#anyways they all time travel back and need his help and even though he has no idea who they are (except Eddie again) but he's still ready
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[Event Story] 3rd Anniversary -Mark of Glory-
Events Referenced: Ice Castle of Thaw
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Chapter 2: Trip for the Request
Yuhan: I see… Evidence that proves we’re worthy of receiving the reward…
Teddy: Even if they tell us that all of a sudden… What kind of evidence would be good?
Shiro: An angel’s head… would be impossible. Since they disappear as soon as they are defeated.
Bellen: …Shiro? Don’t just say something scary so nonchalantly.
Lucas: Fufu. There’s no need to think so hard about it.
Lucas: Finlay-sama has already taken care of that.
Lucas: What we have to do is… As delegates of the Central Lands, go to various places and deliver official letters.
Haures: Deliver letters…? That’s it?
Lucas: Yup. In those letters, “Please document the Devil Butlers’ contributions,” is written…
Lucas: We’ll bring those documents back with us, and it’ll become the “objective evidence” that proves we’re worthy of receiving the reward.
Fennesz: I see. So we’ll be having the people we’ve met so far provide proof of our accomplishments.
Fennesz: Having to ask them ourselves, though… It’s a bit embarrassing.
Lamli: But if we gather evidence… We’ll get a reward, right?
Lamli: Then let’s do it! If it’s just delivering letters, then it’ll be easy ♪
Hanamaru: Yup. We can just treat it like a small trip.
Hanamaru: If we’re “delegates”, that means the travel expenses will be covered by the Grovanner family, right? I’ll take what I can get.
Ammon: That’s right. Anyways, I’m glad this request isn’t hard.
Nac: Berrien-san, how many places will we be delivering letters to?
Berrien: There are four major places: Eastern, Western, Southern, and Northern Lands.
Berrien: Since it’s a chance to travel… And we have plenty of time before the deadline…
Berrien: I want Aruji-sama to be able to enjoy traveling to all the different places… What do you think?
> So we’ll be going to all the lands?
Berrien: Yes. It’ll be a long trip, but… Since we’ll be going to all the places we’ve been to up until now…
Berrien: I’m sure it’ll be a fun one.
Berrien: Fufu… It’s basically a trip around the world.
> It does seem fun.
Berrien: I’m glad. Then it’s decided.
Berrien: Next, we have to decide who will accompany Aruji-sama, but…
Berrien: Why don’t we change who’s accompanying Aruji-sama for each destination?
Miyaji: I see. Then it’ll be fair.
Miyaji: The butlers staying back at the mansion can also continue the ritual of prayers too.
Lono: Fine by me! If it’s alright, I’d like to go somewhere far away!
Bastien: Hmm… I see. If you do that, then you can spend a longer amount of time with Aruji-sama.
Bastien: I’d like to go somewhere far too then.
Lono: Hey! Don’t expose my plan! And don’t copy me!
Haures: Hm… We’ll decide who’s going where later…
Haures: First, we need to make preparations for the trip.
Flure: Yes! I have to hurry and make new outfits for so many people.
Bellen: Uhm… Make new outfits? For all of us?
> (So he’s making new ones after all…)
Bellen: Uhm… Flure-kun. Why do you need to make new ones?
Flure: Because we’re going to be visiting many places as delegates of the Central Lands, right?
Flure: Then as delegates we have to be dressed properly!
Bellen: As delegates… That makes sense.
Bellen: Wait a minute… I just agreed without thinking, but hold on.
Bellen: If we need proper outfits, then… Then aren’t our usual tailcoats enough?
Flure: Yeah, but… I want us to really look the part!
Flure: Ah, by any chance… Do you not like my outfits, Bellen-san…?
Bellen: Of course I like them. Your outfits are always the best.
Bellen: But making outfits for almost 20 people… Isn’t it a lot of work?
Flure: It is, but I’m so excited! Please look forward to them!
Bellen: G-Got it… If there’s anything I can help with, let me know.
Shiro: ……Flure…… When it comes to outfits, why do his eyes change?
Lato: Kufufu… When Flure gets like that, no one can stop him.
Lato: All we can do is help him, so he doesn’t work too hard on his own.
> Flure, don’t push yourself too much.
Flure: Yes! I’ll do my best without pushing myself!
Boschi: …What kind of response is that?
Muu: Fufu… Making outfits is a lot of work, so I’m worried about Flure-san, but…
Muu: At the same time, I’m also excited to see what kind of outfits he’ll make! Right, Aruji-sama?
> Yeah, me too.
And so the butlers and I will be delivering official letters to the various lands…
A few days later the trip preparations were finished, and we changed into the outfits Flure made for us…
First, I’ll be traveling to the Northern Lands with the first floor butlers.
【Central Lands - Snowy Mountain】
WHOOOOOSH…
Lono: Brr… S-So cold…
Berrien: The amount of snow is gradually increasing. Just as Bastien-kun said…
Bastien: Yeah. Good thing we decided to change route at the last minute.
Bastien: If we had continued going the other way to the northern border… We would have gotten stuck in the snow.
Lono: I-I don’t mind taking a detour, but… Is there really somewhere for us to stay on this snowy mountain?
Bastien: Yeah. Aruji-sama and Muu have been there before too.
Muu: Ah, that’s right… No wonder why I thought this looked familiar.
> If I remember correctly, along this path is…
Bastien: There it is.
Bastien: The “Ice Palace”... Aruji-sama, the others, and I stayed here before. It’s a noble’s mansion.
Berrien: …Oh my? Someone from the mansion is coming over here.
Step… step… step…
Shira: …Geez. I thought I saw people from the window, so I came to check…
Shira: I didn’t think it’d be you guys. Long time no see.
> Ah! It’s…
Muu: Shira-san! It’s been a while!
Berrien: So you’re Shira-san? It’s nice to meet you.
Berrien: I’ve been hearing about you for quite some time now. I’m Aruji-sama’s butler—
Shira: Yeah, yeah. Let’s save the introductions for later and go inside first.
Shira: It’ll be a pain if another incident happens. This way.
Lono: Brr… T-Thanks…
#akuneko#aknk#devil butler with black cat#akuneko translations#event story#3rd anniversary -mark of glory-#bellen is possibly the only one with a sense of normalcy
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I have a vision of like pre-S1 Steve Harrington with a glass bottle he broke as an improvised weapon but instead of cheap beer it's like,, fancy, imported sparkling water.
#i cant draw so everyone just has to imagine this#steve harrington#steve and the party#stranger things#this would be in a time travel situation#and the visual dissonance that forces the other party members (and probably Eddie) to realise that pre-UD steve#is not some weird clone or changeling#that he always had the capacity ability and desire to do good#just no opportunities because he was in a world where bad behaviour was essentially being rewarded 24/7#he said something bitchy and got a pat on the back but if he helped a freshman he'd probably be called a slur by his only friends#self protection isnt a crime and we never see s1 steve do anything as bad as characters act like he did?? people in later seasons talk to#and about steve like he was physically abusive and vile#but like legally jonathan did a whole sex crime and no one brings that up#anyways they all time travel back and need his help and even though he has no idea who they are (except Eddie again) but he's still ready#to protect them#wow this got very long and maybe should have been its own post#oh well#the duffer bros write like all jocks are evil and must be redeemed for liking sports. very weird behaviour please unpack that in therapy
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the hand that feeds you
— “i take care of her, s’all.”
johnny mactavish x f!reader
cw: 18+ work - minors dni; age difference; daddy issues (kinda the central plot); cooking as a love language; slow burn but in high speed; a breath of angst; power imbalance; canon divergence - regular/non-military life au // amazing divider by @gildui! // 6.5k words
extra notes: this is a very self-indulgent work. there are holes in the plot, 100%, so ignore those holes pretty pls </3 also ik this is more of a captain johnny-verse but midway through, i started projecting so i might’ve written him incorrectly and im really sorry for that!!
being roommates with johnny is not as weird as it is; he’s amicable, at first, then full blown nice when days passed. he’s not loud, per se, but there’s always a constant chatter streaming from his space, like he physically can’t sit still through the silence which is great because you don’t fare any better with the stillness too, so reminiscent of how it was in the suburbs.
you moved to a neighbourhood just skirting past the inner city just because it’s a lot cheaper. but even then, rent was always high and your little box in a rundown complex wasn’t going to sustain you forever even if you wished it would. then, an opening in johnny’s townhouse was posted, almost half-price than whatever is up in the market, and it’s great despite your skepticism. hell, it’s more than great — it’s lifesaving.
your shitty job at the bookstore really can’t cover much of your expenses anymore, and sure student loans and the grant is great, but the growing debt makes you wince so it’s whatever at this point. you’re about to graduate soon anyway, pooling work experience from volunteering and club organizations, and it’s not like you can even go back to how it was.
(underway to law school, primed up before your father’s scrutiny but the burnout got to you before you could even write the LNAT. you realized that being a barrister wasn’t really what you wanted so you changed programs, midway, and switched to children’s education.
god, the disappointment in your pa’s eyes was so big, you knew to pack your shit before he could even kick you out.)
it’s… tough.
god, is it tough. none of your old friends and colleagues could stay in contact, which you don’t hold against them because most of them, by now, have graduated and entered law school. you’re straggling about two years back because of the switch in programs, and everything’s gone too tight. your budget. your social life.
your dating life.
johnny often distracts you from it all — he works in downtown, in one of those high-rise buildings often reserved for limiteds or holding companies, and has to travel off the city every three months. he makes good money, he said jovially, and you know it’s a nudge as to why your portion of the rent is cheap in the first place.
when you finally bit the bullet and asked why he put up one of the rooms in the market, johnny just shrugged and said he needed someone to house sit but sort off permanently. said something like last time he left, the pipes bursted and he couldn’t really fly back to help with the repairs.
it’s great being with him. he’s bright and bubbly, but also dependable in ways you never really thought about. like—
well, it’s all mundane things so listing them feels embarrassing, and it makes you feel as though you’re a touch-starved damsel and johnny just so happened to be the next older man to give you any attention and his time. but you can’t help it. god, you can’t help preen at the way he exists beside you.
he’s just so… beautiful, is what it is.
rugged and charming and loud and filling. the townhouse is too big for the two of you, but johnny makes it work. makes it feel like the two of you just fit into each other’s spaces.
early mornings are spent with him lilting between english and scottish, his exhaustion plastered onto him even after he’s downed two cups of coffee. he bumps his hip onto yours when he ambles out to prepare for his work, grumbling something like good morning and how’re you. afternoons are more lively and productive; it’s of you coming back from campus at six in the evening only to find him in the kitchen, fixing up dinner. it’s always something fancy and rich in flavour; something he always eats with wine on the side.
you, uh, you never thought he could actually cook, let alone feed himself well, but there he was, always a plate ready for you too like it’s expected that you’ll eat dinner with him. like spending time with him was just natural — the sky is blue, the ocean’s deep, and you and johnny fall into each other like there is an invisible string pulling you close to him.
it’s a beautiful change of pace, and there are more days now when you can breathe in a little easier, and you know it’s all because of johnny. it’s all him who pulled you out of your slump and out of that darkness and gave you the room, literally, to grow.
he’s beautiful, but you’ve said that already, haven’t you? he’s just… so good to be with.
then, johnny began picking up and bringing some home.
