… think about what I want” you say. “Natasha, I love you but my life has been all about tennis for the past two years. And I did it because I love you and we’re a great team… but if you were to break up with me tomorrow, you’d still have your career. And what about me?”

“Look, you’re right. We make a great team. But you need to tell me things too. If I had known Alexei was threteaning you, I would have handled everything”

“I didn’t want to worry you” you say, looking away.

“You’re my biggest concern. My reason to do this” Natasha says, holding you by the chin. “I’m sorry I made you doubt it, detka”

You lean forward, kissing her. After a few moments in her arms, you take a deep breath.

“In the spirit of transparency… Ramonda offered me a job as Head of Communications of the WTA”

“What? That’s amazing! When do you start?”

“I haven’t accepted the offer. If I do, I won’t be able to be with you all the time, Nat” you smile sadly, knowing you couldn’t do that to her.

“If that’s what you want to do, I’ll support you” she says.

“Not sure yet. And anyway, with everything that happened the offer might be rescinded”

You eat in silence for a moment, thinking about the things you discussed with Natasha.

“I guess I’ll take the next flight to Paris”

“Call Stark, ask for the jet. It will be faster” you roll your eyes, knowing Natasha hates talking to the former professional turned business man.

“Pass”

“You’re so stubborn” you complain, and she kisses your cheek, taking your plate to wash it.

“So, any advice when I move back to clay?”

“Patience is rewarded. Agression is not” you say, the same way your father always told you when watching those tournaments.

“Agression is my thing” Natasha grumbles.

“I know. Which is why clay is not your best surface”

“I know” she smiles, walking back and carrying you to the bedroom. “Now, let’s do some cardio. Just so I can get back into shape”

—

“Passport? Money? Your special socks?” you check as Natasha goes over her small suitcase.

“Baby, I didn’t bring a lot with me. I didn’t even shower after the game. It’s fine” she says, walking to the door.

Natasha hesitates before reaching for the doorknob, turning to look at you. You frown, arms crossed as you try to figure out what she’s thinking.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do it” she sighs, reaching for her pocket and pulling out a small box. You gasp. “But I realise that this place feels like home. Because you’re here. I know we go to all these amazing locations and I could set up a romantic dinner or a huge show, anything to impress you. Hell, I even had it with me at every final this year, thinking I might propose after winning”

“Nat…”

“I know, you would hate that” she smiles, placing the box in your hand and looking at you. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If it is here, while you work and I become a personal trainer for wealthy, senile people, so be it”

“Oh, that would be fun to watch” you chuckle.

“You don’t have to answer yet. But know that I love you, and I’ll do anything to prove how much I want this. And apparently that includes winning a gold medal”

“I… I’ll think about it. Call me when you land?” you ask, taking her face in your hands, kissing her softly. “I love you more than anything, Natasha. The trophies are just a plus”

“Mean” she laughs against your lips, kissing you again. “See you soon”

“Yeah”

With a final kiss, Natasha closes the door and you’re left in your apartment, still holding the box.

You try to think of something else, distracting yourself with cleaning and sorting out some clothes. Natasha texts you when she’s about to board and that finally makes you open the box.

The ring is beautiful. Very simple, because that’s what you like, instead of some flashy, giant diamond. You put it on and it feels… right, like it’s meant to be.

“Screw it” you take your phone and dial Stark’s number. “Tony, hey! Have a small favor to ask”

—

There’s a lot of movement in the airport, tourists and athletes arriving for the Olympics. Natasha figured it was going to be chaos, so she told Fury there was no need to pick her up. Still, there’s a driver waiting for her at the arrivals section.

“This way, please” the man says politely, leading her to a black SUV.

“I told you not to pick me up…” she complains as soon as she’s inside, but it’s not Fury on the other side.

It’s you, smiling at her.

“I couldn’t miss this. Not when you’re about to make history” you smile, kissing her. She squeezes you in her arms, shaking and refusing to let go. “Hey, it’s ok”

“I love you”

“More than winning?” you tease and she laughs.

“Yes. A million times yes”

“Damn, you have it bad. Now, let’s get going. Fury’s gonna put you on a tight training schedule”

—

It’s been a week. As you obviously pointed out, Natasha needed a lot of practice in clay. The surface asks for consistency and patience, and she’s anything but patient.

Still, she’s made it to the final, and you’ve been at the player’s box every single day. The press is having a field day, speculating about your absence during Wimbledon.

“So, what do I get if I win this thing?” Natasha says when you go and wish her good luck before the final match.

“A vacation” you promise, pulling out a sharpie to write in her arm. “You can’t read it until the match is over. I’ll place a little bandaid over it because I’m sure you’ll cheat”

“Baby, not fair”

“Shh, just do as I say. There” you finish, grabbing her chin so she’s facing you again. You smile, kissing her softly. “You got this”

“I love you”

“I love you too” you smile, smacking her ass. “Go win this thing, baby”

The crowd cheers as Natasha steps into the court, and you sit by her family and Fury as she warms up.

“Do you think she’ll be extra mean because she’s playing against Danvers?” Yelena whispers as the match begins.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the pictures” Yelena says, smirking.

“No, come on. She knows nothing happened”

But then Natasha executes a move that leaves Carol on the floor, her shirt and shorts covered in clay.

Yelena whistles, laughing as Natasha gets another game with four aces in a row.

“Alright, yeah. She might still be a little pissed”

The first set goes on to be a little bit of the same, Natasha winning with an easy 6-4. For the second one, it becomes a close call. Whenever Natasha serves, she’s in control of the ball, but if it’s Carol’s turn, she manages to throw Natasha off her game.

“Third set” Fury says, when Carol wins the tiebreak by two points.

“She looks kinda tired” you frown, knowing the change of surface might be getting to her.

And it definitely shows when Carol wins the first two games, Natasha struggling to get a deuce on the third one. If she loses this one, then you feel like she’ll definitely not be able to come back from it.

“Is there anything we can do?” Melina says, and you think about it for a moment.

“Oh, boy. I hope I don’t get kicked out” you stand up, aware that several people (and their phone cameras) turn to you.

“Take off the bandaid!” you shout. The umpire glares, asking for silence. Thankfully, there’s no request for you to get kicked out.

Still, you watch as Natasha does what you ask, while Carol dries her hands and gets ready to serve. Once she reads what you wrote, she smiles, turning to look at you.

Then, a miracle. Carol throws what looks like a killer serve and Natasha returns it so fast that you have to do a doble take.

“Is it code for something dirty?” Yelena jokes when Natasha wins the third game and gets two aces for the next one.

You laugh, ignoring her question. She’s so close. Two games. Eight points.

“Serving for the match” Fury moves around in his seat, anxious.

Natasha tries to breath, turning to look at you and you smile, nodding. You mouth an I love you and blow her a kiss.

Then, an ace.

“Fastest serve she’s ever done” Melina comments, looking at her notes.

The last three points go by in a blur, as Carol is simply not playing right. Her last unforced error gives Natasha a match point.

It goes by in slow motion. How she throws the ball, lifting her racket. Her movements graceful, almost like a ballerina as she practically floats.

Carol returns the ball, but it gets stuck in the net.

The crowd goes wild, Natasha dropping to her knees after the realisation sinks in.

Carol waits for her at the net, smiling and hugging her. Natasha accepts the congratulations, going to greet the umpire and turning to you a moment later.

She goes through the sea of people, straight to lifting you up and kissing you.

“Do you mean it?” she says, looking at the thing you wrote.

Yes, I’ll marry you.

“Absolutely. Now, put the ring on it” you say, handing over the box discreetly so she can pull the ring out and slide it in.

“Congratulations!” Yelena says, hugging you both.

Natasha is called back to the court, and you wipe the tears as she talks to the interviewer.

“Thanks to my family, my trainer, and my fiancee…”

The crowd cheers, and you can’t help but laugh at how perfect everything is.

This is a day you’ll remember forever.

2 months later

“Darcy, what news do you have for us today?” Maria says, the screen splitting to show the producer turned reporter.

“Romanoff breezed through her first match and is the favorite to become the USO champion. This would mean she would be the youngest player to complete the Golden Slam in the Open Era. Her wife and a former collaborator of us was also there”

“I believe she’s joining the WTA team soon, isn’t that right?”

“As Head of Communications, yes. And it couldn’t have happened to a better person. Congrats Y/N, but you still owe me a beer”

“Well, let’s hope she finds the time to settle her debt” Maria laughs, but then frowns. “Hey, you said wife. Didn’t they get engaged recently?”

“Well, have a look at what Natasha said in her post match interview” Darcy says with a smile, the screen running a recording.

“Have you set a date yet?” one of the reporters ask.

“Actually, we got married last night” Natasha says, turning to look at you, and you’re blushing when you notice all eyes on you.

“Congratulations” another reporter says. “Can you share anything about the ceremony?”

“Just that we’re very happy and can’t wait to go on our honeymoon. But my wife says I need to win the USO first, so… I better get back to practice. Nice chat, everyone”

Natasha leaves the conference room, amidst questions and camera flashes. You greet her with a short kiss, smiling as she pulls you by the waist.

“Now everyone’s going to say you’re whipped”

“Aren’t I?” she jokes, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s win this so I can have you all to myself for the next month”

“Relax, Mrs. Romanoff. We have our whole lives ahead” you kiss her, smiling as she squeezes your hand, her thumb running over your wedding ring.

