#and snag's new dresses and tights | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dazed-and-confused23 · 10 months ago

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Dear Hearts and Gentle People 4

Summary: After their reunion at the Atomic Wrangler, Cooper decides that he wants more than just a quickie out of his wandering trader.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings. Drug use and Alcohol. Fluff and Smut. Little longer than the other ones ❤️

DHGP Masterlist

Cooper sits on the side of the bed, inhaler in hand as he stares down at the chem. You are still asleep behind him, body tangled in the sheets, exhausted after the exciting reunion between the two of you. You had been a breath of fresh air for the ghoul, especially after finding out the truth behind the fate of his family, and then Lucy, the vaultie, had left him too. Gone back home to her vault to save them from those goddamn Bud's Buds.

Cooper had elected to stay in Vegas. He likes the city, and the booze was cheap, and the chems were even cheaper if you knew where to get them. However, now that the ghoul was borderline sober, and with you by his side, Cooper realized that he'd had something to look forward to. To live for again. You.

Every time the two of you had crossed paths, you never failed to send the ghoul's black heart racing. You were a wastelander through and through, but you were good, and Cooper didn't want to let that go. No. He would hold on tight, and nothing in heaven or hell would get him to let you go.

First thing first, however, was to show you that he was serious and that he cared for you beyond a quick fuck and drug transactions. Cooper turned in the bed and leaned over you, tucking his knuckle under your chin and kissing you until you woke up. A soft sigh escaped you when the ghoul pulled away, and you opened your eyes to see him above you.

"Well, that's one way to wake a girl up," you murmur, and shift to your back, opening your arms so that Cooper can fall against your chest, his face pressed in the crook of your neck. You hum softly and press a kiss to his bald head, "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Cooper buries himself against you, shoving his arms under you so that he can hold you close. He listens to your heartbeat, and the sound of content he makes sounds more like a cat purr than anything else. He debates with himself before deciding to hell with it.

"Let me take you out. On a proper date," He began, and the more he spoke, the more he felt like his old self, Cooper Howard, before the end of the world, "You deserve it after everything you've done for me."

You eyed him, though your lips were already turning up at the idea. Who knew your ghoul was such a romantic? You tilt your head to the side, "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

Cooper rises to his elbow and admires how your hair halos around your face. You are beautiful, even sleepy-eyed, and dressed in nothing but your panties.

"We're in Vegas, Baby. Let's make the most of it."

~~~~~

Mick and Ralph's had a surprising number of preserved prewar clothing, and you picked through the dresses looking for the perfect fit. You spotted a cute, blue number that would hug you in all the right places and billow out at the waist. Mick even had a cute pair of kitten heels that he gave you on the house.

Cooper had also done some digging around and conveniently found one of his old set costumes. The colors were faded, but they looked brand new compared to the get-up he always wore. Dressed to impress, the ghoul admired himself in the cracked mirror. If you ignored the obvious, Cooper looked like he'd just come off set of A Man and His Dog.

He wold whistles when you step out of the back room, and even though you're custom to his flirty behavior, you still blush bright and give Cooper a tiny grin. You've never had an opportunity to wear something so nice before, and it made you feel different, but not in a bad way.

"Well, look at you, Darlin'. All dressed up and beautiful for little ol' me," He crooned and snagged your hand, spinning you in a slow circle so that he could admire you from all angles. You give him a smile so full of fond amusement that Cooper’s heart stutters in his chest.

"Only for you, Cowpoke," you say and curl your hand behind his head to tug him down for a quick kiss that Cooper melts into.

After paying Mick and Ralph, Cooper escorts you to the gate of the Strip where the securitrons let the two of you by after flashing the passports you'd paid the shop owners for. Inside, the flashing neon lights made you squint, and you did your best to take it all in at once.

"A lot's changed since the last time I've been here," Cooper comments and casts his gaze around. It's been over two hundred years, but the Vegas Strip still felt the same. The two of you bypass Gomorrah and the Ultra Lux, and instead, head for the Tops where a man with blonde, slicked-back hair greets them with a suave grin.

"Hey, hey cats. My name is Swank. Welcome to the Tops Casino. The floor is open, and Tommy's got some real class acts tonight on stage if you're interested."

The two of you hand over any weapons that couldn't be concealed and head upstairs to the theater. A live band is playing on stage, and a place has been cleared in the middle of the room for dancing. Cooper leads you to a corner booth and drops to kiss your brow before he lopes off to order you both a drink.

From there, the night goes off without a hitch. The two of you drink til you feel tipsy and brazen enough to tug the ghoul out to the dance floor where Cooper upstages you and everyone else there. He twirls and dips you, leaving you a giggling mess and eyes only for him.

At some point, Cooper gets the grand idea to spend some caps on some chips, and you stand beside him as he cleans the blackjack table, coming away with more chips that you have to help him carry back to the exchange desk. The two of you eventually stumble out of the Tops and mosied back down the road to Gomorrah.

Their weapons are confiscated once more, and Cooper pays the receptionist for a hotel room for later on. He doubted that they would be sober enough to leave this place later on.

His hunch was right hours later when the two of you stumbled to the elevator. Coop's arm is tight around your waist, holding you close to keep you from tipping over. You cling to him, giggling as you wind your arms around his neck, and he catches your eyes, glassy from the jet that one of the dancers had given you.

"Your eyes are so pretty, ya know that?" You slur, and Cooper snickers as he leads you out of the elevator and down the hall to the room he'd rented. He's not nearly as gone as you, but he chalks that up to being used to the substance abuse.

You plop on the bed and reach back for the zipper of your dress, feeling too constricted in the blue fabric, and get stuck with it halfway off. Cooper laughs at you and comes to help, tugging the dress away and tossing it behind him before he pounces.

His lips meet yours in a slow kiss, a gentle give and take that turns heated when you bite his lip hard enough to hurt. You sooth it with your tongue, and groan when Cooper curls his own around the slippery muscle, the kiss wet and sloppy. He looms over you, keeping himself propped up with his elbow, while his other hand grips your waist, and rocks his hips down.

Cooper groans into the kiss when his clothed cock meets the heat between your thighs. You buck against him, whining into the kiss and demanding he take his damn pants off already.

"Patience, young grasshopper," Cooper rumbles above you and slides off the bed to button his shirt and jeans. He folds them almost reverently before he turns back to the bed and crawls on top of you, "Great things come to those who wait."

You scoff at him, though your lips are tilted up in amusement, "I've been waiting forever, Coop."

Your legs fall open and wrap around his waist. You are so wet that the ghoul can see slick glistening in the low light of the room where it clings to your puffy folds. He swallows harshly when you reach down and spread them, giving him an excellent view of your clit and twitching hole.

"Now I want you to fuck me like you mean it."

Cooper doesn't need to be told twice and spits in his hand before wrapping it around his cock and stroking himself twice before he lines up and sinks down to his balls. Your cunt throbs around him, pulling him impossibly closer, and he falls forward, hips humping forward as you cling to him.

Coop fucks you like it's his last day on Earth. He shifts to his knees, and his cock slips even further, pressing against something inside you that makes stars shatter. You curse loudly, Cooper’s name falling from your lips like a mantra as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and bends you over. The new position makes it hard to breathe, but all you want is more.

"'M close," Cooper grunts in your ear, and you lock your knees around his head, meeting him thrust for thrust as you work for your release. He unlocks his jaw and bites into the hollow of your throat. The pain is enough to send you over the edge, your pussy fluttering and gushing around the ghoul's cock.

"Ah-fuck," He snarls and follows you right over the edge, pumping you full of seed until it dribbled out from your stuffed cunt. He finds your lips kissing you as he rides out his orgasm, hips jerking when you tighten around him.

Cooper lays there, breathing you in and curling his arms tight around your waist. He is far too tired to move, and you don't seem to mind the extra weight with how tightly you hold him back. The ghoul feels at peace as if a part of his life he'd been missing has slotted back into place. He raises his head just enough to catch your eyes, and you reward him with an adoration-filled smile, but it's your words that cause his heart to explode like an atomic bomb.

"I love you."

You don't expect Cooper to pull you in for another kiss, this one soft and slow. He rests his brow against yours and wonders how he ever made it this far without you.

"I love you, too."

Holy moly, that got way sweeter than I intended. I hope you enjoyed it!❤️

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people #fallout x reader

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biteyoubiteme · 8 months ago

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fit check

fem!reader x choi yeonjun x huening kai

synopsis: yeonjun buys you some new clothes and wants you to try them on for him and huening.

warnings: 🔞!!! established relationship, throuple/poly, no mxm, threesome, praise, nipple play, oral (f!rec), fingering, multiple orgasms (f!rec), overstim, unprotected sex, creampie, use of the name baby, she/her used. prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3k

an: this is kinda a part two of busy signal but you don't need to read that to read this or the other way around. feedback appreciated :)) [m.list]

“Did one of you order something huge?” you ask using your foot to push in the box that you had to sign for. it was heavy enough that you didn’t even want to try and carry it in your arms.

Kai and Yeonjun are laid out on the couch, both of them paying no attention to the TV in front of them as they scroll on their phones. you had been studying in the office coming out for a second to grab some water when the knock came for the delivery.

“I didn’t,” Kai pipes up his phone illuminating him from the nose up, he is clutching one of the oversized stuffies he keeps on the couch.

you push the box into their view and Yeonjun sits up a grin taking over his face. “I did,” he tosses his phone down on the couch forgetting about it as he moves to pick up his keys from the hook by the door. the little fox charm dangling from his fist as he uses the key to cut the tape open.

inside is another box, matte black and tied with a bow. Yeonjun hands you his keys to replace as he pulls this box out to set down on the coffee table.

The three of us are now only interested in seeing the contents inside. it wasn’t unusual for any one of us to receive a box but usually not this big. Yeonjun sits back down waving at you to follow suit and take your usual seat between the two of them, placing the box right in front of you. huening pulled himself up to give you room so as not to sit on his outstretched legs.

“Open it,” Yeonjun says, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“me?” and he chuckles. “I got you a gift, open it,”

you can’t help but grin as you grab the end of the ribbon on the front, “it’s not something that will jump out and scare me is it?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, at least not without recording your reaction,” you roll your eyes flipping the lid of the box up. you’re met with tissue paper folded neatly and secured with a sticker the label for a designer brand. the size of the box meaning it wasn’t a small bill. “Go on,” he nudged you after you paused. you try to tear the paper as little as possible folding it back to see the folded garments inside.

there had to be about three full outfits in there, your fingers dragging over the fabrics. “oooo” Kai hums as you pull out a pleated skirt dark gray and heavy.

“I saw a campaign for their new collection and all I could think about was you wearing all this,” he pulls out a soft sweater as Kai reaches in and pulls out a sheer pair of tights. “go try it on,”

you take the sweater from him standing to take it into the other room. “don’t forget these,” Kai says, passing over the tights.

Yeonjun loves to dress you up, picking outfits, and having a little fashion show in the living room wasn’t uncommon but it still always made you nervous to know they were waiting in the other room for you. All their attention ready to be placed on you.

you were currently dressed in your pajamas nearly ready to turn in for bed after your studying. when you pull off your sleep shirt to replace it with the sweater you don’t move to put on a bra. your gentle pulling on the thin tights making sure not to snag them with your nails. and when you pull on the skirt you realize how short it is. it only just barely covers your ass if you leaned over you would flash anyone behind you.

when you make it back out to the living room your hands are laced in front of you a bit shy. Yeonjun is leaning back with his arm thrown over the back of the sofa, Kai holding his stuffie to his stomach, hands on his elbows hugging it. their gaze makes your cheeks heat, “come here,” Yeonjun beacons leaning forward so he can lean his elbows on his knees.

your stockinged feet feel cold against the hardwood as you try not to slip from how silky the tights are. Yeonjun reaches out once you’re close enough, his hot hand sliding from the back of your knee up your thigh until it cups the flesh of your ass under the skirt. you shiver, reaching out to place your hands on his shoulders. “It's kinda short,” you whisper, not realizing it would come out so breathy but Yeonjuns fingers are long enough to brush your inner thigh, high enough to almost graze your center.

“I like it,” Kai’s voice is throaty and he swallows to try and clear it. when you look at him he’s pink from his cheeks to his ears.

“do you?” you twist your hips just enough to make the fabric sway but the move makes Yeonjuns fingers slip right against your clothed core. Yeonjuns smirk cocky as he squeezed your inner thigh. He knows that look on your face like the back of his hand. that gleam in your eyes telling him everything he needs to know, kai noticed it too. the way you were pressing your knees together trying to trap Yeonjuns hand from moving further up, to the way your grip on his shoulders was tightening.

If Yeonjun did inch higher he would find that you were growing wet under their inspection. Yeonjuns free hand cups your hip, thumb pressing hard into you. “open,”

The single word is a demand that makes your knees weak. you shake your head and Yeonjun raises his eyebrows. “worried to make a mess all over your new tights?” if you could blush harder you would. “because I don’t care,” his fingers slip higher even without you opening your legs for him. you want to be embarrassed by how wet you are and he has barely touched you at all because you know he can feel your arousal through the thin material of the tights and your panties. The grin he gives while running his tongue along the inside of his cheek only makes it worse.

“huening how wet do you think she already is?” he doesn’t need to look over to know Kai’s watching the two of you. Yeonjun is too busy gauging your reaction to the painstakingly slow drags of his fingers.

“soaking,” the word a breath in the room. Someone had turned off the TV before you came back in after changing.

“why don’t you let huening feel hum?” and then his hands are gone. Your whine is unnoticed as he taps your ass to tell you to listen to him.

you walk over to Kai who’s biting his inner lip ready to draw blood. “Do you want to touch me hyuka?”

he doesn’t answer before he reaches out for you. thumb sliding under the skirt and circling your clit. the sensation races up your spine and you grab his forearm to still yourself.

Yeonjun stands behind you pushing your hair to the side to kiss behind your ear. you can feel how hard he is as he leans into you, his hands going under your sweater to cup your breasts.

At the same time he pinches your nipples Kai flicks your clit. you jump nails digging into Kai’s arm, Yeonjun kissing down your neck to your shoulder. Kai goes back to rubbing soft circles in apology.

Yeonjun lifts the sweater off of you, tossing it back into the box still filled with the forgotten outfits you hadn’t tried yet. Yeonjun takes all your hair into a ponytail before tugging your head back onto his shoulder giving Kai full access to your uncovered tits. Kai has no hesitation before wetting his lips and sucking marks on your skin, his teeth grazing your nipples. Yeonjuns voice hot in your ear, “Lay down on huening and I’ll take care of you okay?”

you nod hurriedly as he lets you go, Kai leaning back against the armrest of the couch. He opens his legs to fit you against him, your back to his chest, his lips to your temple.

he’s achingly hard wedged under you, hands cupping your breasts and tugging your nipples as Yeonjun takes off his shirt. he leans down on the couch between your legs pushing up your skirt and when you think he’s going to tug down your tights and panties he instead hooks his fingers in at the crotch of the fabric and rips the thin material.

“jjunie!” your hand shoots out to grab him but the damage is done. “I liked those,” you pout but Yeonjun only laughs lips on your thigh and the reverberation is a direct link to your clit. “I bought you three pairs,”

“it’s wasteful-“ but you can’t finish your sentence when he pushes your panties aside and gives a hard suck to your clit. your head lobs back and you moan into Kai’s ear.

“Look at you, so responsive to our touch,” Kai kisses your throat, “and you sound so pretty,” another whimper leaves you as Yeonjun flicks his tongue.

Yeonjun pulls away and you try to raise your hips to follow him but Kai reaches out a hand to lay flat against your stomach pushing you down. you whimper wiggling against his hold but it only makes him moan in response to the feel of you rubbing against his cock, almost painful.

Yeonjun lets his tongue barely touch you, bushing your folds up and down before ghosting his lips in the same way. you’re squirming and he grips your thighs hard. “patience baby or do I need to stop?”

“no please jjunie I need you,” and you twitch as he leans back down to give a feather-light kiss to your clit. Your cry in frustration makes them both chuckle.

Yeonjuns teeth brush against your inner thigh as he cups the back of your knee pushing your legs wider. He nips on your skin right over the ripped fabric of the tights before his fingers shock you by gathering your slick.

He's gentle as he rubs you tracing your entrance before going back up to your clit. the moment he puts his mouth back on you, you know you’re going to cum. he knows it too and it’s why he’s not doing it yet. “please junnie,” you rock your hips forward as best as you can with Kai holding you in place.

Yeonjun ignores you circling your entrance before plunging in. You’re breathless as he pumps in slowly trying to get you used to the feeling before he curls his fingers tapping against the spot that makes your brain stop working. one of your hands reaches up to twist your fingers in Kai’s hair the other reaches down to grip Kai’s wrist. the way that he’s pushing down on your pelvis makes Yeonjuns fingers feel incredible.

Yeonjun gives slow strokes stopping every once in a while to press on your magic gummy spot until he finally latches onto your clit again, sucking until you see stars.

you’re completely trembling and weak as you cum, Kai tugging on your left nipple his mouth behind your ear. Yeonjun doesn’t stop until you’re tearing up and when he does he gives each mark he made on your thigh a kiss.

you’re breathing hard as Kai rubs up and down your ribs with his right hand. you hear the sound of Yeonjuns belt buckle being undone and you lazily watch as he strips.

veiny cock already leaking precum as he takes it into his hand still wet from your juices. your legs instantly widen at the sight, pussy clenching around nothing.

yeonjun drinks in the sight of you spread out and ready for him, he won’t last long.

He climbs over you and Kai presses his face into your neck. “you’re going to take everything I give you right?”

“yes,” your breathy response is lost in a moan as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds.

he pushes in without warning completely bottoming out in one thrust stilling as he gives a guttural moan against your skin. kai’s hand snakes down between you and Yeonjun, tapping your clit making you clench around Yeonjun. “if you keep doing that I won’t be able to move,” and you don’t know who he’s talking about and you don’t care because he pulls out slowly before slamming right back in.

Your body jolting against Kai’s cock makes him whine the hold he has on your nipple is sharp and painful but it’s a direct line to your impending orgasm.

yeonjun doesn’t slow his pace for a second, his hands on the sides of both you and Kai’s heads as he drills into you.

kai rubs at your clit and you’re shaking all over again, tears leaking from the overstimulation. you cum in a silent gasp yeonjun pressing his mouth on yours to catch your breath. the feeling of you milking him sending him over the edge stilling all movement as he shoots hot cum deep inside you. He moans into your mouth giving weak strokes as he rides out his high.

When he finally pulls out you can feel your combined release slipping down your folds and onto Kai’s sweatpants.

you feel limp but yeonjun picks you up to let Kai move from underneath you. He pulls himself up to sit against the couch properly, yeonjun brushing your hair back from your face. your legs are completely weak and trembling as you try to weigh down on them but yeonjun guides you to straddle huening. “You can’t neglect Kai, I'm sure you can take one more load can’t you?” but when your knees hit the couch you fall over kai wrapping your arms around his head and tangling your fingers into his hair. you’re still dripping onto his pants as you give a nod.

Kai's hands are wrapped around your waist holding you up before he reaches down to tug his cock free. when it bumps your clit you jolt up your cry pressed right into his ear.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby, I promise,” he kisses your bicep before notching himself at your entrance and pushing upwards as slowly as possible, your pussy already swollen. Yeonjun and Kai are nearly the same size, only Kai is slightly girthier making the stretch noticeable. you’re holding onto Kai for dear life but once he fully settles into you you’re vibrating, trembling, and ready to cum in a breath of a second.