.
the first time it happened was shocking, really.
you had an early morning, something that’s so murky now in your memories so you’re unsure if it was anything uni related or work related, just that it was five in the morning and you were clambering downstairs as quietly as you could. you rounded the length of the hallway from the platform to the kitchen when you ran into someone.
“steady,” she’d said, voice hoarse and loud in her shock too.
you yelled, jumping, arms swinging because was there an intruder, and it took johnny physically subduing you for you to calm down. looking back now, you burn in embarrassment, but then you had been so worried, your body wound up so tightly in your fear.
“shh,” johnny had murmured with that wry grin. “s’just me, lass.”
your eyes danced between him and the brunette — pretty even in her rumpled shirt, with long legs and a small waist — trying to understand what was going on. you are sure johnny had told you before that he wasn’t seeing anyone so who—
“your girlfriend?” she asked johnny, turning to him with her lips pursed and her brow cocked up.
the question settled in your stomach, doing wonders to your already-fragile psyche. you’d just spent hours thinking about johnny and what he meant to you; what living with him meant. how it eased up something carved within the trenches of your being, like you’d always been waiting for someone like him.
the question was a reminder, like prickling you with icicles, leaving you to navigate the swoop. but johnny had laughed, nothing mean but so dismissive that you felt the curl of shame brandishing from the base of your spine like johnny was laughing at you.
“oh, nah,” he replied, arm still slung over your shoulders. “she’s sorta my ward, yes? i take care of her, s’all.”
that’s all. you’re nothing more to him but a ward. a tenant. not even a friend—
she hummed, then leaned over to kiss johnny, her eyes still drawn to you like she’s watching, waiting for a reaction, and when she got none, she trudged to the door. you and johnny watched as she bent down to slip in her shoes, some stilettos with red bottoms, before wordlessly disappearing into the darkened morning.
“pretty,” you chirped, trying to break the tension of whatever that was.
johnny laughed in that way that surely crinkled his eyes, only to steer the conversation away by asking why you were up early. you remembered what you had to do and you dived to the kitchen in a flurry, chatting about the deadlines and due dates — so it was a school thing — and johnny just watched, silent, humming, eyes still curved in his glee.
you left no sooner than his… paramour did and, for a while, that was that.
but your semester is coming to a close and your schedule is changing, but so is johnny’s. he’s coming home later and later, but always seemed to offer apologies in the form of easy-to-microwave meals for your dinner. they’re still homemade, probably cooked up in the morning before he left for work, and you’d messaged him to say that he didn’t need to worry about you. that, sure, you came to him amidst financial struggle, juggling work and school, and trying to decide if you would have to starve this month because of rent, but you can cook. for yourself and for him too.
johnny’s face did a terrible thing when you mentioned that in person, the first in a while after things got hectic.
“what,” you bit out, embarrassed.
“nothing,” he said, blinking like he was realizing things he shouldn’t. “s’fun doing things f’r you.”
then he clamped up, spooning soup into his mouth, some of it messily dribbling into his chin. it’s not like you were doing any better, with how your throat closed up at his words, eyes going wide.
it’s been a thing, is what it is, but neither of you two have ever acknowledged that it’s a thing. it’s been a wordless experience — of johnny taking over things when it comes to the house because of course he will, it’s his home, but he always covers things for you too. things you’re sure normal landlords don’t really worry about, but not johnny.
there’s always extra food in the kitchen, extra blankets when the weather dips. there’s even a new cooling machine for the summer even though you know johnny’s room already has an installed air conditioning. he’s even changed the seats in the dining room because he caught you once hitting your hip after an all-nighter on a project.
then, he refurbished the den to make it your office.
“you didn’t have to,” you told him, mind racing at your savings, wondering if he was going to increase your rent.
johnny just shook his head with an almost fond roll of his eyes and clapped your back, arm hovering there. “s’all yers, hen.”
everything he did always accounted for you. so why the women?
they’re all long limbed and trimmed waist, with eyes that sparkled even when all you’ve seen of them is always within the poorly-lit hallway. they have voices that curl teasingly, breathy like they’re enticing johnny for one more night. and they’ve always, always, treated you like a—
like a kid.
a burden, almost, of johnny’s.
and, hell, maybe you are. johnny’s almost twice your age; he’s also already well-established in his career, some senior position that you can’t really follow but one he talks about with fondness. he’s got land rover-money, the car in his garage big and black and almost military grade, and it looks so expensive especially beside the crappy civic you were able to snag for a cheap price because it’s got about three-hundred-thousand mileage already.
you’ve got nothing to give him, other than the lousy rent payment that he doesn’t even really need but is just asking for courtesy because it’d be so weird for him to offer a room, or two now given you have the den too, for free. you’ve got nothing on your name, and if it isn’t pity that makes johnny care for you, then you don’t know what.
maybe his string of one-night stands are right — you are just a kid.
that maybe you really are still too wet behind the ears for the real world that you go running to the next person that could protect you from it, stumbling into his life and licking up every drop of his attention, mistaking his kindness for devotion. his care for love.
.
you should have known, then, that the thoughts would ripple, leaving you to feel like the days are unnavigable. obsession quickly took root, growing fangs, and it ensnared you; a vice noose at what had been a pleasant coexistence.
hell, you can barely stand being with johnny because of the jealousy. it’s a shameful thing, but a part of you thinks you deserve johnny more than the others do.
you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnny’s nightmares and the horrors that spill from his lips when it’s twelve in the morning and the two of you have hit the bourbon. you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnny’s aversion to the windows in the living room; that the reason why the curtains are a deep green is not to match the new plants he’s allowed you to fill up his home but because they shroud the panels more than the cream ones had. you tell yourself that nobody knows that johnny can sing; that he can cook a mean tomahawk; that he likes reading; that his wrists were hurting so he’s currently scheduled for a surgery; that he’s soft to you.
the women don’t know this johnny, you tell yourself, nails clawing at the hems of your chest. they don’t know him the way i do.
it’s a pathetic whisper. it’s so laughable. so juvenile.
they’re right. they’re right.
(you’re just a—)
“i don’t see you anymore,” johnny murmured one morning, when things have gone quiet again, a cup of coffee sitting on the counter while he watches you throw orange peels into the garburator.
he just got back from a work trip in aberdeen, his exhaustion loud on his face. his hair is overgrown, the bottom ends of his mohawk curling along his nape. he was there for over three weeks, skirting almost close to a month — the longest he’s ever been away — and you had tried so hard not to message. not to drop casual check-ins because you’re sure no tenant ever does that to their landlord, but johnny had remained just as friendly; asking things like if you wanted another potted plant, a monstera or a dragon tree, or if you still had that swiss chocolate he brought home as a gift, or—
the list of his questions grew, but you’ve given him clipped replies, not knowing how to act right anymore since your quiet realization. even the “thing” that you thought you shared with him had fizzled at the drop of the women coming-and-leaving, and you are left to pick up the pieces.
it’s not like you’re broken or ruined or angry. god, no you aren’t.
but you feel unsteady, like now that you know that you liked him more than he liked you, you forgot how to breathe. how to live without that looming burden because your affection is nothing but a burden.
what will johnny do if he finds out? you can’t afford a new place to move into, not when you’re so close to graduating, the finish line just about to graze your very fingertips with how near it is. money is still tight, and johnny has already spoiled you rotten. has shown you how it is to live a comfortable life. and if he learns of your feelings, you would lose this. more than anything, you would lose him.
so you detached yourself from the noose, curling into yourself and using his work trip as a way to move on.
jesus — move on, huh? like there was a ‘you and johnny’ to even move on from. like there was anything there to read. like there was anything there to pull away from; twitching fingers drawing back into the spaces of your ribs, tucking yourself away from his warmth.
“i’ve been so busy, john,” you muttered, just as tired.
“yeah?” he said, still light. still jovial. “let me cook something nice for ye, huh? reward yer hard work and all.”
“i can’t.” you swallowed down the prickle lodged in your throat, eyes ducking away to avoid seeing his. “i’ve got a meeting with the club.”
(you missed the way johnny’s smile dipped.)
“oh,” he said.
you shrugged, internally wincing at your weak attempt at being normal, before gathering your thermos and your messily-wrapped sandwich. johnny was still standing by the counters when you turned around from the sink, his bulk so close to yours in ages. it had been so long since you could just reach over and feel his warmth; feel the soft pudge of what once were hardened muscles.
he’s looking at you with such sad eyes that it’s jarring to truly see because he’s looking at you like—
like he’s losing you.
“i’m gonna…” you trailed off, not really knowing how to end this truly awkward interaction.
“yeah, f’course,” he croaked out. “take care of yerself huh, lass?”
“thanks.” the smile on your face felt more like a grimace. “see you.”
he said nothing more after that, his eyes still searching; still furrowed like something’s changed and something’s happening, and it made your stomach drop because please. please don’t let him notice.
but johnny just watched as you went, his coffee all forgotten.
(something bloomed in the soft press of your heart, flickering like a young ember. you’ve never realized how longing could feel like your mouth is stuffed with cotton.)
.
johnny hasn't picked up since his return from aberdeen.
they’re getting a new firm so the shuffling has been brutal, leaving johnny to clamber out at five in the morning before coming back home when it’s pushing 11pm. the scruff on his face is becoming more unkempt, salt and pepper becoming more intense, but even then, he’s never looked more ruggedly beautiful as he is now.
it’s like he’s aged years and you shouldn’t be reacting so strongly to the change, but looking at johnny now makes you ache in a different way — core throbbing, throat parched and eyes stinging as you watch him. you’re so drawn to his gravitational pull, unable to detangle yourself now that it feels like he’s more back in your life than he ever was.
and you know it’ll end up hurting you. that you’ll go back to isolating yourself at the drop of a new girl in the house, the smell of her chanel or bvlgari perfume filling up the crevices that you’ve dutifully dusted every saturday morning while johnny’s out for a run. he’s made having casual lovers a cycle, one that you cannot blame him for because johnny doesn’t like you back.
but johnny’s been so attentive to you these days. he’s been a hovering presence even when he looks like he’s one blown wind away from passing out in his exhaustion, his warm hand always on the small of your back as he walks you to the door before chirping a hearty, “kick ass, bon!”
he’s back to fixing up food for you, like that blip in your schedule got him all creative because now, it’s not even just dinner. you’ve got breakfast waiting for you in the microwave, and packed lunch already in your bag, carefully tucked beside the manila folders and plastic envelopes for your capstone. it’s like he’s making up for something which is dumb and wrong because now, you’re all swooping stomach and prickling lungs.
“yummy?” johnny asked, catching you wriggling in excitement at the flavour bursting into your tongue.
your cheeks tingled, feverish, before giving him a shy nod.
he huffed, something so achingly fond, and rested his chin atop his crossed arms. you didn’t know what to focus on — the scruff on his face or the hard lines of webbing veins spilling from beneath his folded sleeves. then, he crooned, “good. that’s good.”
you ran upstairs to your room, throwing an excuse about finishing up your paper, before locking the door, and feeding your cunt two fingers to satiate the burn. the stretch was delicious, raw and sweet, and you humped your wrist, trying to douse the flames burning you up.
you thought of johnny, of the way he looked and how much nicer he’s been; of johnny and the way he was so kind to you, so caring like you’re up in his priority list again, overtaking his busy schedule and the firm restructuring, and his needs.
your orgasm felt like a ripping of reality, your mind splintering at the edges as you’re stretched thin. it felt like you’ve been pulled taut, then released with a resounding snap. it felt euphoric, like the explosion of something intoxicating. something wickedly addicting.
you knew that this could never be unmade. your affections had grown their tendrils, curling past the quiet admiration and spiralling into something unforgiving. into something greater than yourself.