“Forever and then some”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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redbleedingrose · 4 months ago

Note

Can you please write cute fluff headcanons of the acotar men ( whichever you want to write about) pampering their fem s/o with a massage because they see her tense with stress? Please and thank you .

Pleaseeee, the Bat Boys and Vanserra Bro's know how to treat their girls, especially when they are stressy spaghetti!!

I kind of want to split this up into a mini series, so I will do Rhys first. Let me know who y'all want second in the comments!

Rhysand

okay first off, why are you even stressed? This male does his very best to make sure his darling is never worried about anything.

But its okay, sometimes your emotions get the better of you. Not your fault darling, you're just his sweet girl who likes to worry your pretty head about things like how emotionally constipated Az is, or how Cassian is working overtime with his training after throwing out his back (embarrassing for the old ass male), and how Morr is being too secretive these past few months and something is definitely going on with her. Rhys thinks it is so adorable how you worry about the members of the inner circle, how you take care of them in the ways that they need.

He loves watching you pitter patter around the apothecary, trying to gather materials to create a balm for Cass' back. And he can't help but muse over you fussing over Azriel, forcing him into the settee in your office and having yourselves a little therapy session (he knows he will hear the tea about it later when you both go to bed, and he cannot wait). He does moan and groan when you plan for a girls night out with Amren and Morr, he wants to have some alone time with his mate, but you settle into his lap and pepper kisses all over his face and neck putting him into a lovesick daze before rushing off with a promise of what is to come when you arrive home from your night.

Anyway, you do sometimes get overwhelmed, you care so much. You worry about Rhysand, you worry about the inner circle, and more, you worry about Velaris and the entire night court. Being the first high lady of the Night Court has designed a load of pressure on you to be perfect at all times, to always say and do the right thing. And Rhys, well he grew up with that pressure. He knew this was going to happen to him, but he cannot imagine the stress you give yourself. Again, you care so deeply, and that is one of the things that made Rhys fall for you, so much so, he physically aches when you aren't around.

You always try to hide when you feel overwhelmed, too embarrassed and ashamed to admit it. Part of you doesn't want to bother the high lord, knowing he, himself, is incredibly busy putting out fires on a daily basis, and handling it with such grace. It is almost annoying how effortless Rhys rules. But Rhys knows. He knows you, and he knows your heart and soul. You don't have to tell him you are feeling overwhelmed.

He can feel it, he can see it. He notices everything about you. He clocks the crinkle of concern between your eyebrows, the way your hands shake ever so slightly as you read through and sign the most tedious and boring paperwork, the way you twist and turn the custom wedding ring on your finger, the way you shake your right leg as it rests across your other leg and how you pause it when you finally become aware you are doing it, only to start again. You are teeming with anxiety, and he will do everything in his power to get you to relax. He can't have his beautiful wife worried like this, oh no, not at all. You are too good, too pure, too precious to him to ever allow such a thing.

After deciding he has seen enough of his pretty girl worrying, he swoops you up, out of your chair and into his arms, right where you belong, carrying you just like he did on your wedding night, his stunning bride. He ignores your protests with a firm shake of his head, and kissing the side of your head with a small hum, tightening his grip on your squirming thighs and right at the edge of your breast, carrying you out of your office and into your shared bath. Halfway to the bathroom, you gave up your fussing and settled into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your head into his warm chest. He sets you down gently onto the counter, and traces his hands up your sides and settling onto your jaw, softly kissing every part of your face he can reach, focusing his attention on your rounded cheeks, pouted lips, fluttering eyes and your temple instead of answering your questions on what you are doing in your bathroom when you each have mountains of paperwork lining your desks that need to be completed before the winter solstice next week. "Darling, I don't mean to hush you, but hush. You, my mesmerizing mate, are too stressed out for your own good. I don't want you to worry about a single thing, and I will take care of it."

You immediately go into full denial mode, rambling with a quivering lip, "I can handle it Rhys, I am High Lady, and this is my duty, and I know what I am doing." Your husbands violet eyes twinkle as they normally do when they are focused in on you, and he listens on as you bubble out excuses and far fetched tales describing how you "really aren't stressed" and have "no idea what he is talking about," all the while rubbing at your tense shoulders and kissing the side of your mouth until he finally hushes you again. "S'alright baby, I know. I know you can handle it and that you know what you are doing. But if I am being honest, sometimes I get overwhelmed. And I just need you, I need you to be close to me. So will you please take this bath with me doll? I will even feed you chocolate covered strawberries and give you a massage with that lavander oil you love so much after."

The pecks to the side of your mouth were enough to convince you to stay with your mate, and follow through on his plans for a relaxing evening, but you didn't need to tell him that. The chocolate covered strawberries and full body massage are just an added bonus. The quirk of your lips is enough for your mate to vanish both your clothes and place you into the warm bath in front of him, holding your back close to his chest. He washes your hair, even letting the conditioner sit in while he presses his fingers into the tight knots in between your shoulder blades. After washing each other off, you both find yourselves snuggling in your bed designed for his large illyrian wings. You lay your head against his corded chest, giving into the deep sleep that calls you as he holds you pressed up against him.

Thank you so much for reading! Please like, comment, and reblog! It mean's the world to me.

Here is more of my work: Masterlist

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hedwig221b · 4 months ago

Note

Do you have any suggestions for stories similar to your Don’t Kiss and Tell or Incandescent? It’s hard to find Paige not being a love to Derek

uh, sorta, kinda... let's see if these ones will tickle your fancy

Unprofessional, Ms. Blake. But ARMS. by lalalathisisme

Ms. Blake, Erica's first grade teacher, may have a tiny crush on Mr. Hale, Erica's dad. He's tall, dark, and handsome and she has to remind herself to be professional and try not to climb Mr. Hale like a tree when he comes to pick Erica up after school. It doesn't help that he is completely adorable with his daughter – laughing and smiling and thoroughly impressed by every piece of macaroni-and-glue art that Erica makes. And every day he greets her with a hug, asking her how her day went. And he even says hello to Ms. Blake (“Jennifer” she insists, and yet he still calls her Ms. Blake) when he picks Erica up, looking like he actually cares to hear the random things that happened in class. She doesn't pry. She doesn't even know how to do it without seeming highly suspect. But as it happens, sometimes information is offered up relating to a class project, and she files them away in her brain in the folder titled 'This Is Unprofessional But Jesus, Have You SEEN His Arms?'

Professor D. Hale series by har1ey_quinn

A series of outsider POVs on Professor Hale and his significant other (with some guest appearances from the pack)

His by neil4god

He was always alone, head stuck in a book or glued to his phone. He never seemed to talk to anyone, was too busy running from class to the library and back again. Kent couldn't help but feel bad for him, after all he was his room-mate and he could see just how alone the poor guy was. At least, that's what he assumed, turned out he didn't know the first thing about Stilinski.

The life of the irresistibly oblivious Stiles series by Nosiddam1

Just a series of cute fluffy one shots where Stiles is irresistible or oblivious or both and who only has eyes for Derek.

The Way You Look At Him by neil4god

Their relationship wasn't perfect, no-one's ever was, but she didn't know how broken it was until she met Stiles. Derek never smiled at her like that, he didn't rush home early from work to make her dinner or pick up her favourite snacks like he did for Stiles. Derek didn't look at her the way he looked at Stiles and she was starting to think that maybe Derek wasn't a commitment-phobe like she thought, maybe he just didn't want to commit to her.

Too Little Too Late by SolariaLunar21

Danny's always had a secret crush on Stiles Stilinski but never hopes for more until he over-hears Scott and Stiles talking about the other boy coming out to his Dad as bi.

2, 4, 6, 8, Who's Gunna Get The Date? by rebekahdarian

The five times a cheerleader asked Derek out on a date, and the one time he said yes.

Cursed

It’s just not fair. Stiles loves Derek but Derek never notices him. Why would he notice a Tea Cup? Besides, it’s not like he’s able to break the curse. It’s not like he can make Derek human again. Derek’s stuck in Beta form, Stiles’ a tea cup. They’re cursed.

Incandescent

“You are trying to court our alpha,” sang Lydia. “Surely you realize that he does not reciprocate.” “He doesn’t stop it.” There was no point in lying. Paige was courting Derek. She would be a fool not to. “He doesn’t care to.” Lydia arched her thin eyebrow. “Why do you think he’s still searching for his mate, hmm? Why didn’t he stop once you were here? You think you can annoy him into sleeping with you?” Lydia laughed. “He is a born wolf, darling. He will not fuck you if you are not his.”

Don't Kiss and Tell

Paige has finally got the boyfriend she always wanted. The only thing is, said boyfriend doesn't touch her, doesn't kiss her and spends all his time with Stiles Stilinski. You'd think they were dating, or something…

Untouchable

The day Stiles Stilinski entered the Berkeley campus was the day all the alphas went absolutely fucking nuts. See, omegas were rare, even more than redheads. Got to be extremely fucking lucky to even see one in a lifetime. They were supposed to be these ethereal creatures of beauty and elegance, irresistible and blinding. And Stiles Stilinski was exactly that.

[masterlist link]

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utterlyotterlyx · 1 year ago

Text

When I Met The Devil

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Part Two to When I Kissed The Teacher which you can read here.

Summary - Azriel adored everything about you, but there was still certain information that you were keeping from him. Azriel finds out exactly what you've been hiding thanks to a particularly unfortunate visit.