Kai holds your hips steady before pulling out all the way. He inches back in and your head lobs back in a moan from the corner of your eye you see yeonjun fisting himself already hard again.

huening feels like he’s pressed right against your cervix, brushing so deep you want to just sit still because even without thrusting you could cum from the feel of him.

kai’s fingers are digging into your skin hard enough to bruise as he tries to keep his steady pace but you know he wants to go faster. “it’s okay hyuka I can take it,” you try to nod to make yourself believe your words but you don’t know if your legs can take it.

“Can you?” because he’s not sure he believes it but when you give him another okay he can’t resist any longer.

without pulling out he flips the two of you so that you’re on your back, head resting on the plushie he had been using to hide his hard on the second you walked out in that tiny skirt. he leans back to tug off his sweatshirt balling it up to tuck under your lower back. The movement sends him deeper into you and he folds a choked moan leaving him as he feels your hot warm walls surrounding him, his pelvis pressed into yours.

feeling yeonjun fuck you was almost torture if you had moved anymore against Kai’s cock he would have cum instantly. and now you’re looking over huening shoulder to see yeonjun trying to restrain himself from cumming again.

you’re so easy to slip in and out of, so wet and slippery Kai gets lost in pounding into you. the room is filled with the choir of your combined moans. kai ravages your pussy chasing his orgasm, pumping over and over again like it’s the last thing he will do. you’re so sensitive and full that you’re falling over the edge again in seconds.

The scratching down Kai’s back and the feel of your orgasm makes him stutter in his thrusts before he unloads his warmth in you. he grabs the back of your knee lifting your leg making you cry as he sinks his hips deeper before stilling completely inside you.

when he pulls out you’re so beaten you hadn’t noticed yeonjun had followed the two of you to your climax and was laid back with cum all over his stomach.

kai keeps your leg raised as he prods at your still throbbing pussy, dragging your lips aside to watch as your combined arousal spills out with each residual pulse. with one long finger he scoops up the cream before shoving it back inside you. “the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen,”

yeonjun stands gazing over you, “the prettiest,” he agrees before dragging his finger through the mess he made on himself. kai pulls his finger out before yeonjun shoves his in. You jerk back as he pumps in his cum as if he wasn’t already staining your insides. He takes his hand away tugging your panties into place.

“Let's get you cleaned up and then we can see the rest of the outfits I picked out for you, yeah?”

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serpentandlily · 1 year ago

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Mystique - Azriel x Reader

Summary: When the whole family is dragged to the new ballet show in Velaris, Mystique, Azriel never imagined a mating bond snapping into place...but as soon as she stepped on stage, he knew his life was about to change forever.

Warnings: mention of strict dieting of a dancer

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Going to see a ballet show was not how Azriel planned to spend his Saturday night, or any night really. Arts and theater were not something he was usually interested in. But Feyre had begged the whole family to go, claiming she had bought a private booth in the gallery for them to watch their opening night show.

Elain had been the first to agree, so he followed along. If only to spend some time with her, to watch her face light up as she watched the performance.

Mystique. That was the name of the show they were seeing tonight. He had no idea what it was about or what to expect. But he didn’t care. Not as he snagged the seat next to Elain and brushed his fingers against hers as she gave him a secret smile.

The lights had dimmed and the audience fell quiet. It was a full house tonight, no seat below in the orchestra empty. Even the other private booths in the gallery were filled with rich nobles.

He understood the name of the ballet once it started. All the dancers were wearing masquerade masks. That was about the only interesting thing about it. His eyes flickered from the stage to Elain every so often, more enthralled with her than the dancers.

But then she came on stage. The main dancer partnered with some male. Her costume was a light pink, bejeweled with gems and flowers, with a tutu that showed off her long legs. It was the gleam of the jewels that had caught his attention, shining brightly in the faelights.

And then his eyes had drifted up, to the pink mask that matched the costume and the dancer beneath it.

He knew she was special the moment he laid eyes on her. Not because of the elegant, graceful way she moved on stage, or how she seemed to have captured the rapt attention of the audience. No, she was special because she was her.

His eyes didn’t leave her figure after that. Constantly following her movements as she danced around the stage alongside the male and the other dancers, always standing out.

When the show ended and the performers came out for applause and shouts from the house, he knew his life was about to change forever.

Because when she came out holding hands with her partner, bowing before the crowd masks off, a gold thread from his chest unraveled and the mating bond snapped into place.

If it wasn’t for his years of training, of all the time he perfected his craft as the spymaster, he wouldn’t have been able to keep such a cool demeanor. He gave no indication to his family, said nothing as the dancers disappeared behind the curtains and everyone rose to leave.

“That was beautiful!” Elain chirped from next to him and he almost jumped. He had forgotten she was there.

All he could think about was her. The dancer. His mate. His beautiful, beautiful mate.

꒰ა❤︎໒꒱

Opening night had been a success and the second show had gone off without a hitch as well. Your legs and feet were so sore as you made your way back to the dressing rooms with the other gaggle of girls, already yanking the pins out of your hair.

You rubbed at your scalp, soothing the tightness from the bun your hair had been in, as you walked up to your mirror on the long vanity table. You paused for a moment at the sight of a single rose lying beneath the mirror on the table. That had definitely not been there at the beginning of the show tonight.

You picked it up, twirling the stem in your fingers. The faintest scent still clinging to it was foreign from the sweet smell of rose. A hint of cedar and night-chilled mist, a very masculine smell.

“What’s that?” your friend, Lena, asked, peering over your shoulder at the rose in your hand.

“I’m not sure,” you mumbled.

“Oooohhh,” some of the girls around you giggled and your cheeks turned pink at all the attention. “Are you hiding a male from us, y/n?”

You shook your head. “No, no. It must’ve been for one of the other girls. Probably didn’t know which mirror was hers.”

Your dismissal had the other girls turning back around, no longer interested now that there was no gossip to be shared. You wished you knew who the rose was for so you could give it to her but there was no note or anything—just that faint smell.

The next night you were met with another rose beneath your mirror. You frowned as all the girls giggled behind you. Had the male still not realized his girlfriend had never gotten his rose?

“I think you might have a secret admirer,” Lena said, grinning at you.

“I don’t think so. Maybe we should all label our mirrors,” you suggested. “I’d hate for these roses to keep going to the wrong girl.”

“I think Lena is right,” one of the other girls said. “I think y/n has a secret admirer!”

You rolled your eyes, plopping down in your chair to start the long process of ripping the pins from your hair and taking off your stage make-up. “How would they even know where I sat? And a stranger would never be allowed back here.”

“Let’s do what you said then and write our names on the mirrors. Then we can find out who’s the true owner of the roses,” Lena said. She pulled out a tube of lipstick and wrote her name on the corner of the mirror before spreading the lipstick on her lips and kissing the spot she had just signed.

She handed the tube of lipstick over to you and you laughed, doing the same as her.

꒰ა❤︎໒꒱

"Alright, it's official. Y/n has a secret admirer!"

Your mouth dropped open as the group of girls giggling around your mirror parted and you saw another red rose on the vanity. You picked it up carefully, glancing up at your mirror to make sure your name was still written there.

The girls around you were still giggling, some making kissy noises as your cheeks lit up with embarrassment. That scent was clinging to the rose, the cedar and night-chilled mist. You took a small inhale, finding the smell to be so tantalizing.

"Any idea who it could be?" Lena asked from beside you.

You shook your head. "No, it's not like I've had time to go out between rehearsals and the show. I haven't met anyone new in the past few months."

It was true. Your mother, one of the ballet teachers here in Velaris, kept you on a tight leash. Between classes, rehearsals and show nights, you didn't go out. Mother always said anything else was a distraction and that ballet involved sacrifices if you wanted to be a principal dancer. A role you had finally landed this season, which meant you were even more busy.

Besides, you hadn't ever been with a male like that. You had barely just turned twenty and had spent your whole childhood in ballet studios with your mother. The males that were part of those classes usually swung for the other team and the few that were into girls were usually snatched up quickly by the others.

"How do you think he's even getting into the dressing rooms?" you mumbled to Lena, who shrugged before a mischievous grin spread on her face.

"Maybe we should ask one of the understudies to hang around here during the next show so they can catch him in the act. I'm dying to know who it is," she said.

"Not a bad idea," one of the other girls chimed in.

"I’ll ask Helena. She's still nursing her sore ankle from her fall,” you replied, placing the rose into your satchel to take home. Pretty soon you’d have a whole bouquet.

꒰ა❤︎໒꒱

“No one?! But how is that even possible?”

You stared at the new rose on the vanity before you. Helena had stalked out the dressing room but she claimed no one had ever entered.

“I don’t know, but I’m telling you, no one came in here,” Helena said back to Lena.

“And you stayed in here the whole time?”

Helena rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, I stepped out at one point to talk to Nicholas but I swear, my eyes were on the door the whole time! No one went in or came out!”

“Maybe they winnowed?” One of the girls suggested.

You shook your head. “This place is warded from that. Set up by our High Lord himself. There’s no way someone could break through those.”

“Perhaps we have a phantom on our hands,” one of the other girls laughed. “A romantic with a crush on y/n.”

All the girls fell into a fit of giggles as your cheeks turned bright red. You scowled at them, feeling a little embarrassed.

Maybe someone was pulling a prank on you? But who would do that? You didn’t think any of the girls would be that cruel but…

Your mind was not going to rest until you found out who was putting these roses here.

꒰ა❤︎໒꒱

The next day you were rushing through the very busy streets of Velaris, trying to get to the ballet studio. You had slept in on accident and you were going to be late for rehearsal, something that might lead to your understudy taking over your role. Ballet teachers were strict like that, would see being late as a lack of self discipline and an uncaring attitude.

You sprinted around a corner only to smack right into the chest of someone. You let out a gasp, your ballet bag falling to the floor along with your folder full of sheet music for the pianist.

“Watch where you’re going!” The Fae you had run into hissed, stepping over the strewn papers on the floor.

You were definitely going to be late now. You bit your lip, trying to fight back tears as you bent down and started to collect everything. You were so in your head that you didn’t notice the person kneeling in front of you until they were holding out a stack of the music sheets for you.

“Thank you so much!” You said quickly, grabbing the papers and looking up to see who had stopped to help you.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the most beautiful male you had ever laid eyes on. His piercing hazel eyes bore into yours, his dark hair brushing against his forehead as he looked down at you, despite both of you kneeling on the ground. Giant wings sprouted from his back, hiding the sight of the bustling crowd.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was dark, just like the shadows that were now curling around his shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized who he was. The shadowsinger. One of the fae in Rhysand’s inner court.

You cleared your throat when you realized you had been staring at him for a minute too long, your cheeks turning pink.

You shoved the papers back into the folder and grabbed your bag off the ground, standing back up. “Yes, thank you, I’m fine. It was my fault anyways. I was rushing because I’m late for rehearsal and my mother is going to kill me if I lose my role and—”

You shut your mouth as you realized you had started rambling. To his credit, Azriel didn’t seem annoyed. No, he looked more concerned as he stared down at you and Gods, now you were realizing how tall he was.

“Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m y/n,” you said, hugging your folder against your chest. “You’re Azriel, right, the spymaster?”

He nodded in answer, his shadows dancing on his shoulders.

“Would you like me to take you wherever it is you need to go? I can get you there faster.”

You were still mesmerized by his elegant beauty; he was so devastating to look at. You hadn’t even heard a word he had just said. Gods, you were absolutely embarrassing yourself. “Huh?”

He seemed amused now, faint color on his cheeks. “I asked if you would like me to take you wherever you need to go. My shadows let me travel faster than most fae.”

“Oh please, if you could! I just need to get to the ballet studio.”

You didn’t have time to deny his request, didn’t think twice of it through the panic of running late. He held out his arm for you and you placed your hand in the crevice of his elbow. His shadows surrounded you both until you were in complete darkness.

It was a different feeling than winnowing, something you still had yet to learn how to do. But the feeling of traveling through Azriel’s shadows was slightly calming.

Not a second later, the two of you appeared in front of the ballet studio, saving you the ten minute walk. You let out a breath of relief knowing that you weren’t going to be late anymore.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” you chimed, untangling your arm from his.

He gave you a small dip of the head when suddenly a familiar scent washed over you. It took you a second to place it but…No, it couldn’t be, right? It wasn’t the same smell as the one that lingered on the roses?

But that cedar and night-chilled mist smell was unmistakable.

Azriel was disappearing in a swarm of shadows when you waved a hand at him, shouting at him to wait so you could ask him about the roses but he vanished from view, leaving you standing on the side of the street alone with a million questions running through your head.

꒰ა❤︎໒꒱

Another week went by and still every night after the show, a rose was waiting for you at your vanity. The same scent of cedar and night-chilled mist still faintly clinging to them. You hadn’t seen Azriel again since that day and part of you was certain you had mistakenly thought he smelled like the mysterious stranger leaving you roses.

You were stretching your feet out, getting ready to do your warm-up before the show when the Head Teacher walked in, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Listen up, girls!” she shouted so everyone could hear her. “I have an important announcement to make. The High Lady loved our show so much she’s inviting the entirety of the Royal Ballet to a dinner at The House of Wind to celebrate our hard work. This is an honor and I expect you all to treat it as such. Next rehearsal, you all need to bring a dress that you plan to wear to the dinner so they can be approved by me. Now, back to work, girls!”

As soon as she left the room, the chattering began. Everyone was excited about the news, mostly to have an excuse to dress up but your thoughts were stuck on the shadowsinger, at the chance to see him again and as weird as it sounded, see if his scent matched the stranger who was leaving you roses.

꒰ა❤︎໒꒱

You stared at yourself in the mirror, twirling around. Your mother had picked your dress like the controlling person she was, but for once, you actually liked her choice. It was a light pink gown, with a long A line tulle skirt and a corseted bodice with off the shoulder straps. The fabric was covered with stars that shined like diamonds and some pearl detailing.

“Come, y/n,” your mother called out from the living room of the apartment you both lived in. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

You met the rest of the girls at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the House of Wind. The High Lord and Lady had assured you guys that transportation up to the House would be provided. The girls were all giggling with anticipation, gossiping together about what to expect.

Four winged figures swept down in front of your group. The High Lord was one of them, dressed finely in all black with his huge wings held high behind him. The High Lady was next to him, dressed in dark blue harem pants with a matching crop top, both decorated with sparkling jewels. The General, Cassian, stood behind them wearing his Illyrian leathers, arms crossed with a friendly smile on his face.

And lastly, the Spymaster. He stood next to his fellow Illyrian, also in his leathers, and looked just as devastatingly beautiful as that day he had taken you to the ballet studio. His wings were giant, even more so than the other three, making him look like a dark angel. Your cheeks turned pink as his gaze met yours and you bit your lip, looking away.

“Ladies,” the High Lord purred in greeting. “We are pleased that you accepted our invitation. The House of Wind is warded against winnowing, so we are here to fly you up. It is a short flight, but if any of you are uncomfortable with the idea, we will try to accommodate you.”

You watched as the girls exchanged looks with each other, giggling and turning a bit red at the idea. You found your eyes going back to the shadowsinger, jolting as you realized he was still staring at you. Something jumped in your chest, causing your pulse to spike.

“Now, who wants to be the first to go?” The High Lord stepped forward and held out his hand.

Lena winked at you and was the first to volunteer. The High Lady also held out her hand with a smile. “I can also fly some of you up. I promise I’m just as strong as the boys.”

Slowly, one by one, the girls from your company paired with the four winged faes, letting them fly them up to the House. It was a quick process; Rhysand hadn’t lied when he said it was a short flight. You hung around in the back of the group, feeling a bit nervous as you watched them disappear into the sky each time.

You had never been that high up in the air before, a bit of anxiety curling in your stomach.

“Lady,” the General was in front of you now and you realized you were one of the only girls left to go. “Are you ready to be flown up?”

He held out a hand to you but you bit your lip, looking up at the House of Wind again. “I-I’m just a bit nervous.”

“It’ll be over quick, I promise,” he grinned, trying to settle your nerves.

You hesitated again and suddenly the Spymaster was there, gently nudging his brother to the side. Cassian glanced at him in question.

“I’ll take her, Cass,” Azriel said, looking at you. Something about his hazel eyes had your shoulders falling. “I can use my shadows so she doesn’t have to fly.”

That seemed like enough of an explanation for Cassian because he stepped aside and moved on to the next girl who was still waiting.

“Your shadows can get past the wards?” you asked, curiously. You glanced at the shadows that seemed to be dancing around his shoulders.

“Yes, they can,” he answered simply. Azriel held out his arm to you, just as he had that day. You took it gently and waited for the shadows to cover you.

If his shadows could get past the wards of one of the High Lord’s residences, then they could absolutely get past the ones around the theater’s dressing rooms. Which could mean he really was the stranger leaving you roses.

“I just want you to know I didn’t want to fly not because your wings scare me but because of the height,” you said, feeling the need to make that clear. Azriel glanced down at you with an unreadable expression and you suddenly felt even more nervous. “In fact, I think your wings are quite beautiful and I would never—”

You closed your mouth sharply, realizing that you were both rambling again and also that you guys were now in the dining room, where everyone else was taking a seat. You blushed and stepped away from him. “Thank you.”

He dipped his head and gestured towards the dining table without a word. You gave him a nervous smile as you scurried past him and to the seat next to where your mother was sitting, already saving you a chair. As you passed by him, you were met with that scent again. The cedar and night-chilled mist.

This time it was so unmistakable that you whirled around to look at him. But he had disappeared already, likely helping the remaining girls down below. You let out a sigh and continued on your way to your seat.

When everyone was accounted for, Azriel slid into the seat across from you and you had to keep your eyes glued to your plate to stop yourself from blatantly staring at him. Should you find a moment to ask him about the roses? Should you let him come to you? Or maybe he had been leaving the roses for you as a favor for a friend? That theory almost made more sense because the idea of the shadowsinger leaving you roses seemed so far-fetched.

All throughout dinner you managed to sneak glances at Azriel as you ate. You joined in the conversations around you but noticed that the shadowsinger didn’t talk that much, seeming much more content in just observing.

Once everyone seemed done with dinner, the High Lord snapped his fingers and it was all replaced by a huge spread of different desserts. Cakes, pastries, custards, tarts. Everything you could imagine. You didn’t get to indulge in sweets much, your mother was strict about your diet to keep you in shape as a dancer, so your eyes lit up at the sight.

You started to reach for the closest thing to you, a tiny fruit tart, but your mother slapped your hand with a hiss under her breath, “You’ve had enough to eat tonight. You know the rule about sweets.”

Your brows furrowed, upset. You placed your hands on your lap under the table, nodding. “Sorry, mother.”

She pressed her lips together and placed her napkin on her own empty plate. Your eyes lingered on what looked like a peach pie, longingly. You felt a ping of envy as you watched all the other girls trying everything.

“You should try the pie.” Azriel’s voice had your head whipping up and his eyes connected with yours. “It’s the High Lady’s favorite.”

You glanced at your mother, opening your mouth to politely decline but she cut you off.

“Well, go on,” she said, nodding towards the pie. “Don’t insult them by not eating any.”

You ground your teeth together, turning a bit pink. As if she hadn’t been the one to literally stop you from having any just a second ago. You looked back at Azriel, noting the way a muscle in his jaw clenched, and nodded your head.

“I will, thank you,” you said, eagerly taking a slice of the pie.

It was delectable and you nearly moaned as you ate it. A small smile lit up your face as you tried it.