“fuck,” you had rasped out, eyes prickling with tears as shame rushed into your chest. “fuck.”
you didn’t need this. you didn’t need any of this.
but it becomes a cycle — wash, rinse, repeat.
johnny continues to go unshaven; continues to pour his attention to you. and you soak it up, needy and soft, unable to turn away with your tail tucked between your legs. you fall back to the ease of how it had been, hip bumping his, morning coffee shared in the silence, dinner a filling affair once more. all that’s changed are the lingering looks, the resonating touches.
how johnny’s wide hand falls to the small of your back more often; how his fingers just slots against yours every time he passes you your cup; how his eyes rove over your face, always searching for something you dare not hope for.
the last time he flicked his eyes down to watch the way your tongue lapped at your lips, swiping away at the extra cream, johnny’s pupils had constricted before a quiet groan rumbled from his throat. your thighs had quickly clenched close as heat exploded in the pit of your belly, spreading like wildfire through your veins. the pressure on your nub made you hiccup, like a whine dragging itself from your trachea, and johnny had snapped his eyes back to yours so quickly, it made you heady.
“bon–”
“i have to go,” you murmured, clamouring to shaky legs.
you fucked yourself to a deafening point once more, ears ringing as you squirted, the gush of your slick pushing past your fingers. you had to gnash your pillow cover to muffle the moan rumbling from the base of your throat, trying desperately to be good. to not be heard. to be better.
but johnny’s burning gaze on your lips was seared into your memory, blazing on top of everything, and you imagined—
god, you imagined.
the way he’ll take you — beard rough on your chin, thicker fingers spreading you wider, reaching deeper, before finally filling you up with all of him, bullying the whole length of his cock until he bottoms out.
you pressed on your stomach, dizzy, thinking about how johnny would hit that far. you know he would. the women he’s slept with have told you, anyway, in passing, describing how he was in bed with dreamy sighs like they weren’t still reeking of sex and johnny’s aftershave.
(you still wonder why so many of them were mean, their noses tipped up every time they saw you. they were the ones that johnny chose, the ones who were fortunate enough to have been his lover, so you wonder why they still sought you out like you were competition.)
“johnnyyyy!” you moaned, loud and long, your fingers prodding at your walls, and you knew that you’d regret the wrangled cry later, but you didn’t care then, too busy swimming in the aftermath of your orgasm.
.
but johnny heard it anyway.
he told you that he had heard you.
it happened so quickly — one moment you were bent over the espresso machine, fiddling with the levers with bleary-eyed attempts, then the next thing you knew was that johnny was crowding you, trapping you between the warm bulk of his body and the counter, his eyes furrowed so deeply which made the lines on his forehead run much deeper.
“whu’?” you asked, blinking tiredly at him.
johnny just did this shaky breath that rattled his whole body, like he was propped up by a couple of sticks instead of his whole mass. the mood shifted with that weak inhale though, and you turned to fully face him, ignoring the beeping machine because johnny was still looking at you with those eyes.
the ones that made you feel seen, read, and laid bare before him. like he could weave his eyes past the fabrics of your shirt to peek into the very jagged shards of your heart and see the cross that you’ve been carrying. like he knew things about you that he shouldn’t.
“johnny?” you prodded again, finding his silence alarming.
“yer too young for me, m’eudail,” johnny finally rumbled out, voice thick and deep.
and it’s—
what.
your mind was pressing into your skull, trying desperately to link your synapses together; for the fog to clear and for your coherence to rise above the pull of drowsiness, but johnny was faster. like now that he’s said the first words, the rest just follow, unstoppable in their force and in their meaning.
“i told myself i couldn’t,” he murmured, still breathing shakily; gaze still too fragile. “that yer lookin’ for nothin’ like me, and that yer just tryin’ to get out there with yer career.”
he lifted a hand, fingers twitching, before balling it back down to a fist.
“told myself i’ve gotta let go. found a way to cope and shit.”
johnny took another ragged breath in, and it startled you into gulping one of your own — you didn’t even realize that you’ve held your breath as he spoke to you, your chest clenching tightly as your mind began to link the passageways together, filling you in on what he wasn’t really saying.
“but carin’ f’you was so easy. christ, it was even delightful, hen.” he chuckled, something that was somewhat raw and pained.
you licked at your lips, blinking wide eyes open. johnny tracked the movement, his nose flaring like you’ve done something more than a subconscious thing, his shoulders going taut.
“i like doing all sorta things for you. liked seeing y’eat what i cooked; liked seeing y’use what i got f’you. liked watching y’come home to me. to me.”
a soft sound echoed between the two of you, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was a breathless whimper that petered out from the base of your throat. you didn’t even realize that you’ve curled into yourself, almost like you’re trying your best to shrink before johnny, and johnny crooned.
callused palm cupped the round of your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your eye. “told myself yer too young; that surely yer looking for someone closer to yer age, but bon, i heard y’last night.”
you startled in his hold, a quiet gasp piercing through the heat. johnny’s lips danced with mirth.
“s’right. heard a loud thump against the wall and ran upstairs, all worried, but guess my surprise, yes? y’were moanin’ my name so loudly, it’s like y’left yer door open.”
“johnny, i–”
“tell me,” he said, moving closer, his chest pressing against yours. “tell me t’stop, bon, an’ i will. but y’ve got to tell me. y’ve got to push me away.”
you looked at him, your eyes trembling at what he was laying out thickly, and your throat going parched at the blanketing desire rippling from him. there were so many things you wanted to ask, but his breath was tickling the bridge of your nose, dancing so close to the bow of your lips, and your heart ached.
desire coursed through you in waves, dribbling from the cup, and you lurched forward, chasing after his lips.
johnny melted into you. his hesitant touch turned greedier, more possessive, mapping your body and pulling you closer into him. his mouth devoured your own, gulping down the pleased little sighs and keens spilling from your lips. he kissed like a man starved, but you weren’t any softer; all nippy and desperate, fingers digging into his hair and fisting at the thin strands.
it was feverish, almost to a boiling point, and you needed more.
god, you needed more.
“johnny,” you mewled when he pulled away just enough to slide his damp lips along the cut of your jaw. “johnny, need you.”
“christ,” johnny sounded so wrecked, his voice rumbling deeply from where his lips were suckling on the soft curve of your neck. “i’ve been dreaming of this, mo luaidh. i knew i shouldn’t but yer so sweet to me and i– i wanted.” he said that word like it was dirty; like he’d been fighting tooth-and-nail to suppress it.
it made you tremble to hear how johnny desired you just as much. he had always felt unobtainable; always danced too far from your grasp and was always bigger than what you knew you could handle — his lovers had always looked divinely; pretty, yes, but fierce in their own right like they knew how to live without johnny; and you know they could, because they didn’t need johnny the way you do. they didn’t look at johnny like you do, like he hung the stars with those thick and aged hands of his.
but as you stood there, feeling every word punctured onto your skin, you couldn’t help but begin to cry, the tears springing from your eyes to slip down your cheeks. johnny rubbed your back, soothing and gentle.
“i wanted t’take you – make y’all mine,” he whispered.
you hiccuped, shaky from the weight of your hunger, and nuzzled close. your hands fell from fisting his hair so you could claw at the sharp corners of his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles there rippling, all taut when he bent forward and kissed you.
“please,” you began, feeling your mind thinning because you wanted more. more. more. more. “i can be– johnny, s’always been you. nobody else but you.”
you tugged him away, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. and god, johnny looked so devastatingly beautiful, his eyes all furrowed and his cheeks all flushed, and his lips spit-sheened.
“fuck me,” you whispered, tired of dancing around.
he groaned, something that sounded so pained, before he was tugging you with him, up the stairs and skirting past your room and into his.
you’ve never been in johnny’s room before, just as he had never been in yours since you moved in, and until now you still don’t know what you had been expecting upon walking in, but the smell of johnny wafting through was almost gut-punching. he smelled so close, like he was everywhere — surrounding you from the ground-up, dousing every pore with him until even your mouth felt full.
and johnny, he smelt like home.
there were no more words uttered as he stripped you off your pyjamas, sure fingers making their way down the buttons, unlatching them from the hemmed slits. you watched with heavy eyes, blinking slowly like everything had been wrung out of you, leaving you pliant and soft. johnny hummed, appreciative, and mapped kisses from your heaving chest, teeth nipping at the fat, before moving on, sprinkling every expanse of your skin with such reverence.
your hands were balled to your chest when he reached the jut of your belly, his chin hovering just above your crotch. johnny flicked up his darkened eyes at you, asking silently.
you gave him a nod, not trusting your own voice too.
johnny’s eyes had turned into slits, pleased, and hefted himself up just enough to be able to fit his hands on your hips and tugged your pants down. you shivered, the warmth in his room not enough to suppress the winter chill, and it made you buck into him. johnny comforted you with a quiet shh, rubbing his palm on the pudge of your thigh in soothing circles.
you don’t know why that touch was what did it for you, but soft sobs finally spilled from your mouth, scrunching up the desire into something undeniably frail. johnny didn’t startle though, like he knew that you had been wounding up to this tipping point, and instead continued to touch you tenderly, almost like if he could, he would cradle you close.
“i love you,” you said, sniffling, because that was the crux of your vulnerability, right?
you love him. god, you love him.
you’ve loved him since the day he sat you down for dinner and told you that you’ve got nothing to worry about, not anymore and not with him around. you’ve loved him since the day he flipped the den so you can have your own space for work; don’t mind the fact that he didn’t know if you were going to even stay, just that he insisted that you deserved that room either way. you’ve loved him since that swiss chocolate, since that cup of coffee, since he’s begun filling your painfully lonely days with his care.
you’ve loved him since and now—
“oh, mo graidh,” johnny breathed out. “i love you too.” he kissed your thigh, scruff ticklish. “gu siorraidh is gu brath.”
you wanted to ask what that meant but johnny was already moving, sitting back up to strip out of his own shirt. you trailed your eyes down his body, capturing your trembling lips between your teeth at how breathtaking he was — soft with fat but still heavy with muscles, fuzzy with hair with the smattering pooling just underneath his belly button before trailing down to where they were hidden underneath his pants.
you twitched before finally braving enough to reach out and brush your knuckle over the indents of his softened abs. johnny hummed, something that curled with appreciation, before covering your hand with his and holding it there.
“all of me s’yers, hen,” he said with such finality that you felt it settle deep within the marrows of your bones.
you nodded, emotionally spent and johnny lilted something else in scottish, so soft that it was almost a croon. you let him manhandle you — pushing your hips up so he could slot a pillow under for your back; you were so malleable to his touch as he took over, bending once again for a kiss while his fingers danced past the laces of your panties and into the damp heat of your pussy.
you moaned, eyelashes fluttering when he pressed one in, so careful and slow, but you were so wet that it slid in with no resistance, gobbling it up knuckle-deep. johnny had groaned like he could feel your rising euphoria, before nosing along your temple as he wiggled the finger around, stroking at your walls. you wondered if he was going to tease but then he was pulling it out, only to plunge two in the next thrust, curling and stretching, and oh—
oh, ssss’good.
you don’t even remember how long he’d been spearing you with his thicker fingers, rough and long and reaching far, far deeper than you could with your own, but you laid there, sobbing, feeling your slick slip out, pooling, making a mess of your thighs and his sheets. johnny had moved from suckling on your neck to taking a nipple in his mouth, teeth softly gnashing at the bud. you felt like you were on fire, burning from your core, aching for a release.