Warnings - mentions of sexual abuse and neglect, angst, mentions of trauma

It had been three months since Azriel had taken you on your first (of many) dates. Azriel had been so nervous, not sure where to take you that would be able to live up to your expectations, even Nyx had given him some ideas by babbling on about what made you smile in the classroom.

Apparently you loved nature, of course you did, you were from the Spring Court. So Azriel had packed up a picnic and taken you to a garden of wildflowers away from the city to watch the sunset and gaze at the stars. You had taken his breath away when you had opened the door to him, you had dressed in a loose fitting pale blue dress with white flowers embellished into the bodice, the sleeves hung off of your shoulders and your hair lay unbound down your back.

That day had been one of the best days of his life, he had gotten to know you beyond your profession and learnt so much about you, but the nagging feeling that you were omitting some truth tugged at him, but not enough for him to make a deal about it. Azriel had kissed you under the stars, he had run his fingers through your hair and kissed you so passionately that you swore the world had stopped moving just so it could watch you

Since then, you had been inseparable.

Azriel showed up at the school each day after that, sometimes in the morning at drop off or in the evening at pick up, sometimes both, and he always brought you flowers or chocolates or anything he could think of that would bring a smile to those lips. He would walk you home, but more often than not he would pull you inside the River House and force you to have dinner with them.

You never objected to his wishes, you enjoyed his hands on you far too much to say no.

Azriel was happy to take things slow with you, you were so gentle and pure, if you wanted to wait years to share a bed with him then he was okay with that. You were worth any wait.

One morning you had opened the door to the school, frowning slightly when you couldn't see Azriel or Feyre and Rhys with little Nyx waiting on the grass. They would have told you if Nyx wasn't well and needed to take the day off unless it was serious, but even then, Azriel still would have showed up on the grass with our without Nyx just to see you.

It plagued your mind all day, and you did your best to conceal your worry from the children and continue as normal, but when it came to home time and none of them were there, you knew something wasn't right.

You had locked the room up quickly and stopped by a healer to pick up some infant friendly tonics just in case Nyx needed anything, bundling the vials in your hands as you rushed down the winding streets of Velaris, allowing your feet to take you where you needed to go whilst your mind reeled with endless possibility.

Lifting the hem of your skirt as you ascended the steps of the River House, you completely missed the scent that haunted your nightmares, too frantic with worry to notice it curling around you like chains. Then you saw the back of his head, shoulder length blonde hair and broad shoulders, and then the scent hit you, one of Spring rain and lifeful earth, and you dropped the vials in your hands onto the floor, not even flinching when they broke and cut through your skin.

The thing in question turned his head to the side and sniffed, smirking with feral delight before he fully turned to you, and you saw nothing else but him and those eyes that had made you do things you didn't want to too many times, they were dark and honed in on their prey. His lips tilted upward and he rose to his feet, and you didn't hear anything anyone else was saying or commanding as he strode across the room and stopped right in front of you. You didn't dare look up, you couldn't, and then his fingers gripped your chin harshly and forced your gaze upward.

"I've been looking for you," the room held a collective breath, his shoes crunched down on the broken glass and the liquid parted under his weight.

You knew that they were all watching you, waiting for you to say something, you averted your gaze to Azriel who was on his feet, fists clenched and glowering at the male who dared to touch you, "Nyx didn't show up to school, I thought he was sick, I was bringing tonics."

Feyre rose to her feet beside Rhys, "It's okay, Y/N," her eyes were soft, she could feel your terror, they all could, and then it seemed like your secret and finally been released from the depths of your shame, "Let go of her, Tamlin."

Tamlin chuckled but didn't take his eyes off of you, he cocked his head to the side and breathed you in, "Don't tell me to take my hands off what is mine," his voice was dangerously low, possession had taken over every part of him and the wolf was coming out to play, "Isn't that right, fiancé?"

"I'm not your fiancé," tears bubbled at the corners of your eyes and Azriel saw how small Tamlin made you feel, your shoulders had curled inward, your entire body was preparing to protect itself against the male who held your head in his hands. You looked to Azriel then, "I ran. I couldn't do it," you blinked hard and your tears flowed down your cheeks.

"Just because you ran doesn't mean that the agreement is void, Flower," you cringed, you felt helpless in his grip, like all of the independence you had worked for was nothing but dust dancing in the breeze, "The Tithe has been particularly awful without you."

Azriel lost it then, he grabbed Tamlin by the shoulder and forced him round, the action making his hand jolt away from your face, and Azriel landed a sickening blow to the side of his face.

"This is not a battle you want to fight, Tamlin," Rhys stood beside Azriel who was panting with fury, he knew what the Tithe was, they all did, and the thought of Tamlin using your unwilling body as a vessel for his sickening ritual was enough to send Azriel into a blind rage.

Azriel bent down to Tamlin's level, noticing Feyre rush to your side as he did to comfort you, and growled, "Touch her again and it won't be a battle, Tamlin. It will be a war."

Tamlin had the gall to grin, "She's my fiancé, Shadowsinger. Not even you can get between that."

"No, but I can," Cassian grabbed Tamlin by the neck of his coat, hauling him to his feet in front of Rhys, "Y/N is a member of the Night Court, she is a cherished member of my family. She is not your mate, so you have no claim on her and you know it. Now, leave my city before I cut your head from your shoulders and leave Spring lordless."

Knowing he wouldn't win on Night Court soil, Tamlin scoffed and headed for the door, not before stopping at your side and letting his gaze roam your figure, "They can't watch you forever. I'll see you soon, Flower."

Then he left.

And you stood standing in Feyre's arms pale and frozen, looking at the broken glass on the floor and shaking your head, "I have to go," you announced, peeling yourself out of Feyre's embrace and feeling like a completely awful friend to her, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N.."

You couldn't stick around and listen to her call your name, you couldn't stay there and witness Azriel looking at you like a stranger. So you ran. You ran all the way home, you didn't stop for a single moment until you closed the door behind you and slid down the wood, bursting into chest wrecking sobs.

If anyone would know who you were, it would be Lucien Vanserra, he was Tamlin's friend after all.

The red haired male found himself dragged before the Inner Circle by Elain, a thing he detested, he had just returned from the human realm and wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up with his mate, sitting in front of them was something he wanted to be rid of and fast.

"What do you know about Y/N? She came from the Spring Court," Lucien's eyes widened in saddening alarm at Feyre's question, he looked about the room as if you'd pop out from a corner at any given second.

"She's here?" Feyre nodded, "How is she?"

The question took them by surprise, and confirmed what they already knew, that you certainly we no double agent, but they had to know your story, it was a matter of protecting you, "She could be better. Tamlin was here."

Lucien's eyes darkened into molten lava pools and his nostrils flared, "Did he see her?" the silence confirmed his own query and he looked deflated, his shoulder fell and sadness floated over his face, enough sadness that Elain had moved to his side and wrapped his hand in her own.

"We need to know everything," Rhys ordered, moving his gaze to Azriel who was itching to leave the house and go to you, but even he had to know what had happened.

The Autumn male sighed, feeling conflicted, not wanting to tell your story for you but knowing he had no choice, "Y/N belongs to a very powerful Spring Court family, her father wanted a direct line to Tamlin so offered up his eldest daughter, Y/N, for marriage. Her father was a prick, no doubt still is. He sold Y/N to Tamlin like she was worth nothing more than what she could breed. She tried so hard to put off marrying him, she wanted a long engagement so that she could get to know Tamlin but everyone knew she just wanted more time to find a way out. Then the Tithe came and even I couldn't stop him from taking her into that cave," Lucien looked to Feyre who knew Tamlin all too well to know that what he was saying was nothing but the truth.

"Each year after that first Tithe, he sought her out against her will, you could hear her crying bouncing off of the walls. I couldn't watch it anymore so I helped her escape, I gave her enough money to be able to travel the continent and never heard from her again. I just did all I could to throw him off, to keep him away from her. Y/N was the happiest person in Spring, everyone loved her so much, and Tamlin ruined her."

"Seems like a pattern," Feyre cleared her throat and settled into Rhys' warmth that had wrapped around her like a blanket. She felt horrible, she thought she had it bad, but at least Tamlin never took her against her will like he had done to you repeatedly.

"Feyre I don't want to compare, but you have to understand that what he did to you was not nearly as bad as what he did to her. He took her light away, he forced her into a darkness I've never seen before or seen since, the neglection was sickening, she would cry for days on end, she'd mourn the life she dreamed of. It was unbearable."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, "She made it here though, I knew she'd find where she belonged in the end."

"Why didn't she tell me? I would have understood."

Rhys shushed his mate, he knew how much Feyre loved you, they all did, "Sometimes you don't want to talk about what others made you do," his mind drifted and eyes glazed over as he remembered his own story for a moment, the painful memories tugging at his heartstrings.

Rhys knew how it felt to be used against your own will, he knew how it felt to lie there each night and feel like a worthless pawn in someone else's game. He knew how it felt to work yourself into exhaustion trying to forget the terrors others had willingly inflicted on you.

If anyone could truly understand you, then it would be him. And there was no way he was going to let you lock yourself away and perish with shame when you had a family and life awaiting you.

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tinygrove · 7 months ago

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Decent Man Pt. 2

The first part

Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader

A/N: This ones a little longer than the last one. Maybe a little more suggestive but nothing wild just kissing. Not sure if I should make another part?

Summary: The follow up to the original post. You continue to navigate your rushed and arranged marriage to the Lord of Winterfell, but he is much more earnest than you believed.