“The High Lady has good taste,” you said to Azriel, who was still staring at you. “The pie is delicious.”

He gave you the smallest of smiles and it warmed something in your chest.

Once everyone was finished eating, the High Lord cleared the table and moved everyone towards the large sitting room. There were some servants walking around with champagne and wine, which kept the party going steady. It was exciting to be able to socialize like this and you were having a good time, especially now that you didn’t have to be glued to your mother’s side.

Your eyes roamed the room, trying to find the shadowsinger. The glass of champagne you had made you feel a bit more brave. You wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask him about the roses. It took you a minute of walking around to finally catch sight of him. He was resting against the railing outside on one of the many balconies. You glanced around, making sure no one was watching you, before you stepped outside.

He didn’t turn to look at you, not even as the door shut behind you, cutting off the noise that came from inside. It was like he already knew who had stepped out. You fiddled with your fingers, staring at his back. Some of the liquid courage was chased away by the cold breeze, but you refused to back down now that you were out here.

“You are the one who has been leaving me roses every night,” you said, quietly, walking towards him.

“I am,” he answered as you slid up next to him, grabbing the railing to keep your hands from shaking.

You were surprised at how quickly he admitted it. You were silent for a moment, staring at his profile. Under the moonlight, he was truly a vision to be seen. Your breath caught in your throat when he finally looked at you.

“I apologize if it has made you uncomfortable,” he said, his shadows seemed to hide behind his wings as if they were scared of what your response might be.

“It hasn’t,” you replied, gently. You gave him a soft smile. “They are quite beautiful. But I must ask why.”

His shadows eased, cascading down his shoulders. His lips twitched, amused by your question.

“I cannot lie to you,” Azriel said, his voice low and dark like his shadows. It sent a shiver down your spine. “I find you very beautiful, y/n. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I watched your show.”

Your eyes widened, your cheeks turning bright red. You hadn’t been expecting him to be so forthcoming. You hadn’t had much experience with males, so you fumbled with what to say back.

“Oh,” you squeaked out.

That only seemed to amuse him even more.

“Has no one told you that before?”

“Perhaps not quite so… candidly.”

His lips twitched and you felt that spark in your chest again. He shook his head a bit, tousling his hair as he turned his body fully towards you, still leaning on the railing.

“Well, now that my identity has been exposed,” Azriel said. “May I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“Y-yes,” you managed to stutter out, butterflies exploding in your stomach. Never in your dreams would you have imagined being courted by the Night Court’s spymaster.

He smiled this time and the sight of it almost knocked you off your feet.

“Good,” he said, then his hand flicked into his shadows and he pulled out a single, red rose. “For you. Since I wasn’t able to leave one tonight.”

Your heart was thumping in your chest as you reached out and took the flower from his hands. He dipped his head at you before disappearing into his shadows, leaving you alone on the balcony, twirling the rose in your hand with red cheeks and a warm feeling in your heart.

꒰ა❤︎໒꒱

A month had passed since that night on the balcony. Azriel had continued leaving you roses after each show, something the girls all cooed over. You had also found out that he had charmed them to make sure they never died. So now you had a beautiful bouquet of never-ending roses in a vase on your vanity in the dressing room and even one in your room at home.

Your first date went very well. You were surprised by how much the two of you had in common. And soon he had taken you on a second, a third, a fourth…and so on.

You found yourself falling for him….hard. He was different around you than he was with most others. More talkative, more charming and funny. His wit never failed to impress you.

Your mother wasn’t very pleased at first, especially since you hadn’t consulted her before agreeing to that first date. But once she found out it was Azriel who had asked you, she seemed pleased considering he was a high-ranking member of your court. You hated how superficial your mother was, but was happy she didn’t try to prevent you from seeing him.

You hadn’t told him just how inexperienced you were, but he was a polite and kind male. He hadn’t even tried to kiss you yet. It was like he knew your hesitations and the need to take things slow with you despite you ever telling him that. But then again, he seemed to know everything you felt, at all times. Sometimes you even wondered if he was a daemati like the High Lord, but he had only laughed when you accused him of it.

Today, Azriel had taken you out for some coffee and a small lunch after your morning rehearsal. Now the two of you were pushing through the bustling crowds on the streets, taking in the sights of the city. Your eyes lingered on a flower shop you passed by often, at the lovely moonflowers they had on display outside.

Azriel noticed what had drawn your attention and pulled you over to the shop. You took a sniff of the moonflowers, basking in their sweet scent. “So beautiful.”

“Would you like one?” Azriel asked in that voice of his that still sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled up at him, nodding your head.

“Azriel?”

You pulled your eyes away from him to look at the person who had just called out his name. The High Lady’s sister stood on the small steps leading up into the shop, a large pot in her arms and a bag full of seeds.

Her doe eyes flickered between you and Azriel, until they dropped to something below. You followed her gaze to look at your conjoined hands. You quickly let go, face turning a bit pink. You had no idea why you suddenly felt as though you had been caught doing something wrong.

“Hello Elain,” Azriel said, his voice polite but flat.

She studied him and then turned that gaze on you, her eyes narrowing a bit. You looked between her and Azriel, not really sure what was going on.

“Oh, you’re that ballerina,” she said. “I remember you, from the show.”

“This is y/n. She is my…” He paused and you shifted from foot to foot. “She is my…friend.”

Friend.

His Friend.

Something about that sentence made your heart crack into two. A weird, unpleasant feeling curled in your stomach and your smile dropped.

Friends.

Elain seemed to ignore your presence, her gaze still stuck on Azriel. “I haven’t seen you in three weeks. Where have you been?”

Azriel went to answer but you tuned the conversation out, your thoughts whirling in your mind. Friends. He said you were his friend.

Were…were you not something more?

Had you completely misjudged his intentions?

Or maybe he was tired of waiting for you to be ready for more?

Maybe he was like all the males your mother warned you about. Only interested in females if they knew they could get sex out of it.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, your breath catching in your throat. Suddenly, being here with him seemed so suffocating. Especially as he stood talking to some other girl that clearly knew him…clearly had feelings for him.

You felt like you were going to vomit. You needed to leave. Needed to catch your breath.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you managed to get out, causing the two of them to look at you. “I’m just going to go look in the shop while you guys catch up.”

You darted away before either of them could say anything, only letting out a breath when the door closed behind you. You rushed through the aisles, past the shopkeeper who was busy with another customer, until you spotted the door along the back wall. You slipped through it, into the small alleyway behind the shop.

You felt bad for ditching Azriel but he had just crushed your heart, even if he didn’t know he had it. You wiped at a tear that spilled from your eye, almost laughing at how awful you felt. You had only known him for a short period of time. Maybe it was never his intention to make you fall for him, but you did and what had been a beautiful, all-consuming joy in your chest was now suddenly an ache that made it hard to even breath.

You walked down the alleyway until you were back in the streets, sweeping through the crowd as quickly as you could to make it back to your apartment. You just wanted to get home. Just get home and then you could wallow in your own self-pity. Could cry as much as you wanted.

The crowd thinned out the closer you got to the residential area until the street was empty.

You let out a sigh, wiping yet another tear, just as your apartment building came into view. You hoisted your dance bag further up your shoulder and began the last few feet home. But a flapping of wings above you made you still, your heart lurching in your chest.

Azriel landed in front of you with a small thud, his brows furrowed with confusion and his eyes unreadable. In his hand, he held a small bunching of moonflowers.

“Y/n? Why did you leave like that?” he asked.

You bit your lip, looking away from his face.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your chin and turning your face back to him. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen?”

You wiped at your tears, frustrated that you couldn’t keep it together long enough to make him leave. You shook your head, staring at the ground. “No, nothing happened. I-I just don’t…feel good.”

Azriel studied you, his thumb swiping your cheek. You hated how much the small gesture soothed you.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said. “I know something upset you. I can feel it. What happened? Please, tell me.”

“It’s n-nothing,” you stuttered.

“Please,” he repeated, his arms falling limp at his sides. “It pains me to see you cry. What happened? You can tell me.”

You looked away from him again, rubbing your arm in discomfort. “It’s stupid. Seriously, Azriel, I’m fine. Just…just leave. Please.”

He stood up fully, his wings stretching out behind him. He crossed his arms, his expression stern. “No, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what’s wrong. Did I…Did I do something?”

Another tear slipped down your cheek and you took a deep breath. “You called me your friend.”

Azriel blinked a few times. “What?”

“To that girl you were talking to. The one you clearly have some sort of history with,” you said, begrudgingly. “You told her I was your friend and I thought…well, maybe I’m an idiot. But I thought we were more than that.”

Realization dawned over Azriel’s face and then to your surprise, the tension in his body dropped and he let out a small laugh. Your eyes narrowed at him. Was he truly going to laugh in your face after your admittance of feelings for him?

“I don’t understand what’s so funny. You’ve been taking me out on dates, leaving me roses. What else was I supposed to think—”

“No, it’s not funny,” Azriel cut you off, but he was still smiling which only pissed you off. “I mean, it is. Just not in the way you’re thinking.”

More tears slipped down your cheeks and Azriel lurched forward, placing a hand on the side of your face. “Don’t cry, please. Let me explain. You're right, y/n, you are not my friend. You are so much more than that. You have been since the day I laid eyes on you. You consume my every single thought, y/n, truly. I am relieved to hear that you share my feelings. You have no idea how much I’ve prayed to the Mother that you would feel for me, what I feel for you.”

You took a moment to fully soak in his words, the pressure in your chest easing a bit.

“Then why did you call me your friend? Who was that girl to you?”

“She’s no one, I promise you that,” he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “And I called you my friend because I almost slipped up and called you my—”

He stopped suddenly and you looked up at him in questions. “Called me your what?”

It was his turn to let out a long breath, his cheeks coloring. “My mate. My mate, y/n. You are my mate.”

Your eyes went wide, your heart frantically beating in your chest. Mate? You were his mate?

Something snapped in you then. Something that had been with you since the moment you could remember, unraveled in your chest. Your mouth dropped open as a gold thread shot out between the two of you, linking you together. You looked back up at him, at those beautiful hazel eyes that were full of joy, love and apprehension. Such vulnerability that you weren’t used to when it came to the shadowsinger.

“Mate,” you whispered. “You’re my…mate.”

He nodded, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, waiting for your reaction. That warm feeling in your chest spread throughout your whole body and you couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on your face.

Mate.

Azriel was your mate!

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into a crushing hug. Azriel let out a breath of relief, his arms grabbing you around the waist and pulling you even closer. It felt so right being in his arms. Your heart sang at your connection, at the feeling he sent down the bond.

Everything made sense now. The way he was able to always know how you were feeling, the accelerated feelings between the two of you, how right it felt to be with him—like he had been made for you and you for him.

He pulled back, holding you at arm's length so he could stare down at you.

“I have wanted you from the minute I saw you, even before the bond snapped into place,” Azriel said. “I have been searching for you my whole life, y/n. I never thought I would be blessed with a mate, and especially not you. You are so beautiful and so much more than I was expecting. There will be no one else, even if you decide you don’t want this bond. All I see is you, all I want is you. I’m sorry I made you doubt that, even for a second.”

“I want it! Of course I want it, Azriel!” You were smiling so hard, your cheeks were beginning to ache. “I…I am already falling in love with you and it has only been a month. I can’t even imagine what a lifetime might bring us.”

Azriel was smiling now too, a rare sight that had the bond in your chest glowing. He rested his forehead against yours, shutting his eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I will thank the Mother every single day I get to call you mine.”

You placed a hand on his chest, smiling up at him as he opened his eyes again to stare at you. Butterflies swarmed your stomach, your heart was pounding drums in your chest.

You needed him so much closer now. You needed to hold him, to kiss him, to hear him call you his. You were ready for that next step, ready to jump right into it.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering to his lips. “Please.”

Azriel let out a small growl. “Do you mean it?”

You nodded, shyly, staring up at him from under your lashes.

Azriel didn’t waste one more second, he leaned in and captured your lips with his. His lips were softer than you imagined, warm and tantalizing. The world seemed to fade away as you shared your first kiss with him, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind buzzing with need.

His kiss was soft and tender, making you feel at ease with him. His arm wrapped around your waist and he yanked you even closer, deepening the kiss. Time slowed down. The bond between the two of you glowed.

Finally, Azriel pulled back, locking eyes with you. He held up the moonflowers he was still holding, letting you take them as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Flowers for the pretty lady,” he teased, causing you to giggle.

He was still holding you around the waist, his other hand now slipping up into your hair. His hard body was pressed against yours, the flowers nearly crushed. He kissed you again and you felt it then, the promise he was making.

You were his mate.

And he would make sure you were his to have and to hold for the rest of eternity.

#acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar x you #azriel fluff #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #azriel x female!reader #acosf #acowar

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lisired · 11 months ago

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yani, 22, she/they

⤷ 18+ blog primarily for long nct fics. masterlist below. no requests.

⤷ revehae is my side blog where i write evil little stories that normal people will find off-putting. ireverie is the enhypen equivalent.

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⤷ JOHNNY SUH, 23k, 1/3 of the wanted: dead or alive series.

five years ago, you were part of a unit assigned to eliminate the head rival of a crime syndicate. the plan backfired miserably. ever since you have been laying low, but then your former boss calls you with alarming news.

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⤷ LEE HAECHAN, 25.5k, part one, part two

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myfictionaldreams · 2 years ago

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Something New // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: The mafia leader was known to be possessive and enjoy showing off his girl but what happens when he wants to do this by being intimate with you in front of his gang?

A/N: This is included in the Mafia!Stucky series however this is set before Bucky joined the trouble x

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub undertones, exhibitionism, edging, teasing, authority kink, desk sex, rough sex, fingering, begging, pet names, safewords in place, possessive behaviour, creampie, cockwarming

Words: 3.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Steve Rogers, the leader of the infamous Brooklyn mafia gang, woke you up with his face between your legs. Well, you were already half awake, listening to the birds chirping outside as Steve shuffled down the bed and you didn’t bother to open your eyes even as he settled onto his stomach, heavy hands pushing against the back of your thighs until you were open and bare to him.

It seemed he was in a teasing, slow mood this morning. In no rush whatsoever which only meant one thing: edging. Gentle licks, exploring, bringing you lazily to the brink of euphoria before he blew away the intense feeling.

Before your eyes had even opened for the first time that day you were a quivering, sopping mess. Mewling whilst clawing the sheets beneath to refrain from ripping Steve’s hair out through frustration at wanting to orgasm.

This was only made worse when his phone began to ring from the nightstand and instead of ignoring it like you silently prayed he would, Steve reached over and answered, still whilst lying between your legs. As he spoke to whoever it was that had called, he casually played with your clit, rolling it with the pad of his thumb, watching how your body reacted but never enough stimulation that you were on the verge of an orgasm.

Your moans didn’t dampen in noise so whoever was on the other end of the phone was sure to hear what was happening but you didn’t care, there was nothing you wanted more at that moment than to find your fulfilment.

“No worries at all Buck, we’ll be down in 10 minutes. No, you weren’t interrupting anything, it’s fine”, Steve began crawling back off of the bed as he spoke to the now-identified person on the phone. Your eyes finally snapped open as you cried out in disdain, sitting up and reaching for him but Steve just hung up the phone with a tormenting smile and tapped the side of your leg, “Come on we need to get to the office, Bucky’s waiting downstairs.”

“But- I-, wait-”, you stuttered over your words, sounding pathetic and needy which earned you a somewhat sympathetic smile from your beefy boyfriend who was gloriously naked and hard as he began to lean over to kiss your temple gently.

“Don’t wearing anything under the dress today and we might be able to continue this sooner rather than later”.

So there you were, sitting on the small lounger in the gang’s office, knees tucked under your body to hide the fact that you were pantieless, a book in hand but not reading a single word. Not as your attention was snagged on the hulking form behind the main oak desk, his ‘work face’ on which only seemed to make you more aroused with the authority that seemed to roll off of his shoulders but in other ways made you feel safe.

You watched out of the corner of your eye, the way his muscles flexed beneath his crisp white shirt and tight black dress pants, his thick fingers littered with tiny scars from the fights he’d been in, moving across the laptop with surprising speed, dreaming of them between your thighs or around your throat.

Before the two of you arrived, Steve seemed to constantly have his hands on you, whether it was leading you to the car with his warmth seeping through your dress on your lower back where he pressed. In the car, his fingers casually massaged your exposed thighs, especially as he noticed the way you couldn’t look Bucky in the eye as he’d heard your whimpers over the phone.

So now that you were sitting away from him, feeling touch starved and wanting to be close to your boyfriend, even as you tried to will your body to think about anything else like falling into the fantasy world of the book in your hand but nothing worked.

Thankfully Steve paused for lunch, asking one of his employees to go and get some fast food, craving burgers and fries and getting enough for everyone. As the food arrives and the smell wafted into your sense, Steve finally turned his attention back to you as he eased his seat away from his desk.

“Come up here baby girl”, he instructed, patting the desk in front of him, that he had just cleared the space of. Holding out his large hand, he helped you onto the cold surface, and you automatically spread your legs slightly to give him room to scoot his chair forward, which displayed your pussy to him.

Your whole body warmed instantly with embarrassment as you glanced over your shoulder to look at the gang members, realising the intimate position you were in with Steve sitting between your legs. However, no one seemed to be phased at all as they all continued working, even your new friend and bodyguard Bucky didn’t look in your direction as he ate half of his burger in one glorious bite.

Steve’s hand travelled up the outside of your thigh, leaving goosebumps in his finger's path, drawing your attention back to him. The look on his face was all you needed to know, his usually bright crystal blue eyes were now dark, his full lips moist from where he’d recently licked them and the bulge growing in his pants was evident to anyone.

“Everything alright up there?” You’re looking a little distracted?”, Steve smirked as your eyes snapped to his, away from his crotch where you’d just been staring.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to ignore the agonisingly deep ache in your core and instead plastered a fake smile on your face. “Yeah, I’m fine, just hungry”. A half lie, you were hungry but for the fast food.

“Well now, I can’t be leaving my girl hungry now, can I?”, Steve mused, startling you as his fingers brushed against the sensitive area of your inner thigh before standing quickly and leaning over to the bag of food. As he continued to tower over you, he opened the bag and took out a few fries, his lips quipping up into a smirk as he thought of an idea.

“How about we play a fun little game, to make up for earlier? I get to kiss you for every fry that I feed you”.

The sound of your heartbeat pounded in your ears, your body humming with anticipation and arousal. He was going to feed you which was an intimate touch without the kisses and fact you were still displayed before him on his desk. You didn’t need to think about it though, it was only a kiss after all and the others behind you didn’t know you’d gone without underwear today so with a smile, you perked your lips and nodded.

Steve huffed a chuckle as he leaned his weight on an arm next to you, ducking his head to peck your lips quickly before feeding you a fry directly into your mouth where you happily chewed.

Steve fed himself a handful of fries before picking up another one for you. This time he kissed the tip of your nose, which had you leaning forward trying to chase his lips, expecting him to kiss there as well but he simply fed you the next fry instead.

With each kiss, Steve picked a different location. Each of your cheeks, forehead, your chin, the backs of your hands and after every touch, he’d feed you a fry. As his mouth descended lower, your body stiffened once again remembering your location and how public it was, even though his lips felt so incredibly good grazing over your pulse point along your throat.

Your next move seemed to be on instinct like you were receiving a reward for being kissed. Instead of just opening your mouth and accepting the food, your mouth opened and tongue sticking out, eyes wide and looking up at him through your lashes. Steve sucked in a breath, his crotch moving closer to yours as he delicately placed the fry on your tongue where you moved it into your mouth and chewed slowly.