“cum f’me, m’eudail,” johnny groaned, breathless himself, his cock poking underneath his boxers, the fabric all wet from where his tip was, leaking pearled pre-. “let me see you.”
“johnny, i’m gonna– i’m–!” you squealed, legs jumping, squeezing johnny’s sides as you jolted, hips twitching at the bloating ecstasy. johnny just pushed down on your thigh, not letting up with the pace of his fingers. he was fucking you so hard that his hand’s slapping against your skin, his palm grinding down on your clit just right, and the pleasure sizzled into something biting. into something that was almost painful.
it was catastrophic, pulling you into two directions. johnny’s everywhere — his scent in your lungs, his fingers deep in your pussy, his mouth hot and wet on your tits, and like this, like this, you felt yourself breaking.
ripping—
then, your orgasm was punched out of you.
your senses had gone awry — throat throbbing as you cried out, your eyes going blind as they rolled into your skull at the final curl of johnny’s fingers. white noise filled your ears, and it was like you were submerged underneath water, wading through the crashing tides of your climax.
you came back to johnny peppering your face with soft kisses, whispering something you couldn’t decipher past the croon of your name and something like you did good and so beautiful. he’d already pulled his fingers out, and used both arms to cradle you close. you felt so empty — god, that wasn’t even his cock, yet — but your body thrummed pleasantly, almost like the itch was finally scratched.
“johnny?” you puffed out, voice all scratchy and weak.
“i’m here, bon. i’m here.”
you hummed, curling into his chest, head pillowed by his arm. you wanted to ask what about his own euphoria, but johnny seemed so content just laying there with you, not really desperate or needy, so you let it go, losing the battle against your drowsiness before finally slipping into a quiet sleep.
.
johnny’s there for your graduation, carrying a big bouquet of only eden roses. you didn’t even know that those particular ones were expensive until someone from the graduation party oohed and aahed to their friend.
your cheeks burned when their friend chirped, “well someone’s clearly loved.”
you know that what they said would have had johnny agreeing loudly if he was allowed in the lineup because he is never one to be shy about what he feels; or not anymore, anyway. he loves so fully and openly that you still wonder why it took the two of you so long to get together, but the days since then had just been kind and filling that you have long forgotten how it was to not be with him.
they’re going to call your name soon, and your stomach swoops, excitement and anxiety mixing in a dizzying tandem.
you’re graduating with a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a diploma in early childhood education, and this is not where you thought you would be when you first started university, but it’s the happiest you have ever been. and sure much of your poli-sci courses were scrapped when you changed majors, and that’s also a lot of money wasted, but you have three job opportunities lined up already and it’s like the seismic shift in your life had finally corrected itself.
(your mom said she’s sorry that she and your pa couldn’t come, but you’ve stopped longing for their acceptance and told her it was fine.
there’s a date saved in your calendar, though, for a brunch with her and that was enough.)
you ducked into johnny’s arms when the graduation ceremony ended, careful of the bouquet he’s holding.
“congratulations, bonnie,” he says, a hearty laugh rumbling from his chest. “christ, i’m so, so proud of you.”
you never pegged yourself for a crybaby, but tears begin to pool in the corners of your eyes at the weight of his words.
“thank you,” you reply, soft and raw, and honest.
johnny pulls you in, his lips warm as they’re pressed on your forehead.
and this, just like this, you know things will only get better from here on out.
#suns#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#soap x reader#cod x reader#f!reader#read tags!!
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A Ballad of Lost Souls
Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader
Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say
Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome
WC: 5.7K I’m sorry
Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer
A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.
You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here.
You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.
Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in.
You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful.
Eric remembered that.
The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.
Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.
The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.
You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name.
Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares.
Shit, were you supposed to say something?
You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face.
Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.
~~~
You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it.
He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.
“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.
“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.”
You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.
“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets.
“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.
Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder.
“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.
“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”
You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head.
“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.
“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.
He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”
You smiled.
~~~~~~
“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.
You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.
“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room.
“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.
“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.
“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.
“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.
“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.
“Yeah, so?”
You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.
“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.
Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.
“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.
He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes.
Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.
“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”
“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”
“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.
“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.
“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.
“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.
Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better.
You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.
His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his.
“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.”
He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.
You could not wait to see him again.
~~~~~~
“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.
You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.
“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you.
“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.
Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours.
You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit.
“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot.
Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.
“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face.
With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.
“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm.
“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left.
“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”
He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.
“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.
“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”
You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.
~~~~~
The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.
“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.
“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.
“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass.
“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.
“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.
“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.
“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”
You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck.
“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”
“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.
“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”
“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.”
His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.
“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.
“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days.
Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs.
“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.
His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big.
“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.
“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.
“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.
“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”
You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.
“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”
You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.
“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.”
You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul.
“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”
“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.”
Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak.
“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.
“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down.
Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself.
Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.
“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.
“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.”
You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.
“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”
“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”
“Yeah, forever.”
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Azriel x reader
Word count: +3400
Warnings: none (?)
Summary: When love becomes a painful burden and you can't stand it anymore, you decide to turn it into hate, avoiding its source at any cost. However, Azriel has enough and seeks you out.
When I wrote it in my head (late at night of course), it was perfect. But I forgot the exact wording😮💨 Now I'm not so sure about this. Also I bit changed the intended end to cut down the word count
Anyway, I hope you will enjoy it
Despite my resolve to not to look in that direction, my eyes darted to the dance floor again and again, pulled by power stronger than my will. Pain sharp like dagger carved deep into my heart as I watched Azriel dancing with some female whom he just met at bar. Their bodies seemed to be glued together as their hips swayed in the rhythm of the music, even their foreheads were touching. Female's arms wrapped around his strong shoulders and neck, sliding down and back up his biceps and chest only to once again return back to their start point, holding him close. Pulling him closer. He didn't seem to mind it though as his own hands travelled all over her body, squeezing soft flesh wrapped in tight mini-dress at times.
I felt bile rising in my throat and turned back to my drink, wishing it was something stronger than just mojito—something that would burn not only my throat, but also my heart with all the traitorous feelings. I wished I had never made that mistake and fallen in love with him. Things would be much easier.
We used to be friends, really close friends. However, ever since I realized I felt something more for him, my feelings kept deepening with every passing day to the point it physically hurt to even look at him. He didn't seem to feel the same way though, not noticing anything, and I was too scared of refusal and never confessed. After just few months I was so agonized that I couldn't even step out of my room without bursting into tears and that's when I decided to rather hate him than to suffer like that.
I started ignoring him, avoiding him at any cost, twisting everything into anger. I went so far as not even answering him when he directly spoke to me. It still hurt, but it was more manageable kind of pain than what I felt before. This was how I had lived for the last two years, working hard to build the wall of the hatred around my heart brick after brick, yet I had a long journey ahead of me.
I threw the straw on the table and knocked back half of my drink, trying to think about anything except of what was happening to my left. I was so focused that I noticed Cassian only when he tapped his glass to mine.
"What are we drinking to?"
"To fucked up life."
Cassian's guttural laughter was so loud that it even overbeat the pulsing bass of the music.
"To fucked up life then," he toasted and got his drink down in one gulp. He was in his element, beaming with excitement.
Rita's was full of all kinds of faeries as usual, the dance floor pulsed with life, bodies swaying, alcohol flowing. After the warm-up drinks, our group fell apart — some were at bar, some were dancing and some disappeared to who-knows-where. Cassian was the first one to mingle between the dancers. It was almost midnight, yet this was the very first time he stopped for a while. Well, stopped.. His body was somehow managing to keep moving along the music even while he was sitting.
He reached over the table, caressing my cheek, his expression softened. "You need to learn how to let go, doll."
"It's easier said than done," I sighed and straightened up to get away from his reach. I used to be quite touch starved person, enjoying every contact with persons dear to me, but lately I could hardly stand anyone in my close proximity.
His eyes narrowed at me for a second, but he said nothing and drumming fingers on the table turned to the dance floor. He bit on his bottom lip. Devilish smile spread on his face and he turned back to me.
"Then I'll help you."
"Help me with what exactly?" I frowned, already having bad feeling.
"To let go. Come!" He raised a brow, jerking his head toward that maze of bodies. "Come," he repeated, offering me his big hand when I didn't react.
Out of the corner of my eye, I gazed at the full dance floor. "No, never," I grimaced. "I'd rather die than to do that."
"Come! I promise you will have fun."
"I can't dance." All my friends knew that, including Cassian. I wasn't willing to dance even where nobody could see. That kind of activity simply wasn't up to my liking nor ability.
"I'll teach you."
"No."
"I'm not accepting no as an answer this time," he grinned, rounded the table and gripped both of my hands, pulling me with him. He was too strong. I followed him involuntarily, squeezing in between dancing bodies. He took me to the back where weren't so many faeries and we didn't have to jostle with others. Only then he let go of my hands. I immediately crossed them on my chest, feeling awkward.
"Relax," he pulled me closer, his hands on the small of my back. I pulled my lips into thin line, frowning. I didn't like this at all. "Just feel. Let the music lead you."
"The music leads me back to the table," I grunted to which he laughed.
"Just bit move that ass of yours. Like this." He gripped my hips, pulling on and pushing them to demonstrate the movement he wanted me to do.
"Geez, you are so stiff," he was laughing his ass off. The small amount of alcohol I drank finally kicked in. There was nothing funny on this, yet I couldn't help myself and giggled.
"That's it," he praised me when I did as he instructed. "Just like that."
When I got used to the motion, he let go of my hips and took a step back to have a better view. "And now add legs." He demonstrated several simple moves and I tried to mirror them. I felt like idiot.
"You are doing great. Don't stop." He again stepped closer and took me by waist. We danced together for a while, Cassian's mouth never closing — showering me with praise, stupid jokes and stories — and I really had fun just as he'd promised.
"That hardly can be called dance. Let me show you how to do it," a deep voice spoke somewhere behind me and shiver ran down my spine. My heart flipped at that sound and smile froze on my face. I knew that voice too well.
"As if you could dance any better," Cassian snorted, but he started retreating. I desperately grabbed fabric of sleeves on his forearms, wordlessly pleading with him to stay.
"Just have fun, doll," he shrugged and turned away, immediately finding another dance partner. I stared after him in disbelief, my back still to the newcomer. I felt him move, slowly circling me and I swallowed hard. I turned to the opposite side, determined to head back to our table, suddenly too thirsty.
Scarred hand grabbed my elbow, yanking me back and I was met with his broad chest. I didn't dare to look up.
"Not so fast, Y/N," Azriel mumbled and I wondered how it was possible that I heard him so clearly over the loud music.
"I don't dance," I retorted, pulling away. I didn't get far though, his strong arms keeping me at the place.
"I just saw you with Cassian. Just one dance. I'm not asking for too much."
No matter how desperately I searched for good reason to decline, any reason honestly, I found none. "Fine," I grunted at last.
For a while we danced and I moved as Cassian showed me, but I felt so uncomfortable.
"Try it like this," Azriel said, his hands moving to my hips.
"Don't touch me," I barked at him, my mind flooded with imagines of him touching that female not so long ago. "I don't even want to think about where your hands were before."