As Cregan had mentioned, there was hardly any courting to begin with. It seemed the only thing you learned about him was his parentage and more information on his family line than you knew what to do with. Perhaps you dwelled on the matter for too long, the last bit of light was gone from the horizon and the dim candlelight could not do much for you. Sleep would surely be hard to find as a result of your worrying, or maybe you were just homesick. Perhaps you could try and fetch the maester for a draught once you've changed.

Reaching behind you, you unlace the rest of your gown. It’s an ivory silk embroidered with the details of your house sigil. You try to free yourself of your corset but a string has been caught on some invisible clasp.

“I forgot to mention,” Cregan falters for a moment as he realizes his intrusion, he seems like he might avert his gaze but his eyes never drift from you. Of course they stay firmly fixed above your neckline. “I am sorry, I did not realize you were…” What you have on under your gown is more revealing but you are still clothed, you feel no shame. Besides, if your lord husband cannot see you in only this who can? Your hair has become slightly unkempt as well, no longer so tidy and pinned but loose and deviating from its original style. You swear at one point you could see Cregan’s mouth slightly agape but you don’t dare to comment on it.

“It’s alright, we are wed now are we not? And, I cannot seem to free myself from this corset.” You’re not sure where all this sudden bravery has come from but if you are going to be married to the fiercest man in the North you should wield it more often. Cregan composes himself with impressive swiftness and makes his way behind you. Just before reaching out to touch you he stops himself as if he’s been caught in the act.

“Shall I fetch one of the ladies in your service to assist you?” He’s so close that you can feel his warm breath on the side of your neck and by then you’ve made up your mind.

“No, it's fine, I wouldn’t want to interrupt them. Do you think you could,” Before you can finish your sentence you feel the tips of his fingers graze your back through the fabric as he carefully unlaces you. It seems as if his hands have left invisible indentations on your skin, long after he’s pulled away you feel his touch. “Thank you.”

He turns away from you now, heading towards the wardrobe where a slim section has been filled with what little clothes you brought with you. He picks out a thicker cloak you’ve brought, not nearly warm enough to brave the worst of the northern weather but good enough to sleep in.

“Will this do my lady? I could lend you one of mine own as well if you do not mind.” He must’ve noticed the goosebumps rising on your skin. Unbeknownst to your husband it was from more than just the cold.

“I would like that, but I think first I must admit; I've been far too hasty to judge. You, by all accounts seem to be a truly decent man and I know we still do not know each other well but,” You need to take a deep breath to continue as heat rushes to your face. “perhaps we might simply share the bed, as any couple would? That would surely keep the cold at bay.” Evidently your husband has become flustered as well, a red flush creeps up his neck and face. Barely visible to you but all the more endearing in the dim light.

“Are you sure, we need not make haste, my lady. I know this marriage was somewhat rushed, for the both of us and there is no need to prove anything to me.” It was not lost on you that this marriage was advantageous, for more reasons than one. Arranged marriage was not something you looked forward to. As naive as it may be, you always hoped to marry someone you’d already come to love. Maybe some gallant knight or Lord, handsome and strong. But what's more likely to last is a marriage built on trust rather than infatuation. You have all your life to love your lord husband, tonight you can trust him.

“Yes I know. I'm grateful for the patience you've shown me but I think it is no longer necessary. You're an honorable man, I can see that plainly now, I should've seen it from leagues away. I'm sure.” You take his hands in yours, as he once did and the blush on his face only becomes stronger. You lead him to the bed and urge him to sit, he leaves space between his legs for you to stand. All the nerves have dissipated by now, no room for hesitation or second thoughts. You place an almost feather light kiss on his cheek. “One for your kindness,” You kiss his other cheek as well, much more earnestly this time. “and another for your generosity.”

His eyes cannot seem to part from yours now, ardent and serious. “There are many qualities I’d like to praise you for as well but I am not sure there are enough hours in the night.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses you, firm but passionate. His lips, like the rest of him are warm and all encompassing, you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. You have to will yourself not to chase them when he parts from you. It’s nothing like the kiss you shared during the wedding, quick and chaste. “That was for your compassion.” A large thumb swipes against your cheek and you can’t help but lean into it. “Shall I give you another for your loyalty?”

“Please.” This one lasts much longer, his hands have drifted to your waist now and your hands rest on broad shoulders. His lips press into yours strongly but he doesn’t demand anything of you. Even as he runs his tongue over your kiss-swollen lips he’s considerate. When you separate it’s with a contented hum and an understanding that if neither of you sleep now you never will. “Perhaps we should retire?” You suggest more than ask, snuffing out the candle by your bedside.

“Yes, I think that would be best.” Before you can fully remove yourself from his grasp he holds onto the thin fabric of your shift to keep you still. In nothing but moonlight the only part of him you can see is the shine of gray eyes.

“We were made one by this union, whether it was what either of us longed for marriage is our duty now. However there is no other woman I’d wish to be bound to in sight of the Gods. You are mine now, and I am yours.”

#house of the dragon #reader insert #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark/reader #cregan stark/you #hotd fanfic

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tillichan · 13 days ago

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ᰔ ⊹˚₊ Matchup for @ethereal-moonglow ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

♡ Your first meeting with Sylus is something you will never forget even if you want to. One day, while returning home from work, you found an injured man outside your house. He literally bled out, indeed, this view was not for the faint hearted. Even though survival instinct screamed that this person is very dangerous, your motherly and caring nature did not allow you to pass him by. And so Sylus covered with a cute bandage from head to toe ended up going home with you. Of course you didn't believe his assurances that all his wounds will heal themselves. This was absurd. No way these terrible wounds will heal themselves. You advised him to go to the hospital, but Sylus refused. This only confirmed you assumptions about his criminal origin.

♡ Surprisingly, Sylus was very calm and polite. He silently watched you while you were recovering the pieces of glass from his wounds. He made some sarcastic remarks and teased you from time to time though. And even though you told him to have enough rest, Sylus helped you to prepare a dinner and offered you to wash the dishes later. It was so comfortable to be with him, as if you two have known each other a long time. On the spur of the moment, you offered him to stay till his wounds are healed. Sylus was unable to say no to you.

♡ You were so shocked when you found out that his wounds cicatrized miraculously. Sylus just was chuckling as he looked at your face. "I told you so, sweetie", he said with a satisfied grin. That day he left your house and you were sure that you will never meet him again, but you were wrong. After this you and Sylus started bumping into each other with enviable constancy. Seemingly all these coincidences were fate, but only Luke and Kieran knew the truth. The truth about how much in love was their intimidating boss and how hard he tried to meet you as often as it was possible.

♡ Yes, Sylus was in love, deeply and hopelessly. Everything in you was so precious, so adorable to him. Your kind and caring nature shined brightly, you shined like the most valuable jewel. That day when you saved him, a monster, you became his treasure Sylus swore to protect. He dreamed about you, his mind turned into a chaotic mess, where were just you, you, you. All Sylus wanted was to steal you, bring you home and hoard as his the most important treasure. And it was not far from the truth. But he didn't want to rush things, he courted you, he did his best to win you over, he wanted you to fall for him as much as he did. Ah, that would be great.

♡ Sylus confessed you one cozy evening spent together having a delicious dinner and watching your favorite movies. You watched movie, but he couldn't keep his eyes off you, to be exact. And when you asked him playfully to watch the movie instead, he laughed and said: "Adoring you is much more interesting than this film. Perhaps it's because I'm very much in love with you".

♡ To clarify the situation, Sylus adores you way too much. He likes that you are so short and adorable, it makes him want to wrap his arms around you, pull closer and never let go. He likes that you are so caring and motherly. Every time Sylus is injured, even just a little, he hurries home and looks forward to being babied and pampered by you. He literally thrives on your genuine care for him. He finds it so hot when you wear a corset, he acts a little possessive warping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer as you two are hanging out every time you do this. When you cry over a movie Sylus wipes your tears away as he looks at you with such a love and adoration, it makes you feel weak in knees. For his years, Sylus was surprised to find out that he is a hopeless lovesick dumb. Even worse, he liked it.

♡ Luke and Kieran loves you a lot, you are their mother or older sister figure. And even though they protect you acting just like your guarding simps, they still tease you and Sylus as if there is no tomorrow. Good luck with their jokes! They value your patient teacher nature, the love and care you give them more than you can imagine.

♡ Sylus's favorite way to spend time with you is doing everything you want. Yes, he'd tease you, but he always ends up following you and doing whatever you like. He is just whipped, lost cause. You want to yap about your new hyper fixation? His ears are at your mercy. He listens attentively. You want to cuddle all day long? The enemies can wait, Sylus is very busy today. You want to see cute animals? Yes, ma'am! Get on the bike, you and Sylus will go to the zoo. But the most importantly, Sylus just wants to see this happy smile on your face. Yes, this one that makes him melt. Making you happy is his life purpose, and Sylus is sure, he won't ever get tired of it.

Ship Tropes

♡ "i'm a monster" (him) x "you are not" (you) ♡ big and intimidating boss x tiny cutie that has him wrapped around her finger (you) ♡ sunshine (you) x protector (him)

#love and deepspace matchup #love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #sylus headcanons #ela♡

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totallynottinsel · 27 days ago

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Hello!