However, your actions seemed to push Steve a little further as he began to move the delicate strap of your dress off of your shoulder so that he could kiss the exposed area. The slightest bit of undressing had you coming out of the needy little bubble you’d created around the two of you.

“Wait, Steve”, you whisper, moving backwards so that you could look at him.

“Yes, baby?”, he asked casually and like he didn’t have a care in the world, other than you.

“I think it’s… I mean, there are people- Shouldn’t we go somewhere else?”, your words jumbled into one as your mind became fuzzy with conflicting thoughts.

Steve simply smiled at you, dropping his face again to nuzzle his mouth into your cheek. “Why would I need to go somewhere else? This is my office, my team, my building… my girl”, with each word that he spoke against your lips, his fingers crept dangerously high up your inner thigh once more.

The air suddenly felt thick and warm as you sucked in deep breaths trying to keep composure. “Steve we can’t-”.

“Why not, Princess?”

“Because there are people here in the room, your friends!”, you dropped your voice so it was only audible to Steve, forgetting that Bucky also had enhanced hearing.

Steve crowded you in by placing his arms on either side of you on the desk, his voice just as quiet as yours to mimic you, “Yes, there are people in the room but they don’t care. I could bend you over this table right now and fuck you until the sun sets and they wouldn’t even glance in our direction”.

The breath caught in your throat as your hands slacked onto the top of your legs, the words failing to form in your mouth as you still held some uncertainty but more than anything, the need for him to do exactly what he’d just mentioned became an obsessive thought.

Steve could see and feel your hesitancy. Standing back to his full height, he gently cupped your face, holding eye contact as he spoke. “I’m not going to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, you know that and our safe words are always in place. If you want to go to a private room we can however, I am paying everyone enough money and also trust them that they wouldn’t be phased by our actions. You’re safe here, in this room, with these people and with me”.

You felt like you were floating, skin prickling with the burst of energy and anticipation pouring through you. There was no one you trusted more than Steve Rogers and even the people working behind you were becoming close with, trusting and becoming your friends.

“Do you remember what it was that I told you a couple of weeks ago? About being possessive over what belongs to me? This is one of those things, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing but there’s nothing I’d love more than to show you off, display you before everyone, making you moan those sweet delicious sounds that only I can make you do because you’re mine. And no one elses. Does that make sense?”

It made a lot of sense and now you thought of it, he had been quite obsessive with touching you in public before, or fucking you in areas such as dressing rooms or the back of his car in a busy car park, just because he loved the thrill of getting caught. So, now understanding that he also had quite a significant exhibitionist kink, it answered a lot of questions.

If he had asked you in any other situation if he could fuck you in front of someone, you would have said no just for sheer embarrassment. But like this, where you were already needy and horny, Steve showing his possessive side as well only fueled your arousal which was very uncomfortable. Your juices were now soaking your upper thighs, clit throbbing and pussy clenching around nothing but desperate to be full.

Maybe you were thinking from between your legs rather than your clear mind but all you wanted right now was to have Steve touch you. Biting your lip, you nodded up at him. Steve tilted his head with a raised eyebrow and you realised he needed to hear your words, he always liked you to be as vocal as possible. “I want you, sir”.

Your blonde boyfriend, pulled your face to meet his in a delicate kiss before he released his hold and sat back into his chair, reaching into the bag and placing another fry into your mouth, the fun game having already been forgotten about but you took it happily.

Whilst not blinking, you watched as Steve spread your legs further, pushing any of your remaining dress material out of the way so that he could admire the way your pussy glistened in the light of the day.

“I’m so glad you’ve gone without panties today. Eyes on me and remember, the safe words if you want to pause or stop. Don’t think about the others in the room, just think about where my lips are touching”.

You do as instructed, your lips parted slightly, panting as he presses a single kiss to your mound. Then he’s offering you another fry, his eyebrow once again rising as you don’t immediately accept it as you were slightly preoccupied. Eating it quickly, hardly chewing before swallowing, you watched with thick anticipation as he chuckles and begins to bring your legs forward and up over his shoulders.

Leaning your weight back of his desk, hands behind you, he kisses more firmly and then gives you another fry. The next kiss was more open-mouthed and you sighed in relief as his opened lips stroked your labia. Another fry was given. Then his tongue was mixing into the play, pushing firmly to dip between your folds and your hands give up with holding up your weight as you sit back and rest on your elbows.

The next time food was given, you could hardly chew it in time as Steve licked a deep line from your hole up to your clit. You were lying completely flat against the desk now, mouth open and fries forgotten about, as Steve began to eat like a man starved, devouring your cunt with sucks, licks and kisses, occasionally even scraping his teeth against sensitive spots.

One of his firm hands was laying across your stomach, pressing down so that you were kept still for his enjoyment and the other held onto one of your thighs, massaging the flesh and holding it close to his face. Thankfully he was not in a teasing mood anymore as he drank your juices, tongue exploring your clenching hole, pushing in as far as he could reach before circling your bundle of nerves.

You’d already mostly forgotten about the other people in the room until they would do something like walk across the room or talk to someone on the phone. Your eyes were closed and your mind focused intently on Steve. To be honest with yourself, you could kind of see it from Steve's point of view. Here you were with the most infamous mafia leader on the East Coast, his only thought at this moment was to pleasure you, his girl, not caring who watched but also, wanting people to watch to show his possession and dominance over the situation.

The thought itself made you tighten around his tongue, making him moan gruffly in the back of his throat. The hand he was still using to hold onto your thigh relaxed and slide towards his mouth before his tongue was replaced by the single digit as he crooked and stroked your inner walls, coaxing the overdue orgasm from you.

Your thighs trembled around his face, almost suffocating him but he didn’t care, especially as your fingers gripped onto his soft blonde hair, pulling him closer even though there was nowhere else for him to move. Everything was burning with pleasure, like you were going to explode from your core as it built and tightened and then all at once, you were orgasming hard around his finger.

Your walls fluttered around him, chest rising and falling in quick succession. Steve didn’t stop playing with your clit or fingering your pussy until you were slumped against the surface.

You’d been biting your lip throughout it to try and remain quiet to not disturb the others working which was something Steve was not fond of as he eased your thighs carefully off of his shoulders and began to rise above your body, eyes on your lip. His eyebrows were furrowed causing a crease between them as his thumb snagged the lip away and he could see an indent from where your teeth had been biting on the flesh.

You are not bothered about the flicks of pain over your lip as you beam up at him, eyes glazed and happy. As he massages the flesh, you could now smell your juices that still coated his fingers as they were so close to his nose.

“What was that about? Why were you keeping quiet? I wanted to hear you. Guess that just means I’ve got to make you cum again”.

This was exactly what he did, his work long forgotten about as he swiftly unzipped his pants, easing his throbbing cock out of his restraints and rubbing it between your folds, coating him in your liquids before nudging his tip into your hole. There was no amount of lip biting that could keep the moans back now as he thoroughly stretched you, the mix of the burn from being opened and the pleasure from feeling full had your back arching off of the desk, fingers gripping onto his shirt desperately.

Steve did not hold back thankfully, his hips snapping frantically into yours, one hand next to your head at the edge of the desk and the other holding onto your hip, grounding you onto the surface so he could fuck you. His mouth sucked along the exposed column of your throat, whereas yours hung open with a constant flow of streams filling the room which only made Steve more feral with his actions.

Every thrust felt so powerful and deep that it took an embarrassingly short amount of time before you were having your second orgasm which only made Steve swear and grunt loudly with how tight your cunt was squeezing around his cock.

He wasn’t done though as he pinned your hands beside your head and just fucked into you desperately bringing on his orgasm until finally he stilled and made sure every single drop of his cum soaked your pussy. Even then he didn’t pull out as he gathered your exhausted body into his lap, collapsing back into the seat and tucked himself back into the desk. There you stayed, your head resting on his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath, his cock still inside of you, half hard but enough to plug his cum into your cunt.

Steve’s wrong arms wrapped around your back as you both cuddled, you needed the physical touch desperately with how much you were trembling.

“Thanks, Buck”, Steve muttered and then you were thoroughly wrapped in a fluff blanket that Bucky had found in the cupboards. Hearing Bucky’s name reminded you of the other people in the room as you tentatively glanced over your shoulder to see the brunette bodyguard walking away. As he sits, he catches your eyes and gives you a genuine, normal smile as everyone else was continuing with work as if you hadn’t just been railed over their boss's desk.

Steve groans into your ear, “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m going to stay hard forever, Princess”. You hadn’t realised how much you’d been clenching around his cock still at the thought of having just fucked in front of all of these people and had absolutely no repercussions for it. Steve cupped your cheek as you looked back at him, “Maybe you are a little exhibitionist as all”, he chuckled, kissing your temple as you relaxed back into his chest.

#mafia stucky #mafia au #mafia!stucky #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #mine*#marvel smut

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brayneworms · 5 months ago

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and teary faces know the craft | lyney

kinktober day one: lingerie

word count. 1.8k

content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, lingerie, making out, both lyney + reader getting blueballed, allusions to jealousy + insecurity, somewhat established relationship, lyney is a bratttt, gender neutral reader

♪ death kink - fontaines d.c.

notes. call that lyngerie

kinktober 2024 m.list | regular m.list

He's a tease.

You should more than likely stop being surprised by it; like the owl is wise and the bake-danuki is curious, it's simply in his nature. The coy flutter of a lash, the point of a toned leg, the briefest catching of his amethyst eyes on yours at something that could be construed as innuendo. A flash like the white spark of a kamera bulb, and then gone again, retreating into shadow like it was never there in the first place.

Backstage smells like pine wood and wax. The stage squeaks with each turn of Lyney's boot upon the shining floor. In around an hour, the Opera Epiclese will be seething with audience members, packed in and huddled tight for the show. For now, it is only a palimpsest; the only people in the seats for now are you and Freminet, who maintains a shy distance a couple rows in front of you, fiddling with his little robotic penguin. You think he's started to grow used to your presence—and he's pretty sharp beneath the sandy bangs, his eyes snagging on little things others might gloss right over.

You suppose Lyney and Lynette are similar, though; beneath different veneers, all of Arlecchino's children are remiss to let any small detail slip by them.

You suppose it's a mark of the Hearth, that inclination towards neuroticism.

"And voila!" The twins' routine finishes with a swish of Lynette's skirt and Lyney's arms raised towards the domed ceiling. "What did you think?"

Freminet raises his head. "It was great," he mutters. "As always. The bit with the water tank is new, right?"

"It's merely a spruce-up of our old bit with the box," Lyney smiles. "But yes, essentially, it's new."

Freminet hums. "Well... be careful, is all. I liked it though."

Lyney beams. It's an inevitability that his gaze turns to you then, hunched a little further back. "And you, our dear guest? Do you concur?"

You raise your chin. "I think... it's your best work yet."

The smile Lyney offers is beatific—and genuine, you know, only because your own praise is such. As someone who lives a life half behind a mask, Lyney has become well-tuned to the frequency of other people's lies; it's why, you often think, he's so enamoured with you. Because you don't lie to him.

"Does that mean we can take a small break?" Lynette asks, fiddling with a glove. "I'd like a chance to refresh before the real show."

"Of course, of course. I would say we've more than earned it." As Lynette makes her way offstage, probably on the hunt for a teahouse, Freminet trails after her and Lyney catches your eye. You approach up the centre aisle that runs through the middle like a parting through a scalp, up to the edge of the stage. It’s so tall that it comes up to your chin, and Lyney extends a hand down to help you haul yourself up. It smells like rosewood and wax up here, settling pleasantly in your nose. Lyney watches you, eyes wide, earnest. He has such a sweet face, if you can learn to ignore the gleam in his eye.

“Want to help me get ready?” he asks casually. You bite back the urge to raise a brow; he looks stage-perfect already, down to the outfit. He doesn’t need help with a damn thing.

All you say is, “Sure,” and he leads you happily through the maze of corridors backstage to his dressing room. He and Lynette have separate ones here, which is nice; neither of them particularly like sharing space. Lynette keeps her things organised, and Lyney… decidedly doesn’t. He’s not a messy person by metric, but he does tend to charge forward toward the goal without realising the trail he was leaving in his wake.

The dressing room is modestly sized, draped in swaths of red and gold cloth that make it feel heady and hot and close. A sparkling mirror edged in something that glows lurid and blue-white, throwing your features into sharp relief; and a complimentary basket of local Fontainian specialities which you pick through with interest, coming up with foreign titian fruits and crystal bottles of fizzy alcohol.

“So…” Lyney hovers at your shoulder, watching you pick through the cellophane-wrapped morsels. “You really liked the show?”

“I did.” You put back some fancy chocolate thing and turn to face him; he doesn’t back off, watching with his hands twisting like snakes before him. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous. “You’re really getting into it. Lynette’s working very hard.”

It’s a prod, a careful poke—and as you guessed, Lyney pouts. If he had ears like his sister, they’d probably be pinned back against his head right now. “Only Lynette?”

A slow grin spreads over your face like molasses. “Oh, I see. You’re fishing for something.”

“Ahaha… I don’t fish.” He crosses his arms over his chest, chin jutting petulantly. “But when you go out of your way not to compliment me, you can’t blame me for thinking the worst. Perhaps my loveliest guest of all is losing interest?”

“Perhaps,” you say mildly, then backtrack as soon as his expression falters. “Oh, come on. You know what I think of you. Must I say it every time.”

“You could stand to say it more.”

“I bought you that lovely gift only a few days ago.”

Lyney’s eyes flash; that gleam, like the side of a cut amethyst. “Oh, I remember,” he says coyly. “I’ve grown quite familiar with it, in fact.”

The notion makes heat flare in your gut. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He pauses, smiles—catlike, just a hint of sharp teeth between the plush peach of his lip. “You might say I’m familiar with it right this second, actually.”

You blink. Your mouth is as dry as the Great Red Sand. “Are you trying to tell me—”

Tease. It’s in the way Lyney’s face slips into an innocent little smile as he hooks a finger over the cuffed edge of his shorts and yanks it up enough to expose a glimpse of rouge lace. Unable to stop yourself, your hand flies out, keeping it there. You stare from it to him.

“Are you serious?” you whisper.

Lyney giggles. “I take this to mean you’re not losing interest, then?”

“I’ll kill you.” You sound too hoarse. “Show me.”

Lyney casts a slow, obvious look at the ornate clock hung open the wall. “Y’know, I’m just not entirely sure we have time right now, dearest.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you mutter, fingers hooking onto his stupid bodysuit and fumbling at the buttons. You can feel his stomach flex with silent laughter at your obvious eagerness; usually you’d be trying to reign it in—the last thing a tease like him needs is more fire to stoke the fuel of his ego—but sue you. He knows what buttons to press. He has way too much power in his sleek gloved hand.

You get a handle on the suit and yank it down with difficulty to his knees. What you’d seen a glimpse of were two thin silky garters, encircling the plush of his pale thighs, just about hidden by the hem of his shorts. One wrong move and they’d slip out from under the black leather, glaringly visible to everyone. The idea makes you feverish with anger and also so turned on you can barely see straight.

The garters clip onto dusky pink underwear, arching gracefully over his pubic bone to encircle the triangle of his waist. When you lift a trembling hand to lift his shirt, you see a matching bralette, satiny cups tight against the soft swells of his pectorals. You can see straight through the gauzy fabric, coffee-coloured nipples pebbled under your attention.

“I hate you,” is the first thing that come out of your mouth. The sight of him in this sparkling pink-red set makes you want to do unspeakable things. You want to ruin that fabric forever and buy him a new one. A dozen new ones in hundreds of different shades, ruin them systematically, rinse, repeat.

He laughs again, but even his facade has its limits; he sounds slightly breathless, and you can see the faint pink blush on his cheeks starting to crawl down his chest. His collarbones gleam like cut diamonds, archons you wish you could bite them. “I take it you approve?”

Your answer is as animalistic as you feel, the rough crush of your lips over his. You’re rewarded with a muffled mmphf?! as your weight pushes the both of you back against the table, sending the cute basket of edible arrangements sprawling in a mosaic upon the floor. You muscle your way between Lyney’s legs, the press of his stiffening cock so close through only the wisp of organza, hot and insistent as a brand mark. Your hand tangles in his hair, dragging him impossibly closer as your lips duck to press against his butter-soft skin, his jaw, his neck—

“N-no marks!” he gasps, even as he presses his hips against yours with a moan. “Dearest, lovely, mon chérie, please—”

“You’re so pathetic,” you whisper into his neck, feel the buzz of your words sink into the soft skin of his throat. Lyney shudders and whines his protest. “No time, remember? Whose fault is that?”

“I just wanted—you to look at me,” he grits out, legs locked around your waist. It occurs to you that his fears of you losing interest are likely to be grounded in reality, dressed up with a lilting voice and wave of a hand. Your heart twitches.

“I’m always looking at you, stupid.”

Lyney’s cheeks darken, brows coming together as a sort of glaze slides over his eyes. This look you’re familiar with; it makes your breath hitch. He leans forwards, lips parted—

Three sharp knocks at the door. “We’re on in fifteen minutes, brother.”

Lyney’s whole body scrunches up, a cold disappointment stealing over his face. He looks to you desperately, but you can only shrug. “Answer your sister.”

He droops like a wilting flower. “I… I’ll be right out, Lynette.”

There’s a pause, a deeply disappointed sigh, and you hear her heels clicking neatly back down the corridor. Lyney scrubs a hand down his face and awkwardly gets down from the desk, fumbling to right his clothes. His whole body shivers as he does his bodysuit back up, having to readjust it several times in wake of his hardness. He looks down unhappily at the result.

As he goes to leave, he pauses, hand on the doorknob. “You’ll stay for the show?”

You see the question for what it is, and smile. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll wait for you after, too.”

Lyney tucks his head away, but you fancy you can see his giddy smile anyways. “I’ll try not to make you wait too long,” he murmurs; one hand reaches down, adjusts the cuff of his shorts just so you get the briefest flash of red-pink. And then he’s gone, out the door and down the corridor to the stage.

You lean against the table, heave a sigh. Start picking up the spilled complimentaries from the basket. You have a feeling, later tonight, that you’re both going to need the sustenance.

#🫀.scribes #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #lyney x reader #lyney smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x dom!reader #dom!reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #lyney x gender neutral reader #lyney x gn reader #lyney x dom!reader #braynekinktober 2024

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laurajb · 1 month ago

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"The Birthday Girl"

It was supposed to be my big day -my 20th birthday party. Streamers hung from the ceiling, glittery balloons floated about, and a giant banner proclaimed "Happy Birthday!" But I couldn't stop staring down at my hands, slender and soft, painted with French tips. Hands that didn't belong to me.

Second puberty had hit me like a freight train. One day I woke up with morning wood, the next I was writhing in agony as my body reshaped itself into hourglass perfection. Breasts, wide hips, a tiny waist - I had become the ultimate bimbo girl.

I tottered around the living room in stilettos, my tight dress barely containing my new assets. My facial features locked into permanent - plump lips, smoky eyes, and a perpetual pout.

"Look at the tits on her!" my drunk uncle cackled, eyeing my cleavage. "Jared always did have nice pecs. Guess they went to good use!"

"Doesn't she look just like her mother?" my aunt trilled, fluffing my long hair.

"Tell me about it," my father sighed. "My boy was a star basketball player. Now he's a sexpot. What a waste of potential!"