His body stiffened as if I slapped him and he fell out of rhythm. "I can assure you that I washed my hands properly."
He sounded hurt and I felt pang of pain in my chest. I realized the ambiguity of my own words. And because this was Azriel, he probably thought I meant his work which was quite sensitive topic for him. He didn't torture people because he enjoyed it, but because he had to—to protect this court, to protect his family.
Ignore it! I ordered myself, clenching teeth.
It took him a moment to recover. Just as we began dancing again, he keeping hands at his sides, the song ended, immediately followed by much slower one. A lot of faeries around left the dance floor. I took it as my call and followed the suit.
"Wait!" Azriel grabbed both of my hands. "We haven't even danced yet."
"But-," I stuttered.
"One song. Please."
It was that damn word please. He hardly ever used that word. He was always polite and perfect gentleman and everything, but it seemed he didn't have this word in his vocabulary. I could count on fingers of one hand how many times I heard him to say it in almost two centuries we knew each other.
"Just one song then."
"Yeah, just one," he agreed. His hands reached for my waist. "Can I?"
I just nodded, still feeling bad for unintentionally hurting him like that. He hesitated.
"You should put your hands here," he guided them to his shoulders, but I immediately let them fall to his biceps. I didn't want to hold on to him like that bitch. I inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden strong wave of jealousy.
Hate. You aren't jealous. You hate him, I had to remind myself.
"That's also fine," he sighed, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts. "Now you need to come a bit closer."
He gently pulled me to him. I made sure there was a wall of air between us, already sensing where he was heading. Unfortunately, I was so occupied by keeping him as far from me as possible that I didn't notice drunken faerie passing by. She dangerously swayed, unstable on her own feet, and shoved me from behind. Clumsy idiot as I was, I lost balance and once again ended up pressed to Azriel's chest. He was fast, his arms immediately wrapped around me, not letting me step away. Now our bodies were touching.. everywhere — hard parts pressing into soft ones.
I felt heat climbing up my neck, my ears already burning.
"Dance partners usually look each other in the eye," he muttered, amused. He had some guts to tease me.
My head snapped up in rush of disbelief and rage, my eyes met with honeyed hazel ones. Those warm orbs completely captivated me, imprisoned me in their depths and I couldn't look away anymore. All my thoughts vanished at once.
It was long since I properly looked at him, let alone so close up. He hadn't changed much. If anything, he was even more handsome than before.
Idiot! Stop thinking such shit! He isn't handsome. He's disgusting. Not so long ago he was touching some random female and now he's here, touching you with the same hands. He's promiscuous pig. Absolutely repulsive.
My chest heaved as I was fighting with myself, heart against mind. My heart pounded so hard it had an echo.
Wait! What a nonsense! Heart can't have echo, can it?
Just then I realized it wasn't some echo but a beat of another heart. It was Azriel's heart that hammered just as fast as mine and so strongly that I felt it through our connected bodies. And if I felt his, then he had to feel mine as well. At that thought panic started to creep up on me.
Azriel leaned down, so slowly. His warm breath fanned my face, our noses touching.
The song ended replaced by another and dance floor filled again. Azriel seemed to be too occupied and didn't even notice it, but I did. I shoved him away with all my strength.
He didn't expect it and wavered, his grip on me loosened. I jerked from his arms, recoiling. He reached for me.
"Y/N, wait.. Just one more-"
"No more dancing," I said, my voice so cold that I startled even myself. "You wanted one song and you got one. I'm done here."
I didn't wait for his reaction and showed him my back. I marched over to our table, emptied my glass in one go and even one shot that was left there. The alcohol burnt its way down my throat and I grimaced. I grabbed my things and without looking back or leaving a message to others, I left.
I stomped down the snowy road, hardly noticing the slippery ice under soles of my boots. Only once I got all the way down to the Sidra, I paused on one of the bridges, letting out an angry sigh. I drew the thick cloak closer, feeling the chill of winter night, and looked up at sky full of stars, my warm breath creating quickly disappearing puffs of steam. I was on verge of tears, angry, hurt and confused. What was that even about?
"Y/N, are you all right?"
Not again. I wanted to flee away, but his big hand blocked my way.
"Stop already running away from me!"
"Leave me alone!"
In the attempt to get away, I lost my footing on slippery stones. I would fall down into deadly cold waters if it wasn't for his strong arms that kept me upright.
"Please." There was that word again, this time even more desperate than the one before. "I can't do this anymore. Please, tell me what I've done that it made you this mad. I will apologise as many times as you wish. I'm willing to do anything to gain your forgiveness."
"I thought that when I leave you be, your anger will ease and you will eventually tell me what happened, but it's already so long and it's getting worse and worse," he continued when I just stood there, gazing down into dark waters of Sidra.
How was I supposed to tell him that he did nothing? That I was just stupidly in love with him and that I couldn't deal with my own feelings anymore? I couldn't possibly tell him that. So I was silent while cold tears rolled down my cheeks.
"I'm so desperate that I even tried to provoke you to no avail. I don't know what else to do to mend our relationship back to what it used to be. And I miss you.. so much. So please, tell me what happened, so I never again repeat the same mistakes."
He stepped closer, hugging me from behind. "Please." When he breathed out near my ear, shiver ran down my spine and my eyes closed. All strength, all fight left me and my shoulders slumped down. Azriel gently turned me around, so now I faced him. His warm hands cupped my wet and cold cheeks, his thumbs wiping tears away.
"Speak to me otherwise I-.." His voice was low, dangerously low.
"You what?" I whispered the words into silent night, needing to hear the answer.
"I.." Suddenly his face was so close that it was the only thing I saw, his breath hot on my face. My head, heart, lungs, whole my body shut down. I was just standing there, gaping, hypnotized by his sad eyes.
He waited until I inhaled and then his lips sealed over mine, his eyes holding my gaze. The kiss was slow, careful, hesitant.
I was stunned, my eyes the size of full moon above us. As the new sensation settled in, a firework boomed in my chest and I.. moaned.
He made a sound back in his throat that vibrated through whole his chest. Shutting his eyes closed, he unleashed, deepening the kiss. His lips, hard like stone and so soft at the same time, hungrily danced over mine, his tongue gently pushed into my mouth, looting and exploring.
Azriel tasted like an old whiskey Rhys poured me once from his precious collection. The rich spiced and woody taste was mixed with something sweet and delicious and I moaned again as I realised I tasted strawberries on his lips. My knees buckled and I clasped hands around his neck, my fingers tangling with strands of silky dark hair. He swallowed my moan and holding me upright, he pulled me even closer — as if it was possible — his fingers digging into my flesh.
His enormous wings wrapped around me, cutting off the rest of the world, wall of shadows protecting us from any prying eyes.
We kissed and kissed until my lungs began to burn with need for air. Yet I held on as long as I could, wanting this moment to last forever and only when I felt like I was going to faint, I slightly pushed against his shoulders. Reluctantly, his mouth released mine, but stayed close enough that I felt its every move. Both of us staggered weakly and he chuckled.
"Gods," he muttered under the breath, heaving heavily. "You taste better than I've imagined. I wanted to do this for so long."
I was still too dazed to think straight. I just knew that I was happy, my heart hammering into the ribcage so wildly as if it was trying to break through it. His lips travelled all over my face, leaving dozens of small pecks behind. As he calmed down, he hid his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, still holding me in an iron grip.
"Why are you angry with me?" His voice was muffled by fur of my cloak. Under my cheek pressed to his shoulder, I felt his pulse, strong and fast, just like mine. I inhaled his rich scent of early morning mist in the snowy mountains.
"I'm not angry, not really." My face burned with shame. I sounded pathetic even to myself, somehow defeated. My traitorous heart wanted to believe that this was real and that it would last, while my mind was screaming that it was only a short-lived dream.
He was silent for a while, most likely putting together pieces of a puzzle. Maybe it was my salvation that he was a spymaster with a brilliant mind. I didn't have to sink to the very bottom to voice aloud just how lame and stupid I was, saving me from the most shameful moments.
"Never - do you hear me? Never do that again. There's no need for such..." I thought it impossible yet his grip grew even firmer. He sighed heavily, pushing words through clenched teeth. "-ve you."
He muttered something, but I heard only the last part of it. What did he say? No matter what I filled in, nothing made a sense.
"What?" I whimpered, hardly holding my tears back.
Azriel inhaled deeply. "-ve you."
"I.. don't understand."
He straightened up, looking into my eyes, his face deep shade of crimson.
"I said, I love you." His voice was firm, but his wings around us trembled slightly, giving out just how nervous he was.
My eyes widened in disbelief. I certainly misheard. "Eh?"
"As you heard," he looked away shyly, his hands slowly falling down, releasing me. "I started to feel it shortly after we met, but it took me too long to recognize the feeling for what it is. I was full of myself, I should have noticed your pain much sooner. I'm so sorry, Y/N."
His words tore down the dam and the tears began freely flowing down my cheeks in streams. Years of the pain and suffering for nothing.
"You are really the worst. I hate you," I sobbed.
Azriel stiffened and then chuckled when I leaned in, hiding face on his chest. "Am I? You owe me chocolate for at least last two years. And that is not all. I believe you owe me one more thing."
"What do you mean?"
He licked his lips and biting on the bottom one, he slowly pulled me into another embrace. "When someone-.. No. When I confessed to you, you were supposed to answer something like 'I love you, too', don't you think?"
I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his waist and still sobbing retorted, "as if I could say such thing so easily."
His smile only grew. "Then I have to coax it out of you," he cooed and captured my lips in another sweet kiss and another and he kept kissing me until my heart healed, mending all the wounds of the past years.
#acotar#azriel#sarah j maas#acotar fanfiction#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#az x reader#azriel angst#azriel fluff#azriel x reader#azriel x you#acosf#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader#acotar x you#azriel x female#azriel x y/n
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They get into the car and Buck immediately takes off his tie and tosses it to the back seat. He’s never been much of a suit guy. But it was a funeral, he had to dress up. And make Tommy dress up too. Same as him, Tommy is also not a suit guy. It’s hard to get those beefy arms into a tailored jacket.
Tommy starts the engine and turns to Buck with the most affectionate glint in his eyes. He stares at him for a few moments, just taking in his view. “What?” Buck asks, smirking. “Something on my face?”
Tommy rolls his eyes and starts driving. “You’re cute is all.”
“I am?” His cheeks flush and he ducks his head the way he always does when Tommy compliments him. “Even covered in boils?”
“Of course.” It’s their thing – ‘Of course.’ Before every shift, one texts ‘Be safe’ and the other responds ‘Of course.’ Buck wants to get it tattooed on himself. It’s way too early for permanent commitments, but he can’t shake the idea. “You’re always cute, Baby.”
“This mean you’re going to kiss me now?” He says pursing his lips, even though Tommy’s eyes are on the road.
“Don’t continue this slander, Evan.” He replies, deadpan as ever. The dry charm is so hot, damn. “I did a hell of a lot more than kiss you this morning.” True. Actually, now that Buck is thinking about it – a rim job is just one long, pleasurable kiss.
“On the face, Kinard.” Buck can deal with the itchiness and sore arm. What he can’t handle is going over twenty-four hours without feeling Tommy’s lips on his own. “Don’t you miss kissing my birthmark every other minute?”