I saw a post where you were asking for prompts about bagginshield, if you're still looking you could try something like,

Thorin desperately trying to get information about hobbit courting. Him sending ravens to go all the way to the shire to meet Darrow from the blue mountains to figure out what the hell Bilbo means by the words " flower language". Or "ancient family recipes" Or even "a garden gift proposal"

Have Thorin with the entire company trying to figure out how to get the king hitched with the legendary burglar. Ori suddenly wants all the information on hobbits. Nori is sending ravens frantically back and forth from the shire and one of his spy ring buddies. Bombur is cooking with bilbo and memorizing certain hobbit food techniques. Gloin is asking bilbo about his family and friends and what his parents did for courting.

Bilbo has either no clue what is happening, Or is just fucking with all of them. Dealers choice lol.

AAAAWGE this is so cute. I'm obsessed. Thorin pov this time huzzah!

Thorin was at a complete loss for words.

It had been a year since the reclaiming of Erebor and the Battle of the Five Armies, and after a steady recovery he'd begun his first works as king----starting with the removal of all the hoarded gold and it's trade with the men of Dale who sought to rebuild. Afterward came a reconstruction of the dwarven halls itself, as Smaug had done quite decent damage to the structure. It had all gone well, and Thorin fell into a comfortable sureness that he would steer his people well in the right direction; but one thing he did not prepare himself for was a certain hobbit.

He had enough in him to admit to himself he'd gone and fallen utterly in love with Bilbo Baggins, but lacked the confidence to say it to him directly. Or anyone. Ever. A horrible idea really; he did not want to risk the friendship he and Bilbo had grown over their journey if he shared his true feelings and only got rejected for it. He would rather have him as a friend instead of nothing all together. He had tried to make a few moves here and there, just to test the waters, but perhaps his attempts at flirting were too subtle? (He would soon learn from the company he was the exact opposite of subtleness)

He wasn't even certain Bilbo felt the same, especially after he had threatened his very life while under a fierce sickness; why would he take Thorin then? Even if Bilbo did not hold it against him for a second, he himself still felt pained by the incident.

It was only till Bilbo had begun making him breakfast every morning, the same time, just how he liked it---his suspicion was peaked that perhaps there could be something. It also offered him a smile each day, taking a weight off the stressful nights he spent working late, which was another thing Bilbo had done for him. He'd come to Thorin's room often to remind him to rest, or more of pushing him straight into bed whether he liked it or not. He kept himself from asking Bilbo to stay.

But one morning Thorin had been simply baffled.

"Thorin! Wait!" Bilbo came rushing for him from behind, trying to catch him before he left for a meeting. "I've---I've got something, before you go. For you." He had something he fiddled around with in his hands, looking a bit pink in the face.

Thorin's interest was immediately taken. "For me?" He quirked a brow, and watched as Bilbo scrunched his nose, seemingly considering what to do, then finally unveiled what lay in his palm; it was a neatly woven bracelet of sorts, made out of tree vines and fresh greenery, and a few small flowers. That took him by surprise, as he was half expecting him to have another acorn or something of the sort.

"You're meant to wear it on your wrist. Well---you probably already knew that, but... it's made out of plants from my garden. Er, a garden gift..." Bilbo rethought his last choice of words suddenly. "Proposal. In the Shire we---"

"Thorin!" Fili called from down the hall. "Bard and his men have arrived. They're getting a bit snappy..."

"Coming!" Thorin said back, and took the bracelet with a warm smile. "Thank you. I'll be gone for most the day, but if you'd like, we could meet after dinner?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, that sounds good." Bilbo nodded, though still had a bit of an awkward gleam to him for a reason Thorin couldn't quite place, that was until halfway into the council where he eyed the gift sat in his hand curiously, repeating Bilbo's words in the back of his head. 'A garden gift proposal.' Wait, proposal? Thorin seemed to have skipped over that crucial part. He gently fondled the bracelet in a deeper examination of it; what sort of proposal did it hold exactly? Was it a diplomatic one? An offer for celebration of the company's good health, perhaps? Or maybe it was rooted deeper than that. Maybe---

"Thorin? You alright lad?" Balin's voice cut through his thoughts abruptly, making him turn his head upward to see everyone staring at him strangely.

"Hm? Yes, fine." He recovered quick to spare himself any further prodding. Though he could not stop thinking of the gift from then on, and it rattled his mind in an endless parade of questions. Hobbit's were still a mystery to him, especially that of Bilbo Baggins. It wasn't long after the council ended that Balin, the ever kind soul he was, sat Thorin down for a talk as if he were a boy again.

"I know that look on your face," Balin said. "Something's troubling you."

Thorin only sighed, then revealed the bracelet from his pocket. "Bilbo gave this to me, he... said it was a 'garden gift proposal.'" Blain's eyes widened at that. "I'm not entirely sure what he means by it."

The older dwarf grinned. "He's been making your meals, hasn't he? And watching over you?"

"Yes?"

"Well, if my ears don't deceive me, it sounds like he's trying to court you lad."

Thorin stared back at him, then to the bracelet, unsure of his next step; he knew absolutely nothing about how hobbit's went about courting, hence why it took him so long to take notice to any of the signs---so that left him with few options. If he was to reciprocate Bilbo's attempts, he wanted to do it properly. "I need your help."

"Alright! Listen up," Kili shouted across the room full of the whole company, gathered in secret. "We're here to help my poor uncle, and your favorite king, finally get with Mr. Boggins."

"Baggins." Ori said.

"Oh, yeah. Anyways," Kili continued his survey of the room. "When was the last time you were eyeing someone, anyways?"

"Not since the candle incident with Rudan Wyverntank." Thorin said, and half the company shuddered at the mention. Poor Rudan still hasn't recovered.

"Right, well, we'll need all the help we can get then! C'mon, let's hear some ideas."

Nori raised a hand. "I can send a raven or two to my good pals in the Blue Mountains. Few of'em have had flings with some hobbit ladies. Oof, one said he couldn't walk straight for days after she---"

"Keep that to yourself!" Dori scrambled to cover Ori's ears, though the younger dwarf swatted him away.

"I---I wrote down quite a bit of things when we were first in the Shire," Ori raised the journal he had in his lap. "I could ask Bilbo about some of them, if that would help?"

"Perfect!" Kili clapped his hands together.

"If anyone knows about pleasing a lover, it would be me!" Glóin stood himself up proudly. "Let me speak with our hobbit, find out what he's playin' at. You know, my wife---"

"Yes, thank you, we know." Kili decided to give someone else a go.

"E'cooks for you, right Thorin?" Bombur asked. "Well, I could get a read on those scrumptious recipes o'his! Wouldn't mind getting some me-self..."

"Like you need more of those." Bifur grumbled, still surprising a lot of them with his now cohesive sentences as if that axe never even got near him.

"This is nice and all, but why don't you just ask Bilbo yourself?" Bofur, the ever open mouthed, spoke an obvious that many of them didn't think of trying.

"We've seen how that's played out." Fili choked back a keen laugh after Thorin gave him a less than pleased glare.

"He can't just ask!" Kili said in refusal.

"Why...?" Bofur was absolutely lost.

"Because---he... uh, that's too forward. They love it when you're mysterious!" Kili seemed to think after winning the heart of a Elven warrior, that he was automatically a romance expert. He did have his charms, but he ranked just above Ori in the socially inexperienced youngsters box, by dwarven standards. Fili laughed again.

Thorin only wished for a smidge of advice to guide him in the right direction, not a full blown battle worthy scheme. But, there he was---taking it regardless.

So, there it began with Glóin, who retrieved some interesting information; he learned that Bilbo found his parents relationship very aspirational, as they loved and understood each other well, but when bickers struck---they always worked through it. Bilbo admitted he wished they were there to help him, but with what in particular, he flushed and laughed it off. Glóin also, being a big family man, asked if A, he had close kin, (which was a no, besides a cousin or two that didn't hate him) and B, if he wanted to have children in the future.

Thorin had his first and hopefully only heart attack learning the answer to the latter was "with the right person, I suppose."

Kili's immediate: "You better get to work then." Did not help either.

Next came Bombur, who learned the delicate breakfasts, mid-day snacks, and lavish dinners Bilbo had been making were indeed a traditional hobbit form of early stage courting. It was meant to show your heart and dedication and how much you knew about the person's taste. And as consistently as Bilbo had been doing it, they should've been on the honeymoon already. It never crossed Thorin's mind that food could be an affectionate thing, but Bombur was quick to criticize him on that. "It's much more than sustenance, y'know!"

Ori had quite a great insight as well; he showered Thorin with piles of books about hobbit culture, though where the young dwarf found them was a mystery to him entirely. Among them was also some 'educational' dwarven literature on all things romantic and, well, coital. Ori insisted he absolutely did not mean for that to get inside the pile. "Sorry, really! I'll take that. Not that I need it! Uh, sorry!" Thorin didn't see him again for days, fairly certain he scared him off completely.

Nori had gotten valuable intel from his mates not long after, and he could confirm the whole bracelet 'garden gift proposal' thing was exactly what it sounded like. You make said gift out of plants and vines from your garden, and offer it to whomever you wish to deepen your relationship with---a sort of next big step from casual flings and early courting. If the person accepts the gift, they agree, and bring a bracelet back of their own making in return. Well, there comes the second heart attack unfortunately.

With the bracelet in mind, Thorin wanted to do his part and give Bilbo one back to show he wanted this. But that required plants and vines and flowers, which were fairly non-existent on and in the mountain, nor did he know how to make one with the right materials. So that meant...

"You've come for my help, over matters of the heart? How amusing is that." A sly smirk ran across Thranduil's lips as he sat splayed over his throne, watching Thorin like a cat pawing at a helpless mouse. "Tell me, Thorin Oakenshield," There he goes. "King Under the Mountain, what can I offer you?"