I bit my glossy lip to hold back tears. They were talking about me right in front of my face, evaluating my body like a slab of meat.

"Well I think she's gorgeous!" my grandmother cooed, clasping my face. "You're going to snag yourself a rich husband, dearie. That's every woman's dream!"

"Grandma, I hadn't thought...I mean, I always assumed I'd find a wife someday and-"

"Nonsense!" She waved a wrinkled hand. "You've got a different life path now, honey. Embrace it! Your tits were made for baby feeding' and your cunt for -"

"Mother!" My mother scolded. "Calm down! Let's not overwhelm the poor girl."

I gulped down a glass of champagne, my mind reeling. They were right - as much as I wanted to deny it, my body had become my destiny. Bouncing breasts and a birth canal. That's all I was good for now.

What would happen to my future? basketball scholarship? Now that I was just a bimbo with an empty head and hot body.

I wanted to scream, to rip off the tight dress and high heels, to go back to being the man I was meant to be. But underneath my glossy false lashes, I could only weep silently, accepting my fate.

I was a woman now, whether I liked it or not. And that's all I would ever be.

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 1 month ago

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•Alkaline

Mel Medarda x Viktor

Warnings- author really just wanted them to fxck so minimal plot, ooc characters, kissing, tongue fucking, oral (fem receiving), riding, idk what else

I’m caught up in her design, And how it connects to mine

Viktor was bored, no he wasn’t bored he was exhausted, of having to talk to all of these people; that’s a nice way to describe them. Greedy brain dead businessman ready to snag up any offer put on the table if it benefits them in any way. He wanted to go home, or the lab which was basically his home these days.

He sipped on a bitter red wine that went from his empty stomach straight to his head. He stayed to the walls watching a golden draped woman dance through the crowd, greeting the greedy people, making new alliances, sealing deals on his and Jayce’s behalf. She truly was a vision.

Mel Medarda, leader of Piltover and the only reason he and Jayce had a chance to get this far with hextech. He watched, he watched her hips sway the tight white dress she wore left little to imagine; it would be a crime not to look. He couldn’t keep his mind off her, he wondered what she looked like under those clothes, what she felt like, how she smelt, tasted, how her skin would feel against his.

He couldn’t keep the visions of unspeakable acts clear from his mind, why? God the wine must be getting to his head. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. And just as she turns around she catches him. Viktors cheeks burned beet red embarrassed he got caught. Leaning off the wall he stalked off to the other side of the room trying not to catch a glimpse of the woman again all the while hiding a small tent in his dark brown pants.

Mel had always admired Viktor, his sharp features, his inability to tell a lie. How seductive he could be without even trying. He intrigued her, she needed more. As she walked through another outrageous party greeting people she would rather kick in the face. She gave as many fake smiles and compliments necessary to seal deals to bring hextech to its prime, to bring Piltover to its prime.

Just as she was done talking to the last councilor; she caught Viktor, he was rather striking tonight, his usual vest tight around his body and brown pants. She often wondered what those clothes hide from her prying eyes. He was leaned up against the wall watching her eyes gleaming with hunger. Once he realized she saw him he shuffled off rather quickly making Mel pout.

Looking over to Jayce, in the middle of the chandelier light room, surrounded by men and women alike asking about the latest invention and if they could be the first to know about it. He took his time speaking to them one by one with a charming smile on his face.

Then she looked at Viktor, in the darkest corner of the room, he talked to no one and no one talked to him but he seemed to like it that way. He was obviously ready to go home. But Mel had other ideas for him.

She made her way over to Viktor's dark corner. When she made it he looked up at her his eyes pierced right through her it made her throat dry, had he always been this alluring?

Like a siren calling out from the sea and Mel just went further into the waves.

“All by yourself tonight councilor?” Viktor’s voice broke through her trance. “Yes I was wondering what you were doing,” her eyes sweeping over him before leaning on the wall beside him. “All by yourself.” She whispers into his ear watching the goosebumps pm the back of his neck raise. Viktor steps away, trying to keep his composure.

“Well not everyone has to talk to those people, Jayce deals with the people and I deal with the science.” He sneered looking over to Jayce still buttering up future investors. “Is that so?” Mel had time to observe him, his face grazing over the party with dark eyes. She watched his face, his lips twitching every so often, dark circles under his eyes from endless nights at the lab, fine lines from concentration paint his forehead. He was a vision.

He turned back to her looking at her lips for a millisecond before speaking, “Is there any particular reason you came over?” He asked and all she could do was smile. “There actually was,” she spoke moving closer to him, so close he could practically feel her breath on his neck.

He looked down at her staring bores in her eyes and she looked back with as much force; it was as if the whole room dissipated all around them and she put a hand on his chest, bringing her lips to his ear she whispered so delicate, so soft that he almost missed it; “I like you Viktor, a lot.” Almost. Her warm breath fawned his ear, those little words knocking all the sense out of him. Grabbing her by the wrist he walked through the back out of the room and into an empty one. So far from the ballroom so far no one would hear a thing.

Mel couldn’t ask anything before Viktor grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her full force into a kiss. Mel melted into the kiss, grabbing ahold to his face, bringing him closer. He moaned into the kiss as she took over. Taking his tongue in her mouth she played with him, suckling, flipping, caressing him with her warm muscle. She pulled away with a ‘pop’, and he looked at her. She was perfect. Viktor was a man of many virtues, one being his actual virtue in a sexual sense. Viktor saw no reason to have sexual relations to satisfy needs unknown to him. Well, until now.

Something broke within Viktor. Grabbing her wrist once again he walked her over to the table tapping on it, telling her to get up there. He propped his crutch up on the wall sitting in the seat right in front of her. He grabbed her thighs yanking her to the edge of the table, she let out a surprised yelp. He balled the white fabric of her dress in his hands looking up for her to say so and all she could do was nod.

He pulled her dress up, kissing her thighs, biting and nibbling at the soft skin of her inner. He kissed her panties, they were already soaked. He couldn't help but smile knowing he brought that out of her. He licked a stripe over the fabric, her arousal costing his tongue, and just like that he was hooked.

He couldn’t wait to take them off, he pulled her underwear to the side. His knuckles straining pure white against the fabric, wasting no time Viktor’s tongue started its assault on Mel. Mel sucked in a breath shocked at the pleasure being given to her. Viktor ravaged her, savoring her tangy flavor that flowed down his chin and neck; he had never tasted anything like her before he easily became addicted.

And that’s when he realized Mel was an undiscovered element, an object to desire. An object he now possessed and now couldn’t ever give it up.

He doesn’t let up on her pussy, her hips buck so wild Viktor pins them down with his arms. He spit on her spread pussy watching the globe drip down, he sucked her hole fucking it with his tongue before bringing all his attention to her clit, he sucked gently, flicking over it again and again. He moved back to her pulsing hole he kissed her wetness gently before opening his mouth and fucking her with his tongue. The very tip of his nose hitting her clit very so often with the thrust of his tongue. He looked up through hooded eyes how she came undone from a few licks.

He wondered how fast he could make her cum, next time. Next time, he wondered; there had to be another if there was one that would surely go mad. While lost in thought he hadn’t realized he had made Mel cum, her legs shaking ecstatically, her thighs clamping around his head as her high came to its peak. Her back arched off the table, biting her arm trying to keep her screams to a minimum; Viktor licked her pussy softly as she rode herself down.

When he let off she looked at him through spent eyes; “Where on earth did you learn all that?” She asked, chest heaving up and down. He only smiles, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, “You forget I grew up in Zaun you hear things, you learn things.” He looked up at her, dress bunched up in her lap, her thighs still twitching, he worried he may have pushed her too hard but when he looked up her face showed nothing but being done.

She climbed onto the male's lap pawing at his chest pulling a few buttons loose, her nails grazed his pulse, stroking his jaw, her lips found his neck. Her teeth grazed and bit at his snowy skin leaving bruises for all the see. “Just before we go forward for your kn-knowledge,” he stuttered as she moved against the tent in his pants; precum already making a soiled spot on the fabric, her soft lips against his skin not helping much either.

“I have never done this before, sex-“ she shut him up with a gentle kiss, she tasted like champagne and chocolate. Pulling away she gave him a gentle smile, her accent slipping into the air, “it’s okay, I’ll go slow.” She put her hand on his hardened cock, moving ever so slightly. Viktor’s head dropped back even with such a small touch it gave him so much pleasure. She quickly undid his pants reaching in palming him through his underwear; something but nothing at the same time.

When his underwear was disgustingly sticky with precum did she deem him ready.

She pulled him out of his pants, he was much lengthier than she expected. As she prepared herself, guiding his leaky tip to her entrance Viktor watched with anticipation and when she put him inside her his mind went to mush.

He was altered, permanently; never to be the same. She had clawed her way in his metal plated chest, tearing at his skin, through his nerves ripping at the muscle, breaking his ribs to lie down atop of his heart. And he was left bleeding for her, open; exposed. Only for her.

She was gentle with him as she moved her hips, cradling his jaw as she brought him to the very peak of euphoria. His bare cock moved in out of her squelching pussy; begging for more. Her hips dragged slowly, teasing; it drove Viktor mad. Viktor grips her hips bringing her down force, her walls contracting around him; she liked it hard. Viktor smirked, guiding her hips up once again just to slam her down; again and again his tip hitting her in all the right places over and over. It was maddening how he made her so malleable, so obedient that he hadn’t even had to guide her as she slammed herself down again and again. Her breath was ragged,her hips efforts weakened. Viktor smiled, hands still resting on her hips. “Can’t keep up, councillor?” Viktor jokes, chest heaving up and down.

Mel looked up, a new goal she had to obtain. She quickened her efforts, Viktor groaned as she whined her hips, her cunny squeezing him so, so tight. Mel threw her head back in pleasure, there it was; that sweet, soft little spot that brought tears to her eyes. She ground her hips in his moving harder and faster keeping him right here, bringing her to the very precise of pleasure.

Mel couldn’t help but cry out, clinging onto Viktor her nails digging into his pale flesh, her body shook violently as she came. Her velvet walls clenched around him, Viktor whined as she humped his sensitive cock, he pawed at her body, he adored her.

“M-Mel,” Viktor groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Mel looked at him with curiosity, holding his bobbing head with her hands as she fucked him through her high. “Yes, Viktor?” She answered, silence, their bodies stuck together with sweat, the squelching of their joined bodies filling the room. He opened his shut eyes, barely before speaking; “You're amazing.”

His abs flexed when he came, whole body tensing up as Mel milked him for all his worth. Warmth fills Mel as the man beneath her spills his seed. Leaned up against each other, intertwined into one, in that dark cold room it was only them. Only they could see each other's imperfections and in that room they would see no judgement, no contempt, only understanding.

When Mel did slip off of him, it suddenly dawned on Viktor of what he had just done to the young Medarda. He grabbed his crutch, quickly stuffing himself back inside his pants. He got up, getting ready to leave until he looked at Mel.

Mel who up until that point had been looking at Viktor, amused by his peculiar actions until she realized he was trying to leave. He had consumed her, taking her whole being with him; now she couldn’t let him go. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Oh, I thought you would like—“

Mel could only smile before she walked closer to him, her dress put back on quickly, she cornered him to the room. “You didn’t think this was a one time thing did you?” She asked simply, He didn’t answer, “You’re a curious one you know that.” Patting his chin and turning away she went for the door and just before leaving she turned looking back and tipped her head. “Until next time.” And then she left.

Viktor slumped back against the wall taking the pressure off his leg and he only smirked, whispering to himself, “Until next time, Councilor.”

#arcane fic #arcane smut #melvik #vikmel #viktor x mel #mel x viktor #mel smut #arcane viktor #mel medarda smut #mel x Viktor smut #mel medarda arcane #viktor lol #mel lol

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doumadono · 1 year ago

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sinful Sunday: Douma with a breeding Kink. He is in heat and it last for 4 weeks but he see's reader, who has marriage problem. He secretly eat Reader husband and convince reader to sleep with him for 4 weeks. After the 4 weeks he keeps reader alive snd makes reader his wife and might even turn her into a demon after birth...

SINFUL SUNDAY

Douma's keen eyes locked onto you the moment you strolled into Paradise Faith. Sure, there were plenty of girls wrapped up in his cult's allure, but you managed to snag his attention in the blink of an eye.

Douma couldn't ignore the profound sadness radiating from you, and in that very instant, he made up his mind to do whatever it took to "fix you up."

Douma orchestrated a meeting with you. The mere thought that Douma-sama desired a face-to-face meeting left you feeling honored, and you found yourself in his private chambers.

As you spilled the beans about your marital woes, Douma lounged, chin rested on his palm, savoring the drama as you animatedly gestured. As you spilled the beans about your marriage troubles and an unfaithful husband, Douma leaned back, resting his chin on his palm, thoroughly entertained by your animated gestures as you waved your hands while speaking. Little did you know, you were unwittingly serving him the information he craved.

Douma graciously allowed you to stay in his temple, instructing maids to prepare a cozy chamber for your rest.

As the night unfolded, he disappeared into the shadows, fully aware of the task at hand.

Dealing with your husband turned into a delightful game for Douma. He relished every moment as he devoured the scoundrel alive. Despite the guy being less nutritious than you could ever be, Douma savored his macabre midnight snack.

Upon his return to his chamber that night, a tingling sensation ignited within his groin. The heat, as predictable as every quarter, began to surge. Douma already knew precisely how to indulge and alleviate himself.

The next day, he enveloped you in his presence, engaging in endless conversations, assisting you in selecting materials for a new dress he generously offered to procure. Douma threw himself into mundane human activities with an intensity he wasn't aware he had. But there was a good reason for him to act that way.

Your response was impeccable; you couldn't get enough of being close to him.

It only took him a few days to convince you to share your bed with him, though for him, each moment felt like an eternity. The relentless heat was becoming unbearable, and time seemed to crawl at an agonizing pace.

Douma strolled into your chamber, a sly amusement dancing in his rainbow eyes as he found you eagerly waiting, sprawled naked on your futon. Complaints were the last thing on his mind.

Going down on you sent a thrilling shudder through him. Your intoxicating juices proved irresistible, and he couldn't resist lapping on your folds, making the most obscene noises.

Douma quickly discerned that you were incredibly tight, almost pushing the limits of accommodating his impressive girth. However, a prolonged session of eating your tiny, delicious pussy out for nearly half an hour worked its magic, allowing his lengthy cock to snugly nestle within you, embraced by the welcoming grip of your spongy, slick walls.

Douma fell in love with a classic missionary and doggy style — he relished grabbing hold of the meat of your ass to pull you back onto his cock, playfully spanking your cheeks whenever you attempted to crawl away.

"I'll breed you thoroughly, my little lotus. By the end of the night, you'll be filled with my seed," he confidently assured you, intensifying his pace as he fervently took you from behind as you laid on your side, his cock spreading your entrance painfully.

He fucked you in a myriad of positions throughout the night, leaving you not only adorned with a tapestry of bruises but also drained to the extent that moving your limbs became an impossible endeavor.

For nearly four weeks straight, Douma fucked you every night, making no exceptions. He particularly reveled in the sessions during your period — your blood tasted heavenly, and he found himself intoxicated by your flavor even more.

After pumping you full of his semen one night, he revealed the truth — you were in the arms of a demon, one of the Twelve Kizuki, following the orders of Muzan-sama, the demon king.

Initially, fear gripped you, and you hesitated to accept his words. Yet, deep down, something convinced you he wasn't spinning a tale — his avoidance of daylight, heightened activity during the night, and abstention from human food spoke volumes.

"Douma-dono," you whispered, fingers delicately tracing the lines of his jaw. "I'm not afraid. I've fallen in love. You've given me the warmth and acceptance I've craved. If you wish to feed on me, consider it my repayment for all you've offered me these past weeks, my love."

He chuckled, his long index finger gently caressing your still-slick mound from your combined releases, his cum still slowly oozing from your abused entrance. "My little, silly lotus. I won't feed on you, you're too precious to me. You're going to stay by my side forever. I want you to become a demon, just like me. And if he agrees, you will. Perhaps one day, you'll grant me an heir. That's what I desire most."

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #douma #douma smut #douma x reader #douma x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba douma #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kny douma #demon slayer douma #douma kny #kny x reader #kny x female reader

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writtenonreceipts · 5 months ago

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Rowaelin Month Day Five: Birthdays @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3 // Find Part One Here (not necessary to read)

Summary: Forced to live together during covid, Rowan and Aelin have their own series of misgivings while trying to get along.

Warnings: references to covid, but really it's fluff ~1.8k words

.*.*.*.*.

Level of Concern (tell me we're ok)

If she hadn’t expressed it enough already: Aelin hated the pandemic. She hated isolation. She hated separation. She hated the unknown. She hated all of it.

Yes, she knew it was important and key to seeing lower number spikes and she knew this was all she could do aside from getting vaccinated and it was all very important to take seriously. Sure. Fine.

But why did it feel so lonely?

She sat at the kitchen table staring at her breakfast of granola and milk wishing it were a triple decked pile of Nutella pancakes. Her groceries were running low and since money was tight, she had to wait until her paycheck cleared on Friday before she could go to the store. It was Monday.

Aelin glanced at her phone. Again.

No messages.

It was only eight, earlier than her family knew she would ever get up. Especially on a day like today. Still. She would have expected at least one text from Aedion.

A small shuffle down the hall told her that Rowan was awake. Of course he was. Aelin was pretty sure he woke up by five-thirty so he could still work out in the living room. It really pissed her off that he wasn’t getting fat. She’d gained two pounds since quarantine began. Not that she could really tell…honestly, she knew it didn’t mean anything and who the hell cared what her body looked like. If she didn’t have to worry about money she’d be eating her weight in cake right now.

“Are you alright?”

Aelin looked up to see Rowan standing in the kitchen entryway. She hadn’t noticed his entrance, only thinking he was moving from bathroom to bedroom.

“So good,” she said. She took a bite of now soggy granola and hated her entire existence.

Rowan, dressed in his usual slacks and neat button up, went to start a pot of coffee. His pine scented soap permeated the air and Aelin tried not to sniff too loudly. Why did he have to smell good too?

After the entire incident with the cookie dough weeks ago, Aelin had tried to put some much needed distance between the two of them. Well, much needed for her. He didn’t need her being awkward and fluttery around him. Because she wasn’t. Obviously. He was just attractive and she was an idiot.

Rowan took a seat at the table across from her, bowl of premade overnight oats and bowl of berries set before him. How much did he make that he could afford fresh fruit? In this economy? Maybe, maybe, once a month did she indulge on some nicer foods. But after the “great egg famine” she relied a bit too heavily on cheaper items. She should try working out. Maybe that would help her slump.

“You’re staring at me,” Rowan said. He was looking at his phone with some news app opened.

“Am not.” Another soggy bite of granola.

“Sure,” he replied, drawing the word out.

Aelin rolled her eyes and stood. She wasn’t going to finish this food, no matter how painful it was to waste it. Besides, she had to prepare for her day. She’d managed to snag a few jobs for the week that would hopefully keep her busy enough to ignore the fact that this birthday was going to be the worst she’d ever had.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. Which Aelin had built herself up for, really.

Elide was a travelling nurse and with Covid, she’d been busier than ever. Aedion was still stationed overseas doing something that was uber classified. He could just say he was training with the SEALS and be done with it. Lysandra had launched a new clothing store right before lockdown and was doing everything in her power to keep the little shop up and running. Aelin spent a decent chunk of her paycheck on items from the store and most of her Insta feed was just reels Lysandra created.