Tommy looks over just in time to see Buck pout and shine his best ‘puppy dog’ eyes at him. He laughs and looks back at the road. “Brat.” He knows exactly how to push his boyfriend’s buttons. “I’ll make up all the missed kisses… once you’re better.”
“And not gross?” Yeah okay, so maybe he is a bit of a brat.
“Did I not call you cute five minutes ago?”
Buck crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Not cute enough to kiss apparently.”
***
They eventually get stuck in Traffic. Buck switches from his dress shoes to sneakers, not being able to handle another moment of uncomfortable torture. “Better?” How Tommy is driving with his on, Buck has no idea.
“Much.” There’s a bit of comfortable silence between them, just NPR playing too soft to make out in the background. “I-I want to thank you, babe.” Buck admits shyly, patting Tommy’s (thick) thigh. “For doing this. I know you think I’m dumb for believing in all this curse crap.” He bites the inside of his cheek, feeling a bit small. “I appreciate you going along with it anyway… driving me out to fucking Temecula of all places and indulging my – uh – my weirdness.”
Tommy’s lips flatten and he tsks, shaking his head. “First of all, baby. I don’t think you’re dumb. And you shouldn’t think that either.” He quickly looks over to Buck, making sure he’s taking his words in. And with the way he looks at him, how could Buck not? “This curse means something to you, so of course I was going to help.” Buck feels his chest tighten. This man. “Even spoke to Billy for you.”
“Yeah?” His eyes light up. “What did you say?”
“That’s between me and the dead man.” He places his hand on top of Buck’s on his leg. “He knows not to mess with my boy.”
His cheeks flush and he squirms a little in his seat as a burst of heat travels through him. “Yeah, Daddy – you gonna fight a ghost for me?”
“I’ll fight a thousand ghosts for you, Evan.” Something about the way he says it, in his usual stoic tone, but laced with so much admiration – makes Buck honestly believe him. Not that he’ll literally fight a ghost - although with this Billy situation, who’s to say that couldn’t happen? – but that Tommy will fight for him, for them. He will go to bat for him; time and time again showing up whether Buck needs him or not. He’s all in.
Is this what it feels like to find the one? Buck’s not sure. It didn’t feel like this with Abby or Taylor. He loved them – in different ways. But nothing close to this. Buck can’t imagine a life where Tommy isn’t beside him, indulging him in his antics and looking at him like he’s the sun, moon, and all the stars in between. It’s too early to say it, he knows it is. But, fuck, he really is in love. “Tommy –“ He says, his boyfriend quickly glancing from the road to him. “You matter so much to me.”
“You matter to me too, baby.” Tommy smiles, his eyes crinkling beautifully and so kissable. Maybe they can just pull over for a quickie? “Evan, know this. I will happily put on a suit and drive to Temecula whenever you ask. As long you keep being you.”
Sounds a hell of a lot like Tommy wants to say ‘I love you’ too. Just not now. Not while he’s covered in boils and driving. Because the second he says it, he has to know Buck will say it back and then drown him in kisses. The moment will come soon enough.
***
Buck eventually falls asleep against the window. With all the traffic, it takes them an hour longer than it should have to get back to LA. Tommy shakes him a little to wake him up, leaving a line of drool on the glass. He blinks a few times at the setting sun shining in his eyes, not recognizing the building they’re outside of. Tommy comes around the truck to open Buck’s door for him. Such a gentleman. “Where are we?”
He sighs affectionately. “A dermatologist, Evan.”
#bucktommy#bucktommy coda#bucktommy Drabble#coda#911#911 spoilers#911 8x05#Tevan#Tevan Drabble#Tevan coda#my writing
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fear of god
prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 2 masterlist
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How am I hearing you?
That should be the first question out of your mouth, but instead what comes out is a meek trembling of words. “E-excuse me?”
His smile doesn’t waver. “Asked if you could let me in, love. I’m a bit turned around.”
You pause for a moment to take stock of the situation. A programming that has served your species since the dawn of time quietly whispers something to you, its voice unintelligible but meaningful. The instinct to help kicks in with the man’s plea, but your own confusion stays its corresponding response.
There’s a man outside the ship knocking on the window and you’ve never seen his face before.
“Where did you—where did you even come from?” you ask.
He waves a hand and it drifts slowly beside his helmet, encumbered by the lack of gravity. “Around. Lost contact with my crew and I’ve been trying to get some help ever since.”
His tone is too blasé for the situation. You’d expect fear or urgency, but he speaks as though reassuring you.
“Was there another ship nearby?” You don’t remember Graves mentioning any other ships in this sector of the solar system. With many funded by private corporations or individuals, the team might not be always privy to all ongoing missions, but the commander would have known if there was a ship within a lunar distance.
“At some point,” he says, still smiling. Too friendly.
It’s been months since you spoke to a man your age that you hadn’t seen drink their own piss via the ship’s recycled water filtration system. Not to shame anyone—you’re part of that statistic too—but you’ve realized in the past few weeks how far that knowledge has gone towards dampening any burgeoning attraction to anyone.
But it occurs to you again—a thought burrowing into the recesses of your mind, like a phantom of itself, a loon call over a still lake—that you are hearing someone from outside the ship. Sound traveling through nothing; the very absence of sound.
The thought is too big for your head, but it fits itself in anyway. It stretches uncomfortably because material reality usually wins in the end. What you can see and hear, you can trust. You know the world through what appears in front of you; that's always how it's been.
This time though, there's something you can't quite fit in your head.
“Wait, let me…let me get some help,” you tell him, taking a step away from the window. Your stomach clenches when he frowns, brows pulled together in concern.
“You sure, love? I can walk you through opening the doors if you need help. Same as my ship, I bet.” He chuckles nervously. “Been out here awhile now; not sure how much oxygen I’ve got left in the tank, if I’m honest.”
That almost gets you, but you remember protocol. For all your shortcomings, you’ve never not followed protocol. Opening the airlock and letting anyone in or out is a process strictly monitored by the commander, and you have no authority to grant anyone access without express permission. You know the access codes, of course, for security and safety reasons, but despite the sudden urgency in his voice, you haven’t been authorized to let him in.
And then there’s the matter of—
Again, though his frame fills up most of the porthole, when you look out into the depths of space around him, you see nothing out there. You wonder if perhaps Graves purposefully omitted any mention of receiving a distress call from a ship with a lost crew member.
It feels less than likely.
“I’ll be back.” You take another step back, heart fluttering in your chest. “Just…wait. I’ll—”
The rest of your sentence never comes, tucked beneath your tongue. Your feet are already taking you away.
The metal floor clangs under your feet as you stumble away and down the hall towards the cargo hold. You can hear the man yell after you, his voice growing more and more distant the farther you run, until its echo lingers only in your head.
Down the stairs and through the main corridor, you pass the medbay on your way to the cargo hold, the room at the far end of the spacecraft accessible only by descending below the orlop deck. You come galloping down the stairs so fast that you nearly trip over the last one.
The doors to the hold slide open at your approach. Though the cargo hold on the ship isn’t as gargantuan as some you’ve seen before, it’s still big enough for your footsteps to echo across the room when you make your way inside. Crates holding the ship’s sampling gear and equipment are tied down to the floor by fiber-reinforced polymer straps and covered by heavy-duty nets. The smell of fuel and ozone is pungent, thick in the air.
The temperature in the hold is a degree or two hotter than the rest of the ship, putting you instantly on edge. Irritable; uncomfortable. Heat clings to the grooves of your skin, sinking past the epidermis. You tug your collar out with a finger.
“Hello?” you call out into the hold, voice reverberating off the walls.
No one responds. Perhaps Farah did come for her brother, as she mentioned earlier. It wouldn’t do for you to linger in the empty hold then, the man outside the ship still a pressing concern.
The ceiling is banded by metal beams, ferrous pipes running up the walls to the rafters, gurgling and whistling as water passes through. You can see the shoddy workmanship in the exposed scaffolding, areas that should’ve long ago been covered up or hidden away behind walls. A pipe in a far corner overhead drips onto the concrete below.
“Looking for someone?” a voice asks from directly behind you, and your heart jumps into your throat at the sudden sound.
When you whirl around, Hadir stands in the middle of the cargo hold, shoulders slouched and hands stuffed in his pockets. He lifts an eyebrow at the look on your face. Though he shares some features in common with his sister, his build is entirely different; stockier, slightly softer. Round jaw to her sharp. The same widow’s peak though, and the same nose.
“Yeah, hi—morning, by the way.” You gesture with your thumb towards the door. “I, just…this is going to sound wild, but I think I just…I think someone’s outside the ship.”
The easy look falls off his face in favor of a more serious expression.
“Outside the ship?” he repeats in disbelief.
“Yes, I know, but I swear. Can you just—” Frustration makes you curt. Partial embarrassment too because you know how it sounds.
There shouldn’t be anyone outside the ship because you’re in the middle of nowhere with no other spaceships around for hundreds of thousands of miles. There shouldn’t be anything other than carbonaceous and silicate asteroids drifting outside the ship. Rubble as small as grains of sand.
He frowns. “Did someone get locked out of the ship? Why didn’t you go get Graves?”
“It’s not—” Again, you can’t seem to find the words, the right one getting lost in translation. “It’s not someone from the crew.”
Something shifts across his face, a micro-expression that makes your throat tighten involuntarily, but he nods and follows you out of the hold.
Nerves plague you on the walk back to the porthole. Since you lead the way, you can’t look back and gauge Hadir’s expression, but you can feel his eyes heavy on your back. Skepticism still thick in the air, so rich you can almost taste it. You can hardly blame him. Were it anyone else, you’d think them delusional too.
The walk back feels twice as long somehow. At the top of the staircase, you breathe quietly out of your mouth in order to catch your breath without letting on how winded you are. Hadir’s footsteps echo yours, a beat off the entire walk back to the corridor you left just a few minutes ago.
When the porthole finally comes into view, you freeze, causing him to nearly walk right into you. Any apology for the sudden halt doesn't get off the back of your tongue.
A dark, empty nothingness perforated by light in the far off reaches of space. Your throat goes dry at the sight.
“There was someone outside,” you say. It comes out whispery thin.
You almost don’t need him to walk up to the glass and look out, knowing already what he’ll see. It’s immediately evident, the porthole free of anyone or anything obscuring the hazy band of stars off in the distance.
There’s no way to see Hadir’s expression as anything other than concerned. He peers out of the porthole again, twisting his head to the right and left in order to see as far as the view extends.
“I, uh…I don’t see anything out there,” he finally admits, a tad awkwardly. He has a hard time meeting your eyes.
“Oh,” you reply, nonplussed.
You step up to the window alongside him. Stars leak out of the blackness of space; eternal night. It’s a long way from anywhere out here.
“He might’ve gone to another window.”
For a beat, Hadir doesn’t respond. You’re both thinking the same thing. It’s unlikely that if anyone were out stranded in the middle of space that they’d float aimlessly around their only means of salvation rather than just wait for help.
“Maybe you just saw your own reflection,” Hadir suggests. "It happens. Freaks me out too sometimes."
The tone of voice he uses irks you; it’s vaguely placating, like he’s trying to reassure you as well as himself.
There’s nothing wrong with you though. You saw what you saw and heard what you heard. There was a man outside the porthole hovering in space and he spoke to you.
“Yeah, maybe,” you say instead.
You stare at the faint, runny outline of your own face in the window. No matter how hard you stare, you can’t imagine her suddenly opening her mouth and talking to you.