After the Battle, he and the Elven King had amended their feud, and Thorin made right to return the white gems of Thranduil's kin. Though they may have become allies as rulers, they were not past petty talk and silent glares. Thorin held down his pride and carried, even if he wanted to wipe that smug stare off his face. "I wish to return Bilbo a gift he has given me, but I lack the supplies to forage it properly." In his hand he held the bracelet out, and Thranduil leaned forward, interested. "It is made out of plants. As you can imagine, I cannot find what I need on the mountain. So.."

"You want to weave your gift out of my leaves?" Thranduil's brow perked upward.

"Yes."

The Elf thought quietly, tapping a finger to his chin, as if to just prolong Thorin's suffering. "Alright." He finally said.

"What?" Thorin wasn't expecting that, based off their previous encounters in deal making.

"I'll help you," Thranduil descended his throne, the train of his luxury gown following behind. He approached the dwarf, eyeing the gift, but not with malice. "But there's a cost."

Of course there is.

"I'll be the first to be invited to your matrimony."

"Matrimo--?"

"Come!" Thranduil clapped his hands, and servants came to his aid out of thin air. "Gather the finest vines from our trees; the purest leaves, and the most blooming flowers. Go, now." Thorin had been happily surprised by Thranduil's assistance, and what the elves brought to him that day was almost identical to the one Bilbo had crafted, but had a far more elegant work to it instead of the rustic charm of the Shire. The vines were darker rather than a lighter brown, the leaves bright oranges and reds instead of bright green, and tiny, almost colorless flowers were spotted over it. It was just as unique as the first. He could only hope Bilbo would like it.

When the night came, the company watched with wide eyes and cheeky grins outside the library door, waiting in anticipation for the moment they'd all been working towards. Even if Thorin strictly said he wanted it to be private, they deserved to see their efforts paid off!

"I wish to give you something, as a thank you for your gift, and..." Thorin held out the Elvish bracelet in his palm, and felt his heart give at the sight of Bilbo's smile. Surely his knees would go next if this was to keep going well. "It was made out of Mirkwood. I... hope it is to your liking." He heard some of the company laughing off somewhere. So much for kingly respect.

"Oh, Thorin, it's beautiful---really." Bilbo took it eagerly, holding it between his fingers, reminded of the memories of the wood and the Elven kings halls, both the good and the mostly bad. "Nori's ravens worked well then?"

Suddenly the laughter came to a fast halt.

Thorin blinked silently. "You knew--?"

"Of course I did! You all aren't very good at keeping things secret." Bilbo planted his hands on his hips. "I was interested to see how it would end. Though I'll be honest, I thought you wouldn't catch on to what I was doing. Suppose I could've been a bit more on the nose..."

"That may have helped." Thorin chuckled, guiding the Mirkwood bracelet to Bilbo's wrist, and Bilbo did the same to him with the Shire one. They laughed at the absurdity of the whole ordeal, then fell into a tender hug, and when they parted---Thorin placed a kiss on Bilbo's forehead. Bilbo stood there in his arms for a moment, taking in the action, before standing up on his toes to meet his lips with the dwarf's. Behind them a crowd of whistles and cheers and cat-calls came to celebrate, which soon enough ended in the whole company charging in to make a large group hug that swallowed them whole.

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #fic request #thorin is STRUGGLING but he manages #idk if any of these are actual hobbity courting stuff so i just made it up based on the names LOL #thranduil for the win #he loves gay people #thorin povs are so fun definitely leave some more down below

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sweetiecutie · 2 years ago

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Valeria Garza sugar mommy hc’s

Pairing: Valeria Garza x fem! Reader

Warnings: mdni, sugar mommy/sugar baby dynamics, age gap, a liiiiittle bit of angst but it’s all good, smut, it’s proofread a few times but I’m dyslexic so there prob will be mistakes lmao😭

In my mind Valeria is a raging lesbian. She always knew that she was attracted to women, but still gave a few goes to relationships with men. And, needless to say, the only things she got from those were trauma and deep disappointment in men. I can’t tell about her relationships with Alejandro for sure - were they platonic or romantic - but I kinda feel like he was the final straw for her. After whatever happened between these two, even an idea itself of being together with a man repulsed Valeria.

So when she laid her eyes on you - pretty little thing, all giggly and bubbly, looking up at her with those adorable doe eyes - Valeria knew that she just had to have you at any cost.

At first she was very subtle with her advances - she wanted to make sure that you were into women as well, to avoid yet another painful disappointment. And she couldn’t exactly ask you straight - that could’ve freak you out and scare you away - last thing Valeria would want. It took a pretty long while - for Valeria’s great dismay and frustration - for a perfect opportunity to finally come. And when you, giggling and blushing, confessed that you were indeed interested in women - Valeria felt giddy. Just perfect.

After this rather informative conversation between the two of you, Valeria finally decided to bring to life her plan of courting you. At first it was very confusing for both you of you. Mostly you. Here she is - this insanely attractive older woman, being genuinely interested in your company, asking you out for coffee or just a ‘girls night’ every once in a while, and you didn’t know how to feel about it all. Valeria was playful and flirty, all the fleeting touches on your shoulders or thighs that made you tremble, your fingers brushing while handing something to each other, longing stares that were a bit too long to be brushed off and it wasn’t long until you developed a crush on her. And rather huge one, I’d say. “But did she actually feel the same? Was she interested in you the way you were in her? Or was she just playing around, like a cat with a trembling mouse, before throwing you away once she got bored?” - these were the questions buzzing loudly in your head, and you didn’t know what to do.

You’ve been fighting your feelings back - ignoring butterflies flaring in your stomach whenever Valeria called you, or stupid smile stretching your lips at the mere thought of her. Your “little crush” turned out to be stronger than you initially thought it was, and it scared you. So, to avoid your heart being broken, you decided to take this whole situation into your own hands. And by that you meant ignoring Valeria until your feeling for her disappeared.

And oh baby, was she annoyed by that. Once eager and happy “Of course, sushi night sounds just great” from you was replaced by “Sorry, but uni really has me in a chokehold, gotta lots of work to do”. This lasted for nearly a month before Valeria’s this thin patience finally snapped - she had to do something about it.

She decided to visit you late in the evening (so that she was sure you were home, to avoid possible frustration by you being absent). Banging on your front door she waited patiently for you to open it, listening to quiet scurrying on the other side.

Soon tentative “who’s there?” came from you, your voice sounded so small - scared, even - not waiting anyone this late of an hour.

- It’s me, hermosa. Open the door, - she said as calmly as she could manage, jaw set tightly and nostrils flaring as adrenaline was rushing through her veins.

You cracked open the door, peeking out to make sure it was actually her, before opening it fully. Valeria felt her rage fading slightly at the sight of you - hair all disheveled and up in a rushed bun, skin flushed and soft from hot shower, small silky bathrobe you had on gave her a pretty sight of your plushy thighs.

You were relieved to see her at your door and not some creep that could put you in danger. But the look of annoyance etched on her pretty face made you gulp nervously, whole body tensing as you could clearly feel a not so pleasant conversation quickly approaching.

You stepped aside, letting Valeria inside your small apartment. She made her way to your living room, stopping in the middle of the room and looking around, not saying a single word. You lingered behind her awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

- Sooo, would you like some coffee? - you started tentatively, playing with your thumbs to busy your hands with something.

- The fuck is happening, Y/n? - Valeria asked harshly, turning around on her heels to fully face you.

- Pardon? - you asked, your eyes widening at the sudden aggression in her voice.

Valeria sneered at your lost expression, looking at the wall behind you and inhaling deeply through her nose, trying her best to control her rage. This woman had a short temper, and you perfectly knew it, internally preparing yourself for a shouting marathon. You watched Valeria close her eyes, taking another deep breath, before saying in a eerily calm tone:

- You’ve been avoiding me. For a month now. Why?

Oh. So she did notice.

You stood there, like a deer caught in the headlights, as Valeria looked expectedly at you.

- So? - she pressed, cocking one of her dark eyebrows as silence went on for far too long. You gulped, trying to swallow a heavy lump constricting your throat, your waterline burning with bitter tears.

- Because I don’t know how to feel about you, - you uttered quietly, your voice small and weak, trembling ever so slightly. You tried controlling your breathing in a weak attempt of calming yourself down, not to let hot tears fall down your cheeks, especially in front of her.

- The fuck is that supposed to mean? - Valeria barked, making you wince slightly. She regretted it immediately, taking yet another deep breath to cool down, waiting patiently for your reply.

You hesitated. Should you tell her the truth? Or you could use an excuse of being busy with your studies, it seemed like it worked perfectly with Valeria. Or so you thought, anyways.

It was now or never - at this point, after you avoiding her for several weeks and this exact conversation happening, your relationship with Valeria would never be the same. So you decided to rip the bandaid off in one harsh move - painful at first, but it’ll be way easier in the future.

- I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. And I decided to end it before it got way too out of hand.

Ringing silence fell between the two of you. Valeria looked at you dumbfounded. Wait, what? Did you just confessed to her? That means that you actually, actually, liked her back?

Garza just stared at you silently, and you felt sick to the bottom of your stomach. You couldn’t control your tears anymore, feeling them flow down your cheeks freely. You quickly turned away, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, angrily wiping salty tears away. Anger was bubbling inside of your chest - this is so stupid, stupid, stupid!