She couldn’t be mad at any of them, not really. Not even her own parents. Her father had been leveraging to retire from his company but that hope had been shot out the window and her mother was helping to care for some relatives that were also struggling. No one was immune to the chaos the last several months had caused.

Aelin was finally able log off her personal website having finished the long list of assignments and editing jobs. Now she just needed to hear back from her clients and their re-edits.

Out in the kitchen Rowan was already bustling around. She could hear pots banging and already a delightful aroma was permeating the air. It was only five-fifteen, he must have finished up his day early, a first for him.

Scrubbing a hand down her face, Aelin grabbed one of her oversized flannels and tugged it on over her graphic tee, Read Banned Books was printed over the front. It probably needs to be washed but she couldn’t be bothered with laundry.

As she shuffles out of her room she tried to decide what she has left to eat for dinner. A frozen dinner or maybe ramen. Which sounded terrible if she were being honest.

“I’ll be quick—” she began to tell Rowan as she entered the kitchen. But she came up short when she saw the table was made up with two place settings. And the stove was full of more than enough food for one person.

She frowned. Rowan was adamant over the rules of social distancing, his parents were older and at a higher risk of getting infected, so he wouldn’t have anyone over—the vaccine hadn’t rolled out for their area yet anyways.

Rowan glanced up at her, kitchen towel slung over one shoulder, his sleeves were rolled up leaving his forearms on display and bits of his tattoo peeking out from the fabric.

She was definitely staring.

“Happy birthday,” he said when she didn’t finish her thought. He gestured a hand around the messy kitchen then the table. “I was expecting you to take a little longer, so it’s not quite ready.”

Aelin blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“I know it’s your birthday Aelin,” he said, “and I’m sure it’s been hell for you today. I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Something…nice?

“You made me dinner?” she asked, trying desperately to ignore the way her heart gave a flip in her chest.

“Yeah,” he said simply. He glanced back at the stove. “It’s only a Tuscan chicken and bread.”

It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her in ages. She looked over his shoulder as the chicken in its cream and sundried tomato sauce as it bubbled happily away, a pot of pasta behind it. There were dishes scattered in the sink (she’d never seen him make such a mess before) and Rowan did have a mildly frantic look in his eyes. It was the most disheveled she’d ever seen him.

“Thank-you,” Aelin said. She brushed a hand through her hair unsure why she was feeling so frazzled. “Can I help with anything.”

Rowan shook his head. “We’re almost done anyways. Have a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

Following his direction, Aelin settled into her chair, still trying to figure out if she’d stepped into a different reality.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?” she asked as he finished getting everything together.

“Elide texted me,” Rowan told her, “told me that she didn’t know her schedule to give you a call and your family is…busy.”

“Right,” Aelin agreed. Elide was dating one of Rowan’s friends, Lorcan, so it wasn’t completely strange that she would at least know of him. “Where’d you learn to cook anyways? You’re always whipping something up.”

“My ma,” Rowan said. He dished a plate of food and returned it back before her. Heavenly scents wafted up to her and Aelin realized she was salivating. “She always said she wanted to make sure I could take care of myself. And I liked it, so I kept cooking after I went to college.”

It was the most she’d ever heard from him. And now…now she wanted to hear more from him.

Rowan dished his own plate and sat in the chair opposite her. “I hope you like it.”

“It smells amazing,” she admitted. She got a forkful of all the bits of the meal; chicken, basil, sundried tomatoes, parmesan cheese, all drenched in sauce. Unable to wait for it to cool down she stuffed it into her mouth. Rowan watched her with mixed bemusement (mostly concern).

“Oh,” she moaned, ignoring the look he was giving her. “This is the best thing ever.”

“You’re going to burn your mouth to hell,” he said, slowly readying his own bite.

“Too good,” she replied. She was only on her second bite and planning on seconds. If he was going to cook for her, she’d eat every last bite.

Rowan muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t make out but she didn’t care. It had been ages since she’d had a decent homecooked meal and this was more than decent.

“Was your day alright, all things considered?” he asked, passing her the garlic bread.

Aelin finally managed to slow down and take a drink of water and some of the proffered bread. She took a moment to consider her answer. If she told the truth he’d probably pity her more.

“It was okay,” she said. “Same old. I got a few new clients so it was keeping me busy.” She wouldn’t see payout from these jobs for at least another three weeks which was why she was banking on this Friday’s payments to come through. “What about you? No big ‘ol problems for you?”

She was teasing him, mostly. He’d given her enough grief about her English degree in this economy that she didn’t being a little snippy right back at him.

Rowan rolled his eyes. He took another bite to furlong his response. “Same as always.”

Aelin quirked her brow. “So that f-bomb this morning was…what? Catharsis?”

“Yes.”

He responded too quickly that Aelin knew she had him.

“Right,” she drawled. “It’s alright to hate your job you know, no one will judge you or your fancy degree for it.”

“Aelin.”

She shrugged, mouth quirking in a smile. “Last one, promise.”

“I don’t trust you on that,” he said.

Aelin wasn’t offended.

They finished meal companionably, which shocked Aelin more than Rowan cooking for her. And she helped him clean the dishes, because really, she wasn’t that terrible a person.

“So, no chocolate cake?” She asked as she dried the last pan.

“I cook not bake,” he said, “you’re on your own for that, princess.”

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. As he turned to head back to his room for the night, Aelin garnered the last amount of courage she had for that day.

“Rowan,” she said, calling him back. “Thank-you for tonight.”

He offered her one, rare smile. “You’re welcome.”

.*.*.*.

thanks for reading!! reblogs and comments appreciated. my blog @writtenonreceiptswrites is my fic only blog where i reblog all updates!

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowaelin month 2024 #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn

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rex-meshla · 3 months ago

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Steel Meets Silk

PAIRING | ARC Commander Colt x F!OC (Anastasia Husk) SUMMARY | Heiress to one of the galaxy's most powerful corporations, Anastasia "Stassie" Husk has lived a life of privilege, always in control-or so she thought. But as the shadows of war creep closer, her sheltered world begins to crack, revealing betrayals and secrets that could destroy everything WORD COUNT | 1.7k

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Prologue: The Weight of Perfection

The glass in my hand was as delicate as the conversations around me—smooth, effortless, as if it had all been carefully orchestrated. I smiled, barely listening to the conversation I'd heard a hundred times before: the same praise, the same hollow compliments, the same empty promises. They didn't know me; they only knew Alaric and Vivienne Husk's daughter, the perfect heir, polished and brilliant.

My life had been arranged, as precisely as a blueprint. Every piece of it sewn into place, like a suit that fit just a little too tight. Did anyone even see me, the girl behind the name, behind the forced smile? In moments like these, I wasn't sure I even saw myself. This world of polished surfaces, where a single misstep could crack the facade, and the pressure to be flawless felt less like a privilege and more like a trap.

Tonight, though, it all felt so... ordinary. The gala had all the usual ingredients—flickering chandeliers, hundreds of glasses of champagne clinking, the soft murmur of high society, their voices a soundtrack to the elegance of the room. Everything was perfectly arranged, and I was, as always, a part of it. The perfect daughter. The perfect heir to the Husk legacy. The perfect everything.

Talk of the war swirled in the background, muffled voices in a world that felt so far removed from me. It was almost amusing how such distant concerns could dominate the galaxy when, here in my world, all I had to worry about was making sure my dress didn't snag on the edge of the table. The Republic's fight for peace was a story I'd read in the news, a conflict I rarely thought about. It wasn't my fight.

"Stassie, darling, you look radiant tonight," a voice cut through my thoughts. I turned to see Padmé standing there, her eyes softer than I'd expected. Unlike most people here, she looked at me as though she saw past the sparkles and smiles, to someone else underneath.

I turned, my smile widening as I spotted Padmé. Even in a room full of accomplished individuals, she always stood out. Not just because of her beauty, but because of the quiet strength she exuded. There was something in the way she carried herself that made you feel like the world was a little more manageable when she was around.

"Thank you," I replied with a smile. "And you, as always, have that 'I'm about to save the galaxy' glow about you."

Padmé's voice, smooth and calm, was a stark contrast to the buzzing energy of the gala around us. She wasn't just a senator; she was a woman who carried the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, and it showed in the quiet intensity with which she spoke.

"You know, Stassie," she began, her gaze drifting past the sparkling chandeliers to the horizon outside, "there are days when I wish the war had never reached us here, this far from the front lines. I'm sure it all seems so distant from where you stand, but I've seen firsthand what it does. People think it's just the battles. But it's the ripple effect, the way it shifts everything. The market. The people. Even those we thought we could trust." Her voice softened for a moment, a shadow crossing her face. "I was at a memorial service for a friend last week. A fellow senator. Just... gone. The war's touch is far-reaching, and you never know when it will come knocking."

I glanced at her, startled by the hint of vulnerability in her tone. Padmé, the epitome of composure, was rarely so open, but the weight of her words struck me in a way I hadn't anticipated. My mind spun, trying to reconcile the serene world I knew with the dark reality she was painting.

I forced a smile, though it felt thin. "I suppose I'm lucky. It all feels so far away from here."

Padmé's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. "Lucky, yes. But don't let that shield you from what's coming. It doesn't take much for the world to change. Sometimes, it's just one unexpected moment. Your family's business, your father's influence... It all becomes part of the bigger picture. Don't wait until it's too late to realize how much it matters."

Her words hung in the air, and for a second, I couldn't decide if I should be worried or grateful for her warning. There was a tension in her eyes, a silent plea for me to understand something more than the glittering world I was so comfortable in. But I didn't know how to move beyond that distance yet.

As the evening wore on, the conversation around me started to die down, and the glow of the gala seemed to flicker out in slow motion. The guests began to thin out, the glittering crowd dispersing like a fading dream. But there was one person who had remained, even as the others left.

Father always lingered just a little longer, as if savoring every moment, like a man who knew the value of time.

I spotted him across the room, standing by a tall window with a perfect view of the stars. He was surveying the crowd, his sharp blue eyes never missing a detail. But when they landed on me, something shifted in his expression, more than just pride. There was something else. Something I couldn't quite place.

I excused myself from the conversation I'd been caught in, moving toward him with a purposeful stride. As I approached, he looked me up and down with that familiar calculating gaze, but this time, there was a warmth in his eyes that made my chest tighten.

"Stassie," he said, his voice low and steady. "Come here for a moment."

I stopped in front of him, offering a small, questioning smile. "What's on your mind, Father?"

He studied me for a long moment, as though seeing me not just as his daughter, but as the young woman I was becoming. "You're growing up," he said softly, almost to himself. "And it's time you understood just how serious that is."

I frowned slightly, unsure of where this was headed. "What do you mean?"

"You're not just the heir to this business, Anastasia. You're the future of it. And I've worked too hard to let anything—or anyone—stand in your way."

His grip on my shoulder was firm, but I kept my gaze steady, resisting the urge to pull away. "Of course," I replied smoothly, the word tasting bitter. Did he ever wonder what I wanted, what my future could look like if I weren't shaped to fit his plans? But I knew better than to ask. In our world, even the tiniest crack in the mask could cause everything to come crashing down.

"I know that," I replied, trying to keep the unease out of my voice. "But things have always been... well, they've always been good."

My father's smile was soft, but his eyes grew more serious. "Good is never enough. Good doesn't get you through the next challenge, the next hurdle. It's time for you to prepare for the real work ahead."

I blinked, processing his words. "The real work?"

"Yes," he said, his voice low and resolute. "You're about to step into a new chapter, Stassie. The one where the stakes are higher, the pressure greater. And you'll face challenges that will test everything you've learned so far."

A sudden weight settled over me, the kind that only came when my father spoke in that tone—the tone that signified no turning back. I wasn't just his daughter anymore. I was becoming a part of something far bigger than myself. And whether I liked it or not, I was about to see just how serious it all was.

"You're ready for this," he added, his voice full of quiet confidence. "I know it."

His words were measured, like everything else he did. I wanted to believe I was ready. But the tightness in my chest told me something else. I wasn't sure I was ready for whatever was coming. Or for him to see me the way he did.

As the night stretched on and the last of the guests began to file out, I stood with my father, surrounded by a soft hum of distant chatter. His words, though, echoed in my mind, a slow drip of reality that I couldn't quite shake. The real work ahead. The pressure. The stakes.

I glanced at him, noticing how the years had worn away at the sharpness of his features, leaving only the resolute, steady presence I had come to rely on. His gaze softened when it met mine again, and the pride in his eyes made something inside me tighten. But it wasn't just pride. It was expectation. And that was what made it heavy.

"We've got a few more hours of this before I get back to the grind," I said lightly, trying to steer the conversation into something I could control, something that didn't carry that weight.

Father chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "You think this is just another meeting? Another gala?"

I swallowed, feeling the edge of my smile falter for a moment. "No, but I'm used to everything running smoothly. I'll be fine, Father."

His gaze remained steady, and for a brief moment, I saw the quiet storm that sometimes hid behind the polished exterior. "You don't get to be fine anymore, Anastasia. Not in this world. Things are about to change, and you need to be ready for that."

I stood there in silence, feeling the weight of his words press against my chest. The room had emptied, the glittering crowd gone, but it felt like the real event had just begun. My father's gaze never wavered, as if he were preparing me for something I wasn't yet ready to see.

"Remember this moment, Stassie," he said, his voice low. "The world doesn't care about your comfort, your plans, or your expectations. It doesn't wait. It only takes."

As the last of the guests filtered out, I lingered there, caught between my father's quiet certainty and the distant echo of Padmé's warning. The noise of the evening seemed to dissolve, and I was left with my thoughts only. The path ahead was already laid out before me, and it wasn't as simple as I had imagined.

I glanced once more at my father, his figure standing resolute in the dimming light, and something within me shifted. The weight of expectation, the world beyond these walls, and the challenges I had yet to face—all of it settled into place. I wasn't just playing a part anymore. I was about to step into something far bigger.

And I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.

But I knew, in that moment, that I didn't have a choice.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I'm so happy that this Commander Colt fic is finally coming to life 🥹

You can find the next chapter here and my masterlist here x

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allgoodnamesrgoneee · 22 days ago

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✨ New Patreon Upload! ✨

Hey everyone! I’ve just uploaded a brand-new mini-series on my Patreon, and you definitely don’t want to miss it!

Head over now to check it out and show some love! 🙌

📖 Link in bio! ✨ Let me know your thoughts after reading! 💬

Chocolate Kisses & Unfortunate Meetings (Part 1)

Masterlist

(I really like this GIF 😏)

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where you meet in the most unexpected way.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x You

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 17.6k

Warnings! FLUFF! There is slight angst in this but only for the plot. They are so cute in this one, most of the fic is just fluff, NSFW! SMUT (18+), oral sex (f receiving), protected sex (again! I'm on a roll),

Preview

**********

The first crash startles you awake.

The sound punches through your sleep, pulling you out of the fragile cocoon of dreams and into the dark, cold reality of your room. You blink groggily, trying to adjust to the faint moonlight seeping through the blinds. Your heart hammers in your chest, erratic and loud, each beat drowning in the silence that follows. Maybe it was nothing—a branch hitting the side of the house or a stray cat knocking over the garbage bins outside.

But then comes the second crash, louder, sharper, and this time there’s no mistaking it. Something’s going on next door.

You sit up, gripping the edge of your blanket like it might somehow anchor you. Your mind whirs to life, shaky and sluggish, still heavy with sleep. Through the thin walls of your old house, the muffled thud of hurried footsteps drifts over, along with a faint scraping sound. Your heart sinks as unease prickles at the back of your neck.

Mrs. Miller.

The thought hits like ice water. She’s nearly seventy, widowed, and lives alone.

Sweet as sugar, Mrs. Miller bakes you lemon bars every Christmas, each piece wrapped in neat wax paper tied with twine. She knits you scarves in colors she knows you’ll never wear, and you thank her with a hug anyway, tucking them in the back of your closet with the others. The idea of her being in trouble sends a fresh jolt of adrenaline through your veins. If something happened to her—if she’d fallen, or worse—

You don’t let the thought finish.

Throwing off your covers, you leap out of bed, your breath already quickening.

You yank open your dresser drawer and grab the first pieces of clothing your hands land on. It isn’t until you’ve shoved your legs into a pair of fuzzy shorts—hot pink with a gaudy cartoon flamingo stitched on the side—that you realize what you’re wearing. You haven’t seen these in years. No time to change, though. You shove your feet into a pair of mismatched slippers, snag your phone from the nightstand, and rush for the door.

The January chill smacks you as soon as you step outside, sharp enough to bite through your shorts and oversized hoodie. Your breath fogs in the air as you make your way across the yard, the grass crunching under your feet. The porch light at Mrs. Miller’s house is off, an ominous sign, and the curtains are drawn tight over every window. Still, you spot a faint golden glow spilling out from the living room—a lamp left on, perhaps, or worse, someone who shouldn’t be there.

You hesitate on the threshold, your hand hovering over the doorknob. Something about this feels wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to turn back. Not when every instinct screams at you to make sure she’s okay. You press your lips together, mutter a quiet prayer to whoever might be listening, and try the knob. Unlocked.

“Mrs. Miller?” you call softly as you step inside, your voice trembling just slightly.

The living room is a mess. A chair is overturned near the coffee table, and an empty mug lies shattered on the floor, the tea it once held now a dark stain on the carpet. But it’s not the mess that makes your breath hitch—it’s the tall figure standing in the middle of it all.

He’s young, broad-shouldered, and decidedly not Mrs. Miller. Dressed in casual sweats, he’s clutching a suitcase in one hand, his face half-hidden under the shadow of his hood.

Your body reacts before your brain does.

**********

-Bianca🌻

#footballer x reader #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian fanfic #kylian imagines #kylian x reader #kylian x you #kylianmbappé #kylian mbappe

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 9 months ago

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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

TW: nsfw, angst

The lights of the amusement park in the dying day make the old wooden dock feel like a carnival, a happy place where only good things can happen. He’s snagged your hand in his again, giving your fingers an affectionate squeeze. You can’t help but notice that he slows his long stride to match yours. You get the feeling that it’s not often Detective Tom Ludlow takes the time to meander anywhere.

It’s possible that you lean your head on his shoulder.

When you reach the festively lit booth of the shooting gallery Tom lifts his arm, surprising you by guiding you in a little twirl. “Alright, Miss Oakley, you’re up.”

“Not fair, now I’m dizzy!” you giggle.

“Got a feeling I need any advantage I can get,” he teases. He pays the operator and you get to go first, with the air hose operated pistol. With the shots alloted you knock down 8 out of 8 ducklings, and you make a sad face for the fallen.

Tom takes the pistol with that signature smirk, and you can’t help but admire the way he squares up to the targets, all broad shoulders and spread feet.

You probably need your head checked.

He knocks down seven ducklings easily and doesn’t even look like he feels bad about it. The competitive part of you pouts, but it is his actual job to use an actual gun, so you don’t feel too bad. You know for sure he’s not going to miss the last one. However….

It’s really not your fault, that your awesome push up bra choses that moment to poke you. You have to adjust it, at that very moment. As you fidget with your strap and tug on your neckline to expose your cleavage Tom’s attention is drawn decidedly elsewhere–he misses his duck, and by the look he shoots you, you just know you’re going to pay for it.

The booth operator hands you the big stuffed bunny, and you give it a tight hug goodbye before handing him over to his new owner. “What’re you gonna name him?” You ask.

Tom pinches the fabric of your dress and tugs you forward so the pillowy creature is the only thing separating your bodies. “Oh, you just wait.”