When the two of you finally part ways, you head for the medbay on autopilot. The mug that was in your hand is long gone—probably accidentally put down when you went looking for Hadir in the cargo hold—and you regret not stopping by the galley for a refill.
It bothers you that Hadir went the other way, towards the cockpit instead of back to the cargo hold. You wonder whether someone called him up before you found him.
The medical unit on this ship is smaller than what you’re used to for interplanetary travel. They’ve supplied you with the equipment necessary for simple surgeries and nothing more; anything more complex is left to chance and divine intervention. The operating table in the center of the room comes equipped with a scanner capable of medical imaging and diagnosing.
It’s an incredibly insular room on top of that, having been designed without windows. Not atypical for a medical bay. Though bigger than your personal quarters, you often find yourself on edge when spending any prolonged amount of time in your work station.
For all of its flaws, the ship is equipped with a rudimentary form of artificial intelligence. It mainly assists with performing diagnostics, assisting with determining the best trajectory for the spacecraft, and enabling autonomous navigation, the latter function being temporarily suspended after the impact from the day before, but it has some use. You’re especially lucky that every computer on board gives you access to the AI, meaning that you can stay cooped up in the medical unit rather than venturing back to the cockpit where your inquiry might wind up drawing more attention to you than you’d like.
You lean forward in your chair, a leg tucked into your chest as you flip a switch on the dashboard on the wall behind the computer and then a button on the keyword, the familiar blip letting you know to speak.
“Ship, please scan the perimeter for any nearby foreign objects.”
Chewing your nails and staring at the computer, you watch it light up, words and symbols flashing across the screen, buttons flicking on and off on the dashboard behind it. The ship rumbles around you as it scans the surrounding vacuum of space for anything with mass. The foot still touching the ground taps, a restless twitch running through your leg.
The blip of completion makes you jolt in your chair.
No anomalous objects detected around ship's exterior
You press the button again. “That’s—that’s not possible, Ship. I saw someone out the window.”
When you let go of the button again, the computer goes quiet, running through another round of calculations, performing the same diagnostic again. Another distended moment of anticipation. You hold your breath until the computer beeps, the perimeter inspection complete.
Scan complete
No anomalous objects detected around ship's exterior
The secondary confirmation makes your stomach sink.
It’s difficult to articulate the feeling in your chest. Halfway between disbelief and unease. Perhaps a simple error in judgment, but you can’t simply look past the voice you heard from the astronaut outside the porthole. In your life, you’ve made plenty of mistakes and bad calls; you’ve run the gamut of mistakes, everything from going back to old flings to nearly misdiagnosing a patient.
You have never seen things that weren’t there.
Still, the reading on the screen doesn’t waver. You stare at it until your watering eyes force you to blink.
You chew the nail of your middle finger until it tears. Sweat slicks the small of your back and the soft skin under your arms.
“Okay,” you whisper to yourself. “Okay.”
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WHITE DRESS
Posting this again, because I can’t stop thinking about the Goddess moment and that one photo from pinterest 😌
ꕤ Theo Nott x fem!reader
ꕤ enemies to lovers, a little bit of smut - not for minors
ꕤ originaly part of the jinxedjuly challenge, with second week prompt nightswim, but now it’s too late I’m sorry 😬
It’s 3 am and you can’t sleep. It’s too hot outside, no air to breathe in your room. Putting your thin long dress on, you go take a walk outside around the pool.
It’s still hot outside, but the light breeze coming from the sea feels great on your skin.
You sit on one of the pool lounges and close your eyes, listening to the sounds of the night. Finally, you can relax, your mind a little more at ease.
Suddenly something doesn’t feel right. You feel compelled to look behind you and there it is. A silhouette. There. In the dark entrance to the pool area.
It moves closer to you and comes into the light. Theodore. You roll your eyes. The bane of your existence. You can’t believe your friends invited him and no one told you.
“What the fuck do you want? Why are you following me?” You don’t have a good relationship. He is a fuckboy with a body worthy of Greek gods but is such an asshole to you, makes fun of everything you do or say, constantly.
“Oh Princessa, don’t you think you give yourself too much credit sometimes? It may come as a surprise to you, but the universe does not revolve around you, you know?”
“You fucking…” but you don’t even bother finishing the sentence, you just stand up and with an angry and disappointed sigh stomp to him and try to storm around him back into the house.
You make it a point not to look at him but you catch a strange look on his face in your peripheral vision anyway.
His arm shoots out and catches you off guard. It curls around your waist and pulls you into him. What is happening?
Theo speaks right into your ear: “I think you need to loosen up a bit princess, maybe a little night swim with me will help you.” You can just imagine the smirk on his face but you don’t have any time to respond, because the asshole picks you up and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You can admit to yourself that the view of his ass in the swim trunks is not half bad but you don’t, because he runs towards the pool.
FUCK.
The shock of the water against your skin and all around you makes you panic for a second too long but strong arms pull you up and hold you above the surface of the water. Your angry scowl goes unnoticed by him as he leaves you leaning against the wall of the pool once you gather yourself.
“I hate you so much. What is your problem, asshole?”
He completely ignores you and swims to the other side of the pool. When he turns around, you know he has his stupid smirk on his face, even though you don’t see his mouth, only his eyes above the surface.
Your friends said he is “such a nice person”, but why is he always such a prick to you? Some say it’s because he wants your attention, pulling on your pigtails and whatnot. Maybe you should get back at him and test that theory at the same time.
You’ve never been shy, but this took a lot of courage from you. Getting out of the pool you walk across the deck to where he leans against the wall, his eyes so big, you already feel accomplished.
The thin material of the dress clings to the curves of your body, it’s completely seethrough when wet. Coupled with you not wearing any underwear beneath the dress, the look on his face is priceless. He can’t look away. You enjoy the sight of him with his mouth open, eyes big, not blinking. His stare travels all around your body and he seems like he is in a trance. You stop right beside him, the height difference that being out of the pool gives you goes straight into your head and you smirk down at him.
“Thank you for that, I was too hot. You can close your mouth now, loverboy.”
The way he looks at you from beneath your feet makes you feel like a Goddess, him your most devoted worshipper. You can basically see the hearts in his eyes. The theory has proven to be right.
Satisfied, you turn to leave, but his hand shoots forward and gently touches your ankle, careful not to make you trip, but it makes you turn around again.
Theo stands up on the higher pool step and it makes his eyes level with your chest. He grabs your thighs and the way he looks at you makes you drunk on his gaze. Shit. This was not part of the plan.
He picks you up, hands around your waist, pulls you down into the water again, and pins you against a wall of the deep end of the pool. With his hands caging you in, you can’t look away from his eyes behind the wet curtain of curls. The strange look is back in his eyes and his gaze falls on your still wet lips. You can’t look away. You follow the water droplet, traveling from the end of the hair strand, down his nose, all the way to his pouty lips. When it disappears into his slightly open mouth, you forget how to breathe altogether. His mouth is so close to yours. Suddenly your lips touch, and something between you, the tension that, unbeknownst to you, has been stretching, tightening, and growing for a long time now, snaps. You forget everything around you, the only thing you feel is his lips on yours, his hands in your hair, the length of his body pushing against yours.
Fingers caressing your nipples, but it’s not enough.
Thigh between your legs, but your dress is too long.
Hand pulling the dress up, trying to bunch it up against your thighs, but it’s too tight.
Head falling against your shoulder, Theo sighs into your neck, frustrated.
“Fuck! You know what Princessa? Tomorrow. Same time, here in the pool. Wear something easier to take off, or I’ll tear it right off of you.” He whispers in your ear and your whole body erupts in goosebumps.
He doesn’t look at you while he gets out of the pool, and walks to the mansion, but the evidence of his arousal is on display.
Time to find an even longer and tighter dress, for him to rip to pieces tomorrow.
IT CONTINUES
As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it.
If you want more: 🖤here🖤
#harry potter fanfiction#drabble#theodore nott#theo nott x reader#jinxed july#jinxedjuly#slytherin boys#pictures from pinterest#theo nott smut#smutty fanfiction#smut#hp fanfic
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to deserve perfection (shanks x fem!reader)
req: Could you do a Shanks x reader (fem or gn) hurt comfort where Shanks gets really insecure about having only one arm. Maybe like during a fight they fall and another crew member catches you or like during a party or something she dances with one of their crewmates and Shanks gets sad and insecure he can't fold her like that
a/n: my first request YIPPEE :D tysm for requesting anon it means a lot :’D also i’m not super familiar with Shanks’ crew so i’m basing my knowledge of them and the general crew dynamics on OPLA and other fics i’ve read :3c
contents: fem!reader, unexplicit mentions of chronic pain and drowning, insecurity, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort
wc. 2.3k
i.
Shanks is often of the opinion that if any one person in the world is deserving of nothing less than perfection, it would have to be you.
you, the beloved botanist and assistant doctor of the Red Hair Pirates.
you, one of the few people he’s ever known to able to balance logic and empathy flawlessly. it’s a skill he finds quite lacking in the world in general, which makes your presence in the crew all the more valued.
you, the one he watched grow from timid young girl to confident woman just as he, himself, grew from a playful young boy to a man worthy of your seemingly endless love—or at least he hopes.
Shanks has never thought of himself as a perfect man—far from it actually. but now, only a little over a year since he lost his arm saving Luffy, he feels the most imperfect he’s ever felt.
ii.
he fears he’s a burden.
but Shanks keeps his worries to himself, opting to simply smile softly in gratitude whenever your eyes flicker over his face as your hands gently rub the special ointment over his stump. he didn’t even ask for your help tonight, as usual you simply read him like a book and ushered him over to your bed, bottle of the homemade remedy at the ready.
as much as he feels unworthy of your time and effort, he can’t help the light fluttering feeling in his chest, especially when your fingers travel up past his shoulder blade toward the back of his neck. you play with the ends of his hair before pulling him down to close the gap between your mouths.
“feeling better?” you ask after pulling away. you can’t help but chuckle when his lips chase after yours for a moment before opting to simply pout pitifully when you stop him by pressing your fingers to his bottom lip.
”i always feel better with you.” Shanks doesn’t quite answer the question but you accept it anyway. you trust he’d tell you the truth if your medicine truly stopped being effective; just as you trust him to lean on you in times of need, whether it be physical or emotional.
you’ll learn in the near future, however, that trust of such a nature can be easily shattered even from the purest of intentions.
iii.
the longing look in his captain’s eyes as he watches you dance with the locals is not lost on Shanks’ first mate. while the rest of the crewmates cheer and clap, all now inebriated to a certain degree as always, Benn Beckman walks over and takes a seat beside him as inconspicuously as possible.
”y’know you still have your legs, right?” the ever-easygoing captain can’t help but laugh out loud in response.
”straight to the point, huh?” he replies before taking another gulp of beer.
”i’ve known you both long enough to know she’d love to dance with you.”
“i know.”
i just don’t want to embarrass her.
the conversation dies for a few minutes as the two men sip at their drinks, eyes glued to the festivities taking place under the starry night sky. the massive bonfire illuminates your face in a way that accentuates your wide, carefree smile and your crescent-shaped eyes.
Shanks watches as you clumsily imitate the traditional dance moves, cheered on and encouraged by men, women and children alike as they take turns holding your hands and spinning you around. Even though a relaxed smile is plastered on his face, he can’t help but feel a soreness grow in his chest at the sight of you being twirled and dipped by the handsome male warriors of the village.