You heard footsteps behind you and suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, Valeria’s warm body pressed against your shuddering back, molding against you. She rested her forehead against your shoulder, rubbing her face against soft material of your bathrobe, arms squeezing you a tad tighter in a hug.

- Princess, you don’t know how much I wanted to hear you say it, - she murmured against your skin, inhaling a lungful of your sweet scent. Your head snapped to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Valeria.

- What..?

In a swift move the turned you around, warm hands resting on both your cheeks, thumbs wiping your tears away. Before you knew it her plump lips were slotted snugly against yours, sending electric shocks running up and down your spine, electricity tingling on your fingertips. You gasped softly before she broke away, leaning back just enough to have a proper look of your flushed pretty face. Without fully realizing what you were doing you leaned forward, once again meeting her lips with yours, arms wrapping around her shoulders to keep her as close to you as humanly possible.

So that’s how relationships between you two started. You two never actually settled sugar mommy/sugar baby dynamic, but with the age difference and all the money Valeria had from running a cartel?? Baby, you get whatever you want.

Valeria literally spoils you rotten - any jewelry, expensive makeup or clothing piece you may want - you most certainly get it. She also loves to take you to pretty locations like Italy, Spain, Jamaica - you name it. Your vacations never last long due to her work, but it’s enough to make some amazing memories together. But spoiling also goes to some extend - you want another car? Cariño, you already have three new pretty sport cars in garage - the answer is a firm NO.

And speaking of work - Valeria wants you as far from it all as well. It’s most likely you don’t even have any idea of what she’s doing for life. You guess that it’s something illegal - considering all the conspiracy and amount of money Valeria makes. But you don’t think too much into that; Valeria wants you away from all this dark business - so you do just that.

Valeria has a pretty tight schedule, not always having time for sleep, not saying anything about time to spare for you. That means that when she does have free time she expects you to be right there with her, no matter what you were previously occupied with. College? - Skip it. Family gathering? - Babe, you see them pretty often anyways, now get your precious ass over to her. Of course it annoys you as well sometimes, but Valeria genuinely doesn’t see anything wrong with her behavior so you have to patiently explain to her that you can’t always come to her at her smallest whim, causing pretty nasty arguments by that.

Valeria is very possessive. Whenever you extremely one of your friends that you’re really close with? God, it just turns some switch inside of her - her smile disappears, jaw clenching slightly and her whole body goes a bit rigid. She wants you all to herself, she wants you to only think about her and no one else. She knows that it’s wrong, that she shouldn’t feel this way, but she simply can’t help it! You are so smart and kind and pretty and charming - it’s hard NOT to fall for you! It takes lots of reassurance from your side to soothe Valeria’s pointless worries, proving over and over throughout the night that she’s the only one for you, the only one that can make you feel so loved and needed.

Valeria definitely gave you a cute golden choker, inlaid with lots of pretty gemstones. She loves seeing you wearing it - not only it goes well with most of your cute outfits; “mommy’s princess” engraved on the inner side of it translated onto your skin prettily, staying there for several minutes - bare sight of it makes Valeria’s mouth water, fingers twitching with want.

And speaking of sexual activities - I’m a firm believer that Valeria is a dom. Hard or soft - depends on her mood and your behavior. But this woman just doesn’t know how to bottom, not that she wants to. She loves her pretty pillow princess, loves to do all the work for you, having you at her complete mercy. You tried switching roles a few times, but every single time Valeria ended up pinning you down, absolutely ravaging you with her tongue, fingers or strap (or all together👀)

She’s VERY into pet play. Varelia absolutely adores tugging on the leash, making you whimper and ordering you around. Loves seeing you humping her leg like a desperate little pup, being so polite asking your mistress to finger your tight hole<3

Loves loves LOVES making you squirt!!! And don’t have any doubts, you WILL squirt with her! This woman just know how to make another woman cum in a matter of minutes. And all the cute sounds you make? God, it drives Valeria absolutely crazy!

Loves receiving sloppy slow heads. You sitting in between her spread legs, so desperate to please her. Your big doe eyes almost rolling back into your skull, tongue delved deep inside her pussy as you lick and lap at her seeping cunt, nose nudging her clit. Valeria buried her hands into your hair, tugging you towards herself, nearly choking you on her cunt.

And can you guess what Valeria’s favorite activity is? Scissoring you absolutely stupid early in the morning, her clit rubbing tightly against yours, your juices mixing, running down your thighs and ass. And make sure to give her a show, massaging your bouncy tits, pinching these perky nipples. Best way to wake up imho🥰

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thelov3lybookworm · 3 months ago

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Misapprehensions and Confessions

(moodboard creds to @sunshinebingo hehe she made it so pretty 🥹)

Day 1: First kiss

Summary: It has been a regular routine for Gwyn to seek out the spymaster for training. And when he suggests helping her out with getting reaccustomed to society, it doesn't take too much persuasion for Gwyn to agree. But when he doesn't show up one day, Gwyn takes up the liberty to accompany herself into the city.

That one decision is all it takes for it all to fall apart.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 3013

Warnings: none for this chapter, though theres going to be yummy angst in the coming parts heheheh 😋

A/n: SURPRISEE!!! WE'VE BEEN KEEPING IT FROM YOU ALL BUT ME AND POOKIE @sunshinebingo HAVE BEEN WORKING ON A GWYNRIEL FIC TOGETHER FOR @sjmromanceweek 🥹

heres the first part for the mini series for day 1 <3

Read on AO3 here

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Gwyn's pov.

Gwyn adjusted her belt around her waist after making sure her white t-shirt was perfectly tucked into her high-waisted jeans, then turned this way and that in front of her mirror, her high ponytail swishing at her back as she assessed herself from every angle. Deciding she looked good enough for her weekly trip to Velaris, she walked out of her dorm room, closing the door behind her.

By the time she reached the balcony on the highest level of the House of Wind, her hands were slightly shaky and her cheeks a little flushed. And they had nothing to do with the pace at which she had climbed the steps to the man landing of the house. The reason why her heart was beating faster, chest heaving, adrenaline rushing and her lips were parted stood at the railing with his back to her in a black t-shirt and equally black sweatpants, the curls of his dark hair tousled as though freshly washed and barely towelled. The afternoon sun gilded the edges of his perfect silhouette and added a bright outline that complemented beautifully with the dark shadows swirling around him.

Gwyn sighed wistfully.

A few wisps of shadows rushed to her at the sound, as excitable and ticklish as they always were. Their nuzzling caused her to giggle and their master to turn around.

“Hello, Shadowsinger,” Gwyn laughed, not yet able to look at him thanks to the shadows who wouldn’t stop circling her.

“Alright, alright, I missed you too,” she said to the shadows. “You saw me this morning at training. And you, little sir,” she pointed at one in particular, “stayed with me for a good hour after.”

The one shadow booped her nose and settled on her shoulder and remained there even when the others moved away from her face so she could see their master. When Gwyn was finally able to look Azriel in the face, she found him staring at her with a look that caused her cheeks to burn.

Gwyn wondered if she would ever be able to control her blushing in his presence. Wondered if the hazel eyes looking at her would ever not make butterflies come to life inside her.

Today marked the third month since their first outing. It had been during one of their private training sessions at night that Azriel had proposed to be her companion while she braved one of her biggest fears; exploring the world outside the library of the House of Wind. Three months of walking beside Azriel as he showed her around Velaris and a few other places of the Night Court, drinking in every information he offered, his advice and praises, leaning on him for security or simply comfort. Three months during which her gratefulness and admiration for him had grown exponentially, turning into something akin to what the protagonists in the novels she read felt for their love interests.

Being an avid reader and a good observer, Gwyn knew that there were signs that did not lie. There were certain things heard and seen that hinted at those which remained unvoiced. The stolen looks and the smiles, the banter and subtle flirting, the touches that had gone from accidental to very much intentional and welcomed; all of these combined with the meddling and teasing from their friends and family made Gwyn hope that, perhaps, if she dared be courageous in ways she hadn’t been yet, she could live a life where her daydreams would be reality.

Unfortunately, no amount of reading or even praying had helped her take the leap from hoping to actually confessing her feelings to Azriel. What if she wasn’t enough? Not pretty enough for this stunning male, not strong enough to be worthy of him, her mere 29 years no match to his 500 of existence and experience?

And yet, the way those hazel eyes were looking at her right now, appreciating and silently approving of her chased away any doubts, his smile making them float away like the shadows that brushed her cheek as they made their way back to him. He extended a hand towards her.

“You ready, Berdara?”

Her name being voiced by his deep voice caused a fluttering in her heart. And a tingle in other places of her that she blushed even more just thinking about. It got worse when she took his hand and felt a shiver run up her arm at the feel of his skin.

“To spend time with you? Always.” She admitted with a smile.

Azriel brought her hands to his lips for a kiss on her knuckles worthy of a romance novel. Gwyn’s heart beat wildly in her chest as she followed him closer to the railing. As she had done many times before, she wrapped her arms around Azriel’s neck and allowed him to effortlessly lift her up bridal style.

Gwyn was enveloped in his arms and his scent, his shadows acting as another blanket that wrapped around them both. It almost felt like they were pulling Azriel and her somehow closer.

“You still won't tell me where we're going today?” She asked.

His wings began spreading behind his back, the sunlight revealing the blue and purple veining on them.

“You’ll see when we get there soon.”

“Can you at least give me a hint?” She insisted.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “As much as I hate to admit it for fear that your head grows bigger, you’re too smart for me to give you a hint without risking that you find out before we get there.”