You blink up at him, feigning innocence even as you crush your inner thighs together to relieve the awful ache between them. “That’s a weird name, but whatever you like.” You even add in a little shrug.

His smile is a curved knife—his smile goes straight to your clit, if you’re being honest.

After that little scene, you shouldn’t be jumping at the bit to get locked inside a Ferris wheel compartment alone with him, but you are.

And Tom, not one for wasting time, wrestles you into his lap immediately after the ride starts, dress sleeve falling down your arm, hem ridden up to show your thighs, ass pressed against his clothed erection.

You feel so tiny and scared and helpless and safe in his sturdy lap. He brushes stray hair off your neck, makes your skin erupt in goosebumps, traces the curved line of throat from shoulder to dress sleeve, then tugs the fabric up into its rightful place.

“Aren’t you supposed to be undressing me?” You ask him, emboldened by the fact that you don’t have to look at him while saying it.

“Only sweet girls get to be undressed.” His fingers coast down your arm, leaving every hair raised in their wake, then ghost over your twitching belly, feeling the soft cotton wrinkles of your pretty sundress, taking far too much time inching up, up, up, finally feathering over your pebbled nipple, making your hips jerk and your breath catch on a throaty whine.

His hand travels further until it’s wrapped snug and soft around the front of your throat, tipping your jaw up and back.

“Am I hurting you, pretty girl?” His lips are almost, fucking almost pressed against the sensitive shell of your ear and you get the unhinged urge to scream in frustration.

His other hand slides into the space at the back of your right knee and unsticks your leg from the other one so you can’t press an ounce of this terrible need out of your center. “Answer me.”

“No.” You hardly recognize your own whiny voice.

He rocks his hips up into your soft bottom, and you can’t hide the groan that the feeling of his hardness sinking an ident into your softness elicits.

“Serious question,” he asks.

“Hu-uhh?”

“Was anyone ever patient enough to not just immediately fuck you?”

“Honestly, not really,” you admit, thinking back to previous partners who were convinced foreplay meant giving you a single hickey. You resist the urge to tell him about Dr. Mercer, because you have a feeling Tom really will hurt him badly if he knows the extent of how he made you feel unwanted, and afraid.

“Can’t say I blame them,” he tells you, finally pressing his stubble against the hypersensitive space behind your ear.

You want to ask him the same question, but it’s hard to make words when he’s kissing your cartilage, inhaling your scent, flicking his tongue out to taste the tip of your ear while his right hand absently tickles the back of your knee. Just really fucking teasing the shit out of poor you.

“Look outside,” he urges, and you open eyes that you didn’t realize had fluttered shut.

Below you, the pier glows and glitters rainbow bright, stark against a dark, churning ocean and inky sky. You are suspended at the highest point, stuck right at the top, and your tummy flips a little bit at the thought until it realizes that it’s completely safe wrapped up in Tom’s embrace.

He himself seems a bit distracted, and you use the opportunity to turn your head and kiss his cheek—the angle is awkwardly off, so it ends up being more of a peck to the side of his beautiful nose, but it gets the point across, and this impenetrable fortress of a man flusters below you, a hint of peach lighting the bridge of his nose and cheeks.

He looks absolutely—heartachingly—adorable, and you regret doing it only because this dumbfounded puppy side of him makes you want him in more ways than just physical. Fuck, you want to keep this man. It’s terrifying.

Of course, he’s got to show you up, releases your throat in favor of pushing his fingers into your hair and turning your body so that you’re across his lap rather than in it. One arm supports your back and head while the other lifts both your legs up onto the bench. It’s a perfect position to kiss in, and he’s leaning down, nose brushing your own, lips a half inch away from where you need them to be.

You close your eyes, mouth popping open, every inch of you tense and ready and wanting, but Tom Ludlow does not kiss you. He stays just out of reach, driving you crazy.

You try to make contact after an eternity of him being right there right there right there, but he just holds you in place and tickles your lips with the warm air from his chuckle.

After an aching eternity of madness, he leans in, and makes this so much worse for you, ever so softly placing a wet, tiny kiss to your upper lip before pulling away and making you pant and writhe.

You want to tell him you hate him when he grins that knowing grin, but that would be another lie, because you’re starting to do the opposite of hate him, and it’s far too soon for that feeling to overtake you.

“Tom.” You brace your hands on his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I kinda made this vow to myself when I first moved here that I would be alone with myself for a while. That I would, I don’t know, kind of find myself?”

“So, you’ll bend your rules for a bitch Doctor, but not me?” Instead of angry, his demeanor is outwardly jealous, boyish, pouty. It makes you feel like the biggest jackass on planet earth, and that’s really saying something because you know from experience there are a large number of jackasses residing on this little blue orb.

If there’s one thing about Tom Ludlow, it’s his ability to call you out on your bullshit and expose every part of your charade before it can even really get started. “You’re right, but Julian was a fluke. If anything, he solidified the need to find myself without anyone else in the way.” You decide to not mention the fact that Julian respectfully asked you out instead of harassing you, which greatly influenced your decision of who to go on a date with in the first place.

You watch his jaw tense, vision narrow. He sucks the inside of his cheek. “See, the problem with that is, I’m the one in the way now, and it’s going to be hard to get me to move.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t felt like this in a long fucking time, and it’s not just something you let go without a fight.”

You have a feeling he excels at fights.

The Ferris wheel churns to life, sending you down from heaven, breaking the tight intensity of the moment.

You take the attack of opportunity, snatch Mr. Bunny from the seat, and shove his face into Tom’s while making a kissing sound.

“You little weirdo.” He’s laughing, pushing the stuffed animal away half heartedly, rolling his eyes at the childish distraction that’s actually working splendidly.

He grabs the fat toy from you and holds it high into the air. You start to scramble up on him to get to it, but he wraps a restraining arm around your waist.

You can’t reach Mr. Bunny, but you can—finally—press your mouth over his own, giving the same teasing treatment, just a little chaste peck on the lips.

You try to pull back, but he’s got other plans, braces the entire back of your head in his hand and pulls you into his open mouth. His caveman and your cavewoman clash with fervent tongue and teeth. The stuffie drops forgotten while you attempt to meld. His hands are desperate, urgent, like he can’t get enough of you at once. And you don’t think you’re doing any better, because although sporting less brawn, you are just as frantic, grabbing at his short, velvet hair, fisting his shirt in your hand to pull him further against you despite being so smashed together already that you can hardly breathe.

You’re grateful for being on an ending carnival ride in public, because if you were in any sort of private setting, you’d be ripping this man’s clothes off to get him closer.

The look this man gives you as you exit the carriage could start a wildfire. He tugs you against him and slings his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into the shelter of his strong body. It really shouldn't make you feel so invincible as it does, but you feel untouchable under his wing. You make your way down the pier, and you giggle like a little girl when he buys you a cotton candy. You share the sweet treat, the sugar melting on your tongue like your resolve to resist this man.

Fuck. You’ve got it bad.

When you reach the end of the pier you cut down to walk by the water. Tom offers to carry your sandals for you. “Sure you can handle it?” you tease, looking at the bunny. “You’ve got quite an armful.”

“I think I’ll be alright.”

“I’ll be expecting to see that stuffie on your dash the next time you pull me over,” you inform him with an insouciant grin.

“I still gotta pull you over to get some action?” he fires back, tugging you against him. It steals your breath away, and you toy with his collar, mainly to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Tom…?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Is that…something you’ve done before, to get girls?”

You think you know the answer, but your heart is in your throat anyway.

“No. Just you.”

You feel a little braver, lifting your eyes to meet his. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” He seems genuinely puzzled.

“Why me?”

“There was just something about you, sweetheart. When you walked into the room and put me back together again that night–I felt my whole world change.”

You can’t stop yourself from biting your lip. If he’s lying–feeding you lines, the way so many other men have–it will destroy you. You can just feel it in your bones.

“I get the feeling you don’t believe me?”

“I want to,” you tell him, and mean it. “I really want to.”

An ambitious wave chooses that moment to crash around your ankles. You screech, the cold water a shock to your bare skin. Tom scoops you up and swings you to dry land, grinning like a feral tiger with your body wrapped up in his strong arms. He kisses you, really kisses you, nearly lifting you off the ground with his ardor. Your tongue slides against his, and you fancy he counts every single one of your teeth as he bends you over his arm. When at last you part he presses his forehead to yours. “I’m going to be honest with you.”

Oh lord. Here it comes. When a man says something like that to you…it always seems to end in disappointment, somehow. You can’t stop yourself from curling your fingers in his shirt, hiding against his broad chest. You’re not ready. There’s nothing you ever could have done to prepare yourself for this man–maybe deep down, you knew it all along.

“What?” you ask, bracing yourself.

He huffs with laughter, but there’s also an edge to it, his fingers digging into your sides. “I’ve been losing my goddamn mind thinking about how sweet your pussy must taste.”

He can’t see it, but at first all you can do is blink. You should slap him, but instead you just feel weak in the knees. You must make a little noise while tucked up under his chin, because he smirks at you before catching your mouth again.

“I’m starting to think my little nurse likes it when I talk dirty to her.”

“Officer Ludlow, you are a walking sexual harassment violation.” But fuck you, if you don’t say it with a smile.

“Just you wait, baby.”

It almost sounds like a threat, and it sends a spear of molten desire straight to your core, your fingertips curling against his broad chest.

Somehow you manage to peel yourself off of him, tugging on his hand to walk down the beach a little longer. One more second and it was not going to matter how many people were milling around this warm California evening–you were going to tear off his shirt.

Maybe he senses this tension singing down your spine, thrumming like a tuning fork, because he squeezes your fingers in his, leaning over to kiss your temple. “I got you that worked up?” he teases, and you know you should just fucking relax, because he’s already told you that he has good intentions, as insane as that might sound, but you just can’t help but grit your front teeth. To be fair–he’s the one who started all this, and as usual, you’re pretty sure you’re the one who’s risking getting hurt.

"Can I be real with you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm just so fucking tired of being used. I don't know if it's this town, or what, but everyone is so in love with themselves, and everyone has their own agenda..." You sigh, afraid you sound like a crazy person, and a whiner on top of it. "Nevermind."

But he pulls you closer, and he could have pushed you over with a feather after saying, "I get it, believe me. I know we got off to a rough start, but…I meant what I said. I like you. And, if you want, I’ll go find Doctor Bitch right now and make him regret the night his ugly ass Ivy League parents decided to make him.”

You don't know why those simple words crush you inside, but you grip his big hand like he's the last thing you've got to hold on to.

Still, you’ve heard this all before, so a massive part of that protective mind of yours is reluctant to believe anything anyone says let alone talk, dark, handsome men.

“I see you fighting with yourself in there, y/n.” He brings you back from the thorny forest of your thoughts, and you look into his dark, far too perceptive eyes.

Now that he has your attention—he’s never really lost it since you saw him that first night bleeding out in your waiting room—he tucks hair behind your ear and says, “I told you, I can be patient. Trust me.”

“That’s, uh, hard to believe.”

He laughs a little as if at some inside joke. “Want to get a drink? It might do us both some good.”

The margarita you’d had with dinner was excellent, but maybe didn’t have quite enough tequila in it to get you through the night with this man.

“Yeah. That sounds excellent.” It sounded essential, if you were being honest.

***

The bar he brings you to isn’t exactly a dive, but it’s definitely his spot. Everyone seems to know him, and there’s a tickling little thrill in the back of your mind, as you think about how it’s almost like he’s showing you off.

He orders a shot of vodka and a beer. You opt for your favorite vodka cranberry.

“How did you score a date with a nice girl like this?” teases the bartender, and you can tell there’s no malice in it, just friendly ribbing between Guys™.

“Once in a while, even an asshole like me gets lucky,” Tom answers with a smirk, pulling your barstool closer. You find yourself tangled in his long legs, and you’re pretty sure you like it that way.

Tom was right. The drink does do the trick, and you feel yourself relax, even as he keeps finding excuses to touch you, his fingertips on your arm or his big hand engulfing your knee. You lean close so you can hear each other over the requisite noise of the bar, and maybe it’s just the vodka, or the low lights, but his dark eyes shining for you from so close ties your heart up in knots.

You chat for a little while, finish your drink, and before you can stop him he orders you a new one with an insouciant grin. “I gotta hit the head,” he tells you, kissing your cheek before sliding off his stool.

“Okay.”

You try not to. You really do. But you can’t stop yourself from watching him–coming or going, that man is a menace.

It isn’t long before someone hops up on the stool next to you. “Sorry, that seat’s taken,” you say with your best apologetic smile. It’s a man about Tom’s age, with a tight crew cut and a sharp look that just screams LEO, even though he’s in plainclothes. With a glance you see his badge clipped to his belt.

“Oh yeah?” he says with a smile like a razor blade, a hard glint in his blue eyes. “Couldn’t help but notice you’re here with Ludlow.”

“Yeah? So?”

“I’d be careful, I was you. Be a shame, to end up like his wife.”

Your heart spins into freefall at hearing this.

His wife? Is Tom married?

You know your surprise and horror is written all over your face–this asshole enjoys it way too much.

#tom ludlow x reader #street kings #keanuverse fic #keanuverse #x reader

85 notes · View notes

charincharge · 11 months ago

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I Don't Want To Wait, sixty-eight

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

AN: I said I was back, and I meant it! Anyway, if you haven't read the last update, this is the second update this week. That's right. New Chapters 67 and 68. NSFW-ish warning.

Aelin was exactly seven minutes early to her interview. She’d spent the last week emptying her closet and putting together the perfect outfit – a sweater dress, tights, and boots that were just the right level of put together – and mapping out exactly how long it would take to get to Xavier’s house, so she could feel the most prepared walking in. She would not be late to the most important meeting of her life. No way.

She slid out of the jeep and waved goodbye to Rowan, who promised to be waiting at the closest coffee shop until she was ready to be picked up. She assumed it’d be around thirty minutes, but she honestly had no idea how long this interview would take. It wasn’t like she had any experience. Looking around, Aelin took a deep breath and took her first step down the long driveway and toward her future. She gained confidence with each step, feeling her stride lengthen and solidify as her chunky boot heel crunched the gravel beneath it.

They were definitely in the wealthier part of Orynth, closer to where Lysandra’s family lived. Sprawling lawns and expertly manicured greenery dotted her winding path. It felt so different than her own tiny street with closely stacked duplexes and shared family homes that she felt a small tug of insecurity before reminding herself that she was prepared for this. Both her dad and Rowan would attest to that. She’d put them through their paces, going over the “best answers” to potential questions that ranged from her favorite book (The Secret Garden — to lead into her thoughts on why lack of autonomy within the disabled communities is a problem) to what she planned to study (an interest in biology and pre-med with flexibility to also take liberal arts classes) all the way to challenges she’d had to overcome and how she’d personally be an excellent addition to the Wendlyn community. Those were too complicated to boil down into small snippets. But she had the bullet pointed lists laid out in her head, ready to be explained and fully ready for engagement. Honestly, as nervewracking as this whole situation was, she felt prepared. She reassured herself one more time, scrolling through her list of answers over and over, until she reached the oversized front door. In the middle of it all was a door-knocker so large and cumbersome she hoped she could lift it.

Another deep breath. She could do this. No matter how rich and fancy this person was. Whatever laid on the other side of that door, she was ready and prepared for.

She inhaled, filling up her lungs with extra reassurance, but as she lifted her hand to raise what was surely a heavily weighted solid brass knocker, the wind was completely knocked from her chest. Of all the things she had prepared herself for, she had not anticipated this one single thing that could fully derail her.

Before Aelin knew what was even happening, she could feel herself shrinking at the sight before her. She’d know that perfectly coiffed hair and polite smile anywhere.

“Mom?”

“Aelin,” Evalin said, leaning in to kiss her on both her cheeks, surely leaving behind smudges of her burgundy lipstick on Aelin’s pale cheek.

She leaned back and looked Aelin up and down, her crystal eyes pausing and practically flinching at the tiny snag in Aelin’s tights. She’d only had that one pair and even went over it with clear nail polish to make sure it wouldn’t pull or run more, fully assured that Xavier wouldn’t be looking at the side of her shin where her boot met the tights. But she hadn’t anticipated Evalin’s eagle eyes pulling apart every slight detail, searching for anything out of place to berate her for. “Don’t you look lovely,” Evalin continued, though the downturn of her lips as she touched Aelin’s sweater dress gave her real feelings away. Evalin chuckled as she stepped aside, letting Aelin enter into the large dark foyer.

“Why don’t you take off your coat, darling?” Evalin said, reaching her hand out.

Aelin cleared her throat, trying not to let the slight choking feeling overtake her and draw in a steady breath as she finally got out a soft, “Mom, what are you doing here?”

If Evalin was fazed in the slightest, she didn’t show it at all. But Aelin had never felt so small. She had worked so hard to put together this outfit, and now that her mom was looking at it, she knew it was all wrong. The sweater dress had been put through the wash one too many times, tiny pills forming in its most worn spots. Evalin would have shaved them off. Or bought Aelin a new dress. She’d make sure that Aelin had a fresh haircut, none of her desperately-in need-of-trimming dead ends left unevenly past her shoulders. She tugged at the sleeve of her sweater dress as her coat disappeared from her shoulders, suddenly feeling naked without it. There was a tiny thread coming undone from the hem of the sleeve, and she knew that without a doubt Evalin would clock it. The woman missed nothing. She should have tugged it and tried to remove it immediately, but all she could feel was shock and horror. Needing something to do, she untucked her hair from behind her ear, letting it tumble forward, but of course that was the wrong thing to do. Aelin could never do the right thing. Be the right way. Be good enough to keep her mom happy. To keep her around, even.

She swallowed the thick lump in her throat as Evalin frowned and straightened her shoulders back, warning Aelin silently to do the same. As she retucked the thick gold wave behind Aelin’s ear, her furrowed brow melted away, replaced by a smile only reserved for others.

“Xavier, please meet my beautiful daughter, Aelin,” she said with a sweep of her hand. It took everything in Aelin not to flinch as the hand gestured toward her. Instead, she donned her most polite smile — ruing the way it felt like an Evalin reproduction — and bowed her head and curtsied, instinctively.

Xavier chuckled. “Oh, my. Look at that,” he said as his elbow nudged into the air by Evalin’s side. “Impeccable manners, of course. I would expect nothing less from an Ashryver,” he continued, his tone light as he ushered Aelin further into the cavernous foyer.

Xavier was everything she should have expected but was somehow unprepared for. He was Evalin in male form. His thick blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, swooping gently over his forehead in a way that told Aelin is had taken hours of work and product to get it to look so natural. He was tall but reedy, like someone who spent a lot of time mixing up green smoothies, per his personal trainer’s request. His navy suit was clean and pressed, sharp with creases that told the world he was someone with something important to say. Shiny cufflinks glinted in the mid-afternoon sun, and Aelin knew if she looked close enough they’d be monogrammed with a flourished script.

“But no need for formalities,” he continued, oblivious to Aelin’s turmoil. “Your mother and I go way back. In fact, our parents’ parents go way back. Evie and I were friends long before our time together at Wendlyn.”

Aelin nearly choked at the use of the nickname for her mother. She’d never heard anyone address her as anything other as her full name, and it took Aelin aback that this man was not only allowed to use this familiarity but received a smile in return for it.

“We were bred in the same kennel, as my father used to say,” Xavier said scratching at his too clean-shaven chin. It was red and shiny and Aelin wished she could stop staring at it and listen to him again. “I can’t remember a holiday I didn’t spend with the Ashryvers,” he droned on. But Aelin’s mouth was faster than her filter.

“But I’m not an Ashryver. I’m a Galathynius,” she said. Two pairs of eyes widened but melted quickly back into an amused gaze.

“Hi, ho. A spitfire, just like her mom. That’s the Ashryver spark for sure,” Xavier said, ignoring Aelin’s growing discomfort.

Because she wasn’t an Ashryver. She was a Galathynius.

“Who, me?” Evalin batted her lashes and giggled, feigning innocence. Flirting. Aelin’s mom was flirting with this man. This alum. Right in front of her. She swallowed again, biting down the ire rising in her throat. She hated it here. She would do anything to send a fire signal to Rowan to come and pick her up immediately, but, no. She had an interview to complete still. An alum to impress. Aelin could feel her heartbeat quickening as she realized that she still had an interview to complete. That her mom would bear witness to this whole thing. She just wanted to get it overwith and be out of her presence as quickly as possible.

“Can we get started?” Aelin cut off the man, who was clearly surprised.

“Ah yes,” he fumbled with his thumbs and shoved them into his pocket before taking one back out and gesturing down a long dark hallway. “The study is right this way.”

Study. So formal.

She looked down the long hallway and tried her best to grasp at any of the tendrils of her waning confidence, but it was fruitless. Aelin had never felt so out of place, like such a fraud. Here she was, pretending to be Wendlyn material, but that wasn’t her; that was Evalin.

Evalin, who had grown up with this man, knowing that her future held the glowing promise of a Wendlyn future. Evalin walked through this home as if she belonged there, looking completely at home. But as Aelin traversed the dark portrait-lined hallway down to the study, she could feel the sharp stares of the painted faces judging her with every cautious step. You don’t belong here, they seemed to mock, their pinched noses and haughty smirks watching as Aelin’s chunky boot heel step on the delicate mosaic tile beneath her feet. She didn’t want to think about how expensive these fancy floors were, and the fact that her $20 boots were most likely leaving black rubber smudges against them.

While Lysandra’s family home was fancy, it was nothing like this – whereas her house was bright and wide and open and modern, this expansive home was dark and crowded with ornate moldings and décor that felt like it could close in on Aelin at any second. She managed to keep her feet steady, despite the long walk down the seemingly never-ending hallway. She could hear Xavier maintaining casual conversation with Evalin, but Aelin stayed quiet, fully focusing on maintaining her stride and praying that she wouldn’t stumble and fall or accidentally break something. Foreboding crept up Aelin’s spine as Evalin fell into pace beside her and smoothed out the fabric of her sweater dress against her back. She could feel her picking off an imaginary piece of lint from the shoulder just so she could dig her fingers into her bicep and pull her close.

“Behave, please,” Evalin whispered through clenched teeth, causing Aelin to stumble, just as she’d feared she would. “Careful, darling,” Evalin drawled in a much lighter tone. “These floors are priceless.”

“You break it, you bought it,” her mother and Xavier said in unison as he pushed open the door to his study. They both laughed as it was something hilarious from their youth, but all Aelin heard was – You’re not one of us. Again and again and again.

Aelin blinked at the harsh expanse of daylight that filtered through the floor to ceiling windows lining the wall of the study. Thick burgundy drapes were pulled back to allowing a shock of grey-white sky to cast its milky pallor over the dark wood room, somehow leeching it of any warmth, despite the burgundy and mahogany color scheme.

“Ah yes, it’s quite the view, isn’t it?” Xavier chuckled as he gestured to the frost-laden yard that seemed to go on for miles and miles. “You can see the mountains in the distance on a clear day. When we first bought this place, the neighbors behind us were trying to plant trees in our view, which turned into a bit of a legal battle. But it ended up alright. We bought them out, and now we have a perfect view.” His voice was haughty with pride at the notion of buying someone out of their home. Aelin’s stomach curled at the notion that one person could be so selfish. But still, she put on her best smile and nodded politely. Evelyn would tolerate no less.

Still smiling smugly, Xavier waved Aelin over to the large leather loveseat where Evalin was already perched. But Aelin didn’t want to sit next to Evelyn. She couldn’t think with her hovering so close — all her well-prepared answers had floated to the recesses of her memories, blocked by the constant perusal of her mother’s perfectly controlled facial expressions. But as Xavier slid into the arm chair across from them, Aelin was at a loss. There was nowhere else to sit. She’d have to sit next to her mother.

As she slid onto the stiff couch, the skirt of her dress rode up slightly, catching on the leather. But before she could even it out, Evalin was there, doing it for her. Always hovering. Always watching. Aelin didn’t even realize that Xavier had asked her a question, until she heard her mother’s sharp whisper. “Don’t be rude, Aelin. Answer.”

“Hm?” Aelin’s head whipped up, watching Xavier face lips tug downward into a slight frown.

“Xavier was just asking what you’re interested in studying?” Evalin repeated, her blue-grey eyes staring a hole into Aelin.

Aelin knew she had an answer for this. She’d talked about the phrasing with Rowan over and over about why it was actually a benefit that she wasn’t completely sure what she wanted to study yet. That it allowed for… curiousity? Flexibility? No, that wasn’t what she’d wanted to say. The words were completely mixed up in her head, and she couldn’t make heads or tales of them. With every flash of her mom’s eyes, Aelin’s rehearsed answers disappeared further and further until all that was left was a gaping black hole of confusion in her anxiety-addled brain. What was she supposed to say? She had no idea. Literally none. She couldn’t do this. Oh god. She couldn’t do this.

Aelin swallowed back the threat of tears as she croaked out a quiet, “I don’t know.”

“Aelin has many interests,” Evalin jumped in, placing her perfectly polished nails on Aelin’s knee. “She’s trained in ballet and is extremely creative.”

She should have said something about how she had just joined Orynth’s Dance Company. About her time spent teaching last fall, how dancing was for fun and she wasn’t sure she’d want to pursue it professionally but she loved that Wendlyn had recreational dance teams she could participate in. That was the answer she’d rehearsed. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth and brain work together.

“Ah, so perhaps a performing arts major?” Xavier asked. “I myself studied the bard and was in a play or two back in my day. Wendlyn has a thriving theater department. We even have quite a few celebrity alums,” he continued, oblivious to Aelin’s complete mental shutdown.

“No,” Aelin said. Apparently she couldn’t even explain more than that. She could see the corners of Xavier’s eyes tightening uncomfortably as he watched Evalin’s hand grasp Aelin’s knee – the edges of her dark red gel tips sinking into Aelin’s tights, as the conversation plummeted into a dead silence.

“Right,” Xavier cleared his throat, clearly at a loss. Aelin could feel her stress welling as he continued, hopeful, knowing that her next answer was sure to be another disappointment. Just like her entire being. “Well... perhaps you’d like to tell me about why you’re interested in Wendlyn?” he asked.

And though Aelin knew she had a full essay response for that exact question, she simply shrugged and let him continue his list of questions, each one said with less curiosity as Xavier realized what Aelin had feared: she wasn’t Wendlyn material. And with each question and answer, Aelin knew her chances of getting into college with Rowan were quickly disappearing.

. . .

Aelin had been in a mood in the days following her interview with Xavier and she who shall not be named. But, she was trying her very hardest to keep a smile on her face and pretend like she was totally fine. Mostly because today was Rowan’s first lacrosse game of the season, and he needed her in the stands cheering him on, not sulking about her botched interview. It wasn’tthat she wasn’t a fully supportive girlfriend, but she wasn’t feeling particularly into lacrosse — the sport that was fully responsible for handing Rowan a future that she so clearly wasn’t going to be a part of. She wanted him to do well, but an uncomfortable feeling of panic was pressing against her chest, and it was taking everything in her to put a smile on her face. And Aelin was a lot of things, but a spectacular actress was not one of them.

To Rowan’s credit, he was letting her feel her feelings without pushing. He’d asked how the interview went upon picking her up, and Aelin had simply snapped and said, “Bad.” When he pushed for any more information, she shut him down completely and she could feel a thick wall of armor rising. She’d been furious, practically shaking with anger, but for some reason, hadn’t want to share her mom’s surprise appearance with him. She’d told him that she’d talk when she was ready, and even though she knew he wanted to push, he accepted what she’d asked for. She wasn’t ready to talk about it. She had other things to think about. Like figuring out any other plan for her future that still included Rowan.

Which is why that Friday morning, she donned her green and gold best, tied her long braided pigtails with the #47 ribbons she’d decorated in puffy paints last year, and woke up early to grab a few special treats for her boyfriend on his big day. Before this whole debacle, she’d asked Maeve if she could make a batch of Rowan’s favorite peanut butter cookies, decorated like his jersey, and sure enough, they were waiting on the counter with two coffees when she let herself into their townhouse. She could hear the shower running upstairs, along with a loud blaring bass of one of Rowan’s pump-up playlists, and she forced herself to take a deep breath and push aside any traces of residual insecurity and focus on Rowan. It was his big day, and she knew he was nervous. He always was.

Within minutes, she heard his heavy step skipping every other stairs as he descended into the kitchen where she was waiting, and his smile upon seeing her there temporarily melted away her bad mood entirely. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get over receiving that look from him.

“Happy game day, Captain,” Aelin said, smiling widely.

His arms surrounded her, sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, as he leaned in and pulled her against his chest. He smelled warm from his shower, and she took a moment to inhale the comforting scent of his pine body wash combined with something just innately Rowan.

“Coffee?”

She held out the cup in his direction, but he ignored it in favor of kissing her. Who was she to disagree? She let herself melt into it, letting her anxieties disappear for the moments his mouth was on hers.

“Missed you,” he mumbled, and she couldn’t help but laugh against his lips.

“You saw me less than nine hours ago.”

“Too long.” He pulled her even closer and went back in for another kiss, this time with more fervor. His tongue slid between her lips, and she could feel herself getting slightly carried away as their bodies pressed together even tighter. Her grasp on the coffee cup in her hand was getting dangerously loose when he finally pulled away, resting his head against her forehead and bringing the coffee to his lips.

“Mmmm. Delicious.”

“Me or the coffee?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“Both.” He leaned in and kissed her one more time. “I wish we had time to go upstairs, but…”

“Someone has a game to kick ass in today, and missing first period is probably a bad way to start that off, huh?”

He nodded sadly, but the mischief didn’t completely leave his green eyes as he looked her up and down. “But maybe during lunch?”

Aelin couldn’t control the burst of laughter that bubbled up her throat. “A pre-game warm up?” she teased.

“Always.” He let his hand fall to the swell of her butt, pinching it lightly and causing Aelin to yelp in surprise.

“Be nice or I’m not giving you your cookies.”

Rowan raised his brow. “You baked?” he asked, rightfully skeptical. After all, he spent most of his time with Aelin and he would have definitely noticed if she’d disappeared to Maeve’s for a few hours without him.

“I had help,” Aelin said, procuring the tray of decorated cookies.

His excitement couldn’t be contained as he leaned back in for yet another kiss, but Aelin knew that if they kept this up they definitely would be late for school.

“Later,” she promised, hoping that would keep her spirits afloat.

But as soon as she waved goodbye to Rowan in the hallway, all her doubts came flooding back. She parsed through every second of her time with Xavier and her mom, wondering if there was any world in which that interview could have been construed as positive, but she knew in her heart the truth. She had bombed. Big time. Not just a minor bomb. That whole afternoon had been a full nuclear wipeout with no survivors left standing. She’d killed her own opportunity, and she’d never forgive herself for it.

By the time lunch came around, Aelin was so deep into her self-pitying wallowing that she felt like she was being suffocated by negativity. She’d hoped that seeing Rowan would brighten her spirits, as it had this morning, but apparently that’d been a fluke. She was just as prickly as ever, barely even smiling when he greeted her with a giant bear hug, spinning her around the hall in an exuberant whirlwind. In fact, her mood was made even worse by the flurry of cheerleaders who giggled in his presence, blushing as they wished him luck in tonight’s game. She practically hissed as one got too close, flashing her canines in feral warning.

“Ease up, Ace,” Rowan chuckled as he led her out to the far side of the parking lot where the jeep was parked.

“Stupid fucking cheerleaders,” she grumbled as she slid into the back seat. She was so in her head that she barely even noticed Rowan driving to their special secluded spot — a nearby parking lot that was midway through some sort of construction when it had been fully abandoned. She was sure the crews would come back one day, but for now, it was perfect for their, uh… needs.

Rowan joined her in the back seat and pulled her onto his lap with skilled ease, as if they’d been doing this for years, rather than merely weeks. But it was good. She was on full autopilot. Aelin’s body knew exactly what to do without being in her brain at all. Her hips rolled against his lap as his fingers tangled in her hair, clashing their teeth together in a harsh mingling of breaths and low groans. She didn’t wait for him as she pulled her top off, and allowed her head to fall back as his mouth trailed down her neck and to the bare expanse of her cleavage. Gods, she loved him so much. What was she ever going to do without this? She tried to imagine a world where she didn’t get to be this close to Rowan, but all she saw was a gaping painful hole in her hear heart. She felt her throat closing slightly and swallowed down the threat of emotion she’d careful kept walled up all week.

“Ace?” Rowan looked up at her with concern, clocking the change in her breathing, but she forged forward. She would not lose any time with him. She’d take advantage of every second they had together. Clothed and unclothed.

“I’m good,” she reassured him,

But she knew he could feel the slight waver in her touch as she reached down to his waist to unbutton his pants. His green eyes flashed in warning, but she ignored it, pulling him into her hand and tightening her grasp exactly as she knew he liked it. Autopilot.

Her hands regained their surety as she continued, lulling Rowan into a state of blissful arousal. She leaned in and bit his exposed throat as he leaned further into the seat, moving his hips into her hand. Her mouth opened and sucked at his skin. Hard. She wanted anyone who saw him to know that he was spoken for. That he was claimed. That he was hers. No matter what. She never wanted anyone else to know him like this, and she could feel her pulse stutter as she even considered the possibility of that. No.

She needed to refocus. Without removing her mouth, she reached for the condom he’d placed beside them on the seat and opened it. She leaned back just barely enough to make room to place it on him, not wanting to give him any space. That was the opposite of what she wanted. She could hear him groan a loud expletive as she slid on top of him and started to move. He fit so perfectly. No one else would ever fit like this. And when it was gone, she’d miss it so, so, so much.

“Oh, Ace.” She thought he was moaning her name in pleasure, but it wasn’t until he said, “Aelin, baby, stop,” that she clocked the tone was actually of concern. His face was blurry, and as she blinked, she felt that her cheeks were fully wet. Unbeknownst to her, silent tears had welled and dripped from the corners of her eyes in full, hot streams. “Baby, stop,” he said again, his hands going to her hips to still her, but her autopilot refused.

“No, it’s okay,” she said thickly. “I’m okay.”

“Aelin, you are not okay. You’re crying.”

She tried to keep her legs in a vice grip around his hips, but he was fully in control as he pulled her off of him and tucked himself back into his pants.

“No, no,” she croaked, her tears pouring out in earnest now. “We can keep going.”

“Ace, we’re not going to have sex while you’re crying.”

“I’m not crying,” she sniffed as his hands came up to her cheeks, wiping his thumbs against them. That seemed to be the thing that cracked her open, a full sob releasing from her mouth as her shoulders shook with the weight of the past few days. Rowan shushed her gently as he pulled her against him, rubbing comforting circles into her back. But she barely felt a thing. All she could feel was the hot sting of embarrassment and shame.

“Do you want to talk about it finally?” Rowan asked, but Aelin shook her head into his shoulder.

“N-no.”

“Okay.”

And she knew that he meant it. He’d sit there, erection still throbbing in his pants as she cried it out silently. That only made her cry harder. She owed it to him to tell him what had happened. She didn’t even know why she’d kept it to herself. Maybe she’d just wanted to pretend for a little longer that the future she’d imagined for them could happen.

“I blew it,” she finally said.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Rowan said. Her body was suddenly exhausted, and she couldn’t sit upright anymore. Or maybe she just couldn’t look at his face during this conversation. Instead, she slid until she was slumped across his lap and cuddling into the soft fabric of his pants. She struggled to calm her breath as he ran his dexterous fingers down her back and up again.

“You may as well break up with me now,” she sniffed.

Rowan’s hand paused on her back and tilted her ruddy face to look up at his concerned gaze. “Ace, I thought we talked about this. No matter what happens, we’re not breaking up.”

“That’s what you say now, but…” Another wave of tears took over as she sobbed. “What if you meet someone else? Some pretty and smart Wendlyn girl who fits into your world?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Rowan asked, seeming genuinely perplexed as his finger pushed aside the stream of tears on her hot cheek. “You fit in my world perfectly.”

“But all those girls at Wendlyn are going to be from upstanding families with two parents whose names are on libraries, and I bet they wear real pearls and have perfectly painted nails that are never chipped, and—”

“Aelin, what the fuck are you going on about? Why would I care about any of that?”

She bit her lip, sniffing back another round of tears as she finally told Rowan about Evalin’s surprise appearance and how of course she couldn’t have gotten that interview without Evalin’s help, tugging on those elite strings. And how clear it became that she was anything but that.

Rowan scratched at her scalp, and she leaned into his comforting touch.

“I don’t use the word hate lightly, but I fucking hate Evalin. What she did to you, surprising you like that with no warning was completely fucked up. She should have told you she was going to be there. Leaving you unprepared like that wasn’t going to help your chances, even if she thought being there would. You deserved a heads up. And the fact that she didn’t think you did just shows how little she understands about life. And you.” He took a deep breath. “And it’s okay to feel fucked up about what she did. But, Ace, it’s not okay to think I’m just going to suddenly disappear from your life if you end up at another college. That’s not going to happen. Never. Ever ever. I’m going to be in love with you for the rest of my life. Forever.”

“But—”

He held up a finger to her lips, shushing her. “But also, one person’s review of you isn’t going to make or break your college admission. You don’t know what anyone thinks of this Xavier dude. He could be hated! They could have him interview people as a barometer for who not to accept.”

“That feels highly doubtful, Ro,” Aelin laughed through the remnants of her tears. “But I appreciate your optimism.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s not over until the school year starts. And even then, it’s not over. Best case scenario, you get in with me for the fall. But there are a hundred other things that could happen before then. You could get waitlisted and get in, you could apply to transfer after a semester or a year, if you wanted. Or, other best case scenario, you love wherever you end up, and we still make this work with phone calls and video calls and weekend visits. Because I’m going to love you for the rest of your gods damned life, so stop trying to get rid of me,” he said, poking her cheek with each pointed word. “It’s insulting.” He paused, looking her over thoroughly, and it felt like he could really see through her in that moment, and she could hear his words before he even said them. “I’m not your mom.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Because I definitely don’t have my last name on any libraries. And I couldn’t tell you what a real pearl looks like if a million dollars were at stake. And guess what? I bite my nails, and the only reason Evalin even came around to the idea of me is because Wendlyn became interested in me. You think that I feel like I’m going to magically fit in there, but I doubt many students were raised by their single aunt and grew up working in her restaurant. I don’t have a trust. That’s why I needed this scholarship.” He paused. “If we’re weighing which one of us belongs at Wendlyn more than the other, only one of us is a legacy there, you know?”

“Okay,” she whispered, but the hurt was still so raw, and she felt ragged from her marathon of crying. She could feel Rowan still hard in his pants, and she felt awful. She went to reach for him, but he sternly put her hand back by her side.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“But—”

“We’ll celebrate after I win the game tonight,” he said.

And true to his word, they did.

#idwtw au #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #tog fic #rowaelin fic #throne of glass

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