Gwyn frowned at him, although she glowed inside at the compliment.

“If it sucks, I’m putting a stop to our weekly outings.” She warned him with a lie.

Azriel looked down at her with a tilt of his head. The smirk that tugged at his lips made him look downright sinful.

“You won’t.” He said.

“How can you be so sure?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Because,” he leaned down, his face now so close that the tips of their noses almost brushed, “You won’t dare deprive us both of our favourite day of the week.”

He shot up into the sky without warning. Gwyn squealed and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

She wanted to retort and challenge his last claim. But he was right. And he knew that he was right. It was something they had told each other before, word for word even. A confession that had come out during a picnic on a cliff overlooking the sea, in between a conversation about their respective pasts and another that had been filled with laughter.

There had been another confession on the edge of her lips back then, threatening to spill out without her permission as he had cradled her cheeks to swipe away her tears. But fear had made her swallow it, just like it did every time they met up.

Gwyn had promised to herself that she would be brave and strong. But confessing one's feelings, she had realised, was much harder than luring a beast or cutting down any physical enemies. She was a Valkyrie, always ready to fight and protect. She had been trained to use every weapon that had been put in her hands and had learned how to turn seemingly harmless objects into deadly ones. Yet Azriel was a ribbon that she had yet to find out how cut.

One day, she vowed as she gazed at him while they flew above the clouds. Soon, she decided when he pulled her slightly higher and brushed his lips to her forehead.

The flight to their destination was shorter than Gwyn had anticipated. They landed in front of a building at the border of Velaris. But while she had always seen it in a state of construction, now the green tarpaulin had been removed to reveal a place that looked like it had come out of a dream.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel's pov.

Azriel had been on many dates. Romantic, platonic, work related. He had been to plenty.

But none compared to this.

The time he spent with Gwyn. Watching her smile freely, gave him a sense of purpose, a sense of him doing something right. She was beginning to open up to him, and it made him feel like he was on top of the world. The fact that she trusted him, no one else, to take her down to the city and get reacclimated to socialising after a traumatic event no female- or male, for that matter- should have to go through was truly a freeing feeling.

It made him feel like he was not just inherently bad, like he wasn’t just a sadist who tortured people for a living and a messed up sense of obligation. The tainted hands he owned, the shadows that he used to spy on people, they could be used to bring comfort, happiness.

They could make someone feel secure, safe.

Even now, as Azriel placed his hand gently on the small of Gwyn’s back, the feelings remained. He led her into the beautiful two-story white stone building with wide terraces on each level. Gwyn stared at the place in awe, marveling at all the green plants they had been able to fit on the ceilings and at every column and railings. Azriel watched with rapt attention as her eyes roved over every surface, wide with wonder.

As they climbed over the few steps that led to the entrance, he nudged Gwyn, motioning with his free hand. Her lips parted as her gaze landed on the fountain that glimmered inside no doubt what was the lobby, only confirming this place as coming out of a dream. It was the epitome of elegance and romance.

And Azriel wondered if she too described this place as that. As something romantic.

Wondered if she knew he felt such feelings. That there was a reason he brought her to such an intimate place.

He told her to wait, then hurried over to the reception. One of the workers dressed from head to toe in pristine white garments tinted with light gold shimmer led the two to a table in the far back.

The inside was almost opposite from the outside in that the outside seemed to be shining under the afternoon sunlight. The interior, though, was darkly lit.

Everything seemed mysterious, from the candles that hung from sconces, to the ones that stood proudly on the candelabras on the white cloth covered tables. Stained glass windows covered large portions of the walls, changing colour with every step they took, further adding to the dark allure. One moment, they displayed a plethora of reds, then blue the next step.

It was easy to assume the glass panes were most likely charmed.

The worker stopped at a table next to a window that displayed a beautiful portrait of a woman peering up at the skies, her eyes upturned and hands raised in prayer. It almost looked haunting.

Azriel hurried to pull Gwyn’s chair back for her, then walked over to the other side to settle down himself.

“Azriel, this place is beautiful.”

Even the syllables of his name rolling off her tongue made his ears turn warm.

“You think so?” She nodded, her eyes still wandering around. “So you like it?”

She looked almost offended that he’d even asked such a stupid question. “Of course I like it! Anyone would love this place. It is so beautiful.”

Azriel folded his arms over the table, smiling as he gazed at Gwyn. “It opened recently, so I thought we could try out the food.”

She nodded. “I’ve seen this place before, but I think they were under construction then.”

He hummed. “So, what have you been up to this past week?”

She groaned, leaning back in her seat and dragging her hands down her face. “Don’t ask. Merrill has been bothering me so much. It’s almost like she’s trying to kill me or something.”

Azriel raised an amused brow. “Why is that?”

Her brows furrowed in annoyance. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Me? Laugh at you? Never.” He raised his hands, his smirk widening.

She huffed. “Go away. I won’t tell you.”

He chuckled, mirroring her position. “I’m sorry, I won’t laugh. Please, tell me how the awful female has been causing you woe.”

“One day, I will force you to work with her, and you won’t be so amused anymore.” She grumbled under her breath.

It only took a bit more encouragement, but she finally began speaking, forgetting his initial disrespect to her frustrations. She spoke throughout the whole time they spent in that restaurant, and Azriel was only too happy to listen.

Time lost its meaning, and before long, they were walking side by side down the market square.

“Can we go home?”

Azriel glanced over at her, then towards where the sun was setting. “Why?”

She sighed. “I need to finish researching some nymph-fae relations from centuries ago. Merril wants me to hand them in before tomorrow.”

Azriel’s lips twitched, but he nodded dutifully, avoiding her narrowed eyes as he bent to scoop her into his arms.

“One day, Azriel. I will make you pay for making fun of me.”

Azriel only looked up to the skies, then pumped his wings, catching the breeze and gliding over it. She squealed, her hold tightening on his neck. Azriel found it adorable, how she never really got used to flying. Each time, she’d make surprised noises and cling to him tighter.

“Would it kill you to give me a warning?!” She said into the skin of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

He’d be lying if he denied not warning her before jumping into the skies on purpose.

Lights were beginning to come on by the time he levelled out, and he squeezed Gwyn’s waist, prompting her to glance down. She smiled, her eyes tracking over all the tiny lights and their reflections off of the Sidra.

“I can never get used to this.”

He said nothing, just watched her. Sure, Velaris was beautiful and he himself remained in awe of the city, but nothing was more beautiful than Gwyn smiling. The way her eyes twinkled, the way her skin crinkled around her eyes and lips, the way her freckles shifted. Everything about her had him hypnotised, and he would never, ever, complain about anything in his life if he got lucky enough to see the sight all day, everyday.

For now, though, he was grateful he could even see the beautiful sight twice a day at training.

Too soon for Azriel’s happiness, his feet made contact with the floor on one of the house of wind’s balconies. It was the one closest to the library. He didn’t even know why he always picked this particular balcony to land on, but maybe in his subconscious, he wanted Gwyn to feel safer by landing in the place closest to her place of comfort.

Gently setting Gwyn on her feet, he straightened. She turned to him, and he knew what was coming.

It was a ritual, almost. After every outing of theirs, Gwyn would turn to him, smile, thank him, and then kiss his cheek.

It always left him a blushing mess.

He could see her preparing to rise onto her tiptoes, smiling up at him. Maybe if he kissed her cheek before she could, maybe he wouldn’t be left flustered?

Yes. And she might get shy and blush…It would be perfect, his shadows whispered excitedly.

But… no. It would be too forward of him.

Why? They complained.

Because I do not know if she is comfortable enough with me kissing her, he replied to them.

She likes master.

No. And even if she does, I do not know if-

Here’s the thing about his shadows. They were just that, shadows. Wispy, dark tendrils of smoke. But they could be corporeal when he needed them to be.

And being their own beings, when they wanted to be.

So Azriel wasn’t expecting them to become semi solid at that moment as Gwyn’s lips were barely a hair's breadth away from his skin.

Nor was he expecting them to push against his other cheek, making him turn his head in surprise.

Azriel’s eyes widened as he realised the proximity between him and her. He only had a moment to turn his head away, hoping her lips would land on her cheeks.

Alas, he was too slow.

Her lips grazed his cheek, sure, but they also touched the corner of his.

He froze, his gaze fixed on her face, the skin tinting a deep, beautiful shade of red. She pulled away quickly, her heartbeat so loud that Azriel could almost hear it.

He swallowed, his own heart beating in his throat. Blood rushed to his neck and ears as he looked at her, her eyes wide and lips parted.

I could get used to this sight, he thought.

But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. He needed to apologise.

“Gwyn I-”

“Bye-”

They both spoke, then stopped. Waiting for the other to speak. Neither of them did.

It got so awkward to the point that Azriel sighed, taking a step away. Maybe it had not affected her as it did him. Maybe he had imagined her heart beating quicker. Maybe he imagined the blush on her face.

It was not a big deal, he wanted to tell himself.

But he knew that it was. A very big deal. At least to him.

But still, he bowed his head, offered her a smile. Motioned for her to speak.

“See you next week, shadowsinger.” She mumbled with a sweet smile. She didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the one shadow that had refused to leave her side the entire outing and was now wound around her wrist.

He watched her go, feeling the need to say something but fearing it wouldn't be enough.

It had never been before.

He had never been. Not for himself, not for anyone.

But, for Gwyn, could he ever be?

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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