”are you sure we won’t get caught?” you whispered, though your willingness to follow and excited smile stretching across your face screamed that you didn’t care about getting caught at all.
”of course we won’t, just be quiet.” Shanks carefully pushed open the door leading to the front deck.
when the coast seemed clear enough he led you over to the centre of the deck of Roger’s ship before dramatically bowing and offering his hand.
”may i have this dance, milady?” you could only let out a muffled laugh as you placed your hand in his, a silent acceptance. he wrapped his other arm around your middle and started to sway to an imaginary tune.
neither of you knew how to actually dance, especially not like how the rich folk do in their fancy ballrooms. but earlier that day he’d asked what you wanted for your birthday and you said the first thing on your mind: to dance with him under the stars.
thus he made your dream come true, even if it did end with sore toes and sweaty skin.
“it’s not like you to just sit back and watch.” Beckman breaks the silence between them, yanking Shanks out of his memories. the first mate gestures to what essentially looks like a queue of men and women waiting their turn to dance with you. a bitterness emerges in the back of his throat at the sight.
both of the men know that on any other day, Shanks would’ve long intervened to steal you away for himself. reclaim his treasure, is how he used to describe it.
”whatever it is,” his dear friend says with a hint of resignation in his voice as he stands up. “don’t let it fester. you both share something special, don’t let it go to waste.”
iv.
you can tell he blames himself. no one else on the crew does but you also know that it doesn’t matter to Shanks, not when a mistake involves your safety.
a scuffle with the marines was not on that day’s agenda; especially not one out in the open seas while the darkened clouds overhead poured mercilessly.
what started as an issue that could have been resolved in under and hour lasted nearly twice as long due to the unfortunate weather impairing everyone’s vision and movements. the deck was simply too slippery, the waves were too high, and the ambush was too sudden.
you struggle to remember much of what actually happened after you slipped and fell overboard. all you can really recall is clinging onto the deck’s edge for dear life, Shanks reaching out as he cried your name, your fingers slipping from his desperate grasp, and then a bone-chilling coldness overwhelming your entire being. you remember gasping for air only to ingest a mouthful of salty water.
then, you’d woken up in the infirmary.
now you find yourself standing outside your own locked bedroom door, knuckles sore from knocking for the past hour.
“Shanks, my love,” you plead, “let me in, won’t you? i just want to see you.” you try to keep your voice steady but it gets harder with each subsequent word. “please? don’t lock me out.”
first you nearly drowned and now the love of your life is refusing to let you into your own room? tired and confused, you blink away the hot tears pooling in your eyes as you breathe deeply and slowly in an attempt to soothe your aching heart.
after a few more minutes of waiting, your sadness twists itself into some mixture of confusion and indignant frustration. it’s not like Shanks to cut you off like this and you refuse to believe that a single incident is enough to ruin a lifetime spent by each other’s sides.
it takes five kicks to break the lock of your bedroom door and four steps to reach the bed where your beloved husband lays curled into himself. just the sight alone melts away your anger; and when he lets out a strained whine, you feel your heart sink as your body enters autopilot.
you swiftly grab a bottle of ointment from the bedside drawer before crawling on the bed towards Shanks’ back. gently, you pull the blanket off him and reach over his body to roll him into a better position. thankfully, he doesn’t resist.
”is this why you weren’t opening the door?” you ask softly as you sit him up to unbutton his shirt. “was it too sore?”
oh how easy it would be to say yes and just leave it at that and receive your unconditional, undeserved forgiveness for my selfishness.
but i can’t lie.
not to you.
”No,” he whispers, avoiding meeting your eyes with his own. you hum in response, focused more on gently rubbing the soothing ointment over his aching stump.
”then why?” you prod, though your tone remains soft and genuine. “why didn’t you want to let me in?” you scoot closer, your chest now brushing against his right shoulder as you reach around to apply more medicine. your other hand subconsciously rubs his back.
”you must’ve known i wanted nothing more than to sleep in my own bed and cuddle my own husband after being fished out of the sea,” you add on with a laugh that Shanks doesn’t reciprocate.
ah, gotcha.
”so this is about me falling into the ocean, hmm?” you redirect your ointment-coated hand to his chin before tilting his face over to lock your eyes onto his own. “everyone knows it was an accident.” you offer him a small smile as your hand on his back travels up to rub at his neck. “aside from the shock of it all, i’m totally fine.”
”i should’ve been able to pull you up,” Shanks finally chokes out, lunging forward to bury his face into your chest. “i shouldn’t have let you fall into the water to begin with. the waves were so rough, we could’ve easily lost you.” he wraps his arm around your waist, fingers gripping tightly onto the back of your shirt; as though you would disappear once again if he wasn’t holding on tightly enough.
”but you didn’t lose me,” you coo, feeling your own heart twist and ache as you return the hug, holding him as close to you as possible. “i’m still here. it’s okay, my love.”
”i was fucking useless,” he exhaled, shoulders beginning to tremble. “i couldn’t even be the one to dive in after you. i wouldn’t have been able to swim and pull you up at the same time.”
you feel your eyes burn with tears for the second time today as you listen to Shanks berate himself.
”i couldn’t hold onto you. i couldn’t keep you safe. i can’t even dance with you like how we used to.” for the first time in years, he was losing it and it terrifies you.
“stop! stop saying all that!” you can’t help but raise your voice as you pry his face away from your body, no longer allowing him to hide anymore. when he finally looks at you, you see that your teary eyes are mirrored on his handsome face. although he looks up at you silently, you feel his hand tremble from how hard he’s holding onto your clothing.
“you—” you struggle to find the words. how were you supposed to reassure the most amazing man you’ve ever met that his thoughts of self-loathing are unfounded?
”Shanks, you’re…” you feel a fresh wave of hot tears run down your face when you see how tired he looks. it’s as though these thoughts have been running in his mind for longer than you think, and it’s exhausting him.
“you’re perfect,” you finally say as you cup his face between your hands before leaning down to brush the tip of your nose against his. “you’re so perfect. i don’t care how many limbs you have or scars you collect. i’d love you all the same until the day i die.”
“you deserve more.” Shanks can’t help but say what’s been plaguing his mind for weeks. although the relief of letting it out feels good, he can’t help the tightness in his chest when he sees you frown.
”what more could i possibly deserve, you silly man?” you let out a choked laugh, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes to wipe away his tears, old and new. “i don’t think you realise how lucky i am to have had you for so long. i’ve been loving you since we were children, for crying out loud.” you pause to breathe. “and with all the beautiful women we meet at every new island we visit, who clearly want to take my place; sometimes i feel like it’s only a matter of time before they steal you away—”
you’re cut off by Shanks capturing your lips with his own. the hand that was previously crumpling your shirt now trailing up your body before stopping at your face. you lean into the warmth of his palm whilst keeping your lips on his, saliva mixing with salty tears.
“don’t be ridiculous,” he pants the words out the moment you pull away for air. “don’t ever say such a thing.”
”now you know how i felt when you said all those awful things about yourself.” you turn your head to press a kiss to his palm, smiling when you see how his cheeks flush redder than they already are. “but you shouldn’t hide these thoughts anymore, my silly boy. you need to talk to me so i can tell you how ridiculous you’re being.” your finger pokes his chest, drawing a warm chuckle from the love of your life as he smiles for the first time since you were pulled out of the ocean depths.
“i love you,” Shanks whispers, words muffling halfway when presses his lips to your forehead mid-sentence.
”love you, too.”
#one piece x reader#one piece#one piece x yn#one piece x you#shanks x reader#red haired shanks#shanks#angst#fluff#hurt/comfort#imagine#fanfic#opla x reader#one piece live action x reader
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DPxDC AU: Ellie was going to beat the shit out of this space cop if he was lying…she might just do it anyway but, like, fr she’ll throw down on Danny’s behalf.
Enter scene following a bad tandem clone + identity reveal where in Danny is captured and wounded, Ellie escaping just narrowly. She manages to get Sam and Tucker on her side and together the three of them save Danny. (Where was Jazz? Why couldn’t she find Jazz?)
Ellie has traveled all over the world, has seen its hospitality just as much as its hostility- besides Danny liked space right? Mostly, Ellie is panicking and, being unable to think of a place to take Danny while he’s bleeding out on her, she just goes… up. Out of the atmosphere and just beyond the satellites. It finally feels far enough away, tho she didn’t take them beyond the moon, she has limits to her paranoia thank you.
Imagine to her annoyance that apparently someone actually watches for biological materials leaving and re-entering the earth! Total Bullshit! She’s needed to make a number of trips back and forth to get Danny food and water and medical supplies- and she’s doing a damn good job of getting him stable. Too bad she hadn’t realized the ring guy following her sooner.
Turns out he’s “made a report” and “will find them justice” and “wants to help”. Yeah right. She throws down with him as best she can, and he clearly doesn’t want to hurt her so he keeps letting her get away with Danny in tow. Danny is sleeping through most of this but a few times he lets out a woop or a go get ‘em.
Eventually Hal calls the only person on the team with a single paternal bone in his body (even if it was only a single one most days). Pulling Batman into a spacesuit, into a ship and across the atmosphere shouldn’t have been that easy- though it was obvious how his agreement came immediately after Hal mentioned the wounded and entirely isolated twins he’d found.
#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny phantom#dc crossover#dp crossover#danielle#plz continue#I beg#by the time danny is recovered/comes to Ellie has fought all of his alien hero idols and he dies a second time#Ellie: if the green guy didn’t want to get punched he should’ve stayed in his own mind#Danny: el. that’s Martian man Hunter. el please say you didn’t#ellie regrets nothing and now Danny’s new coworkers all know where they stand#mixed results for bat adoption lmao#gl might even adopt tbh just to keep a better eye on her the guy seems chill#oh wait the male twin is over powered and has zero chill wait fuck batman give that one back
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See, with this newly revealed information for Sage and Aurora's friendship, love it btw, how did Shadow and Aurora's first date go? Who asked who? Where did they go?
I'm so happy to hear you're a fan of the Luminescent Ladies! 🤩 The first date was very casual, but a hit! Shadow is the one who asks Aurora out and they go to a café and end up spending hours together.
Since I've never fully written out the full Shadora story, bits and pieces of it exist here on my blog but sometimes the details change. But here's a very rough version of how I envision their first date going:
(If you're familiar with my story, you can skip the text in blue)
Shadow has spent the last several decades taking odd merc jobs in deep space in the hopes that he'll run into the woman he fell for years ago, but he never finds her. Rouge eventually convinces him to head back "home," and since he's never failed a goal before he decides he has to replace it with a new one: Get to know and enjoy the planet Maria always wanted to visit. So he heads back and that's where he meets Aurora (she does not know him yet, as she meets him later in her life via time travel). He's pretty certain Aurora is the woman who saved him years ago, but since she doesn't seem to know him he thinks maybe she's been reincarnated or something, he isn't sure. He wants to know her better and find out.
Since Shadow's new goal is to better acquaint himself with the planet he abandoned decades ago and since Aurora knows her hometown like the back of her hand, the two decide that she will be his guide (his 'guiding light' if you will 😉 ) around town. (Shadow doesn't need one. He's the ultimate life form; he's plenty fine exploring on his own. But he considers this an opportunity to do some recon to get to know her better). It mostly starts fairly professional even though Aurora does flirt with him a lot (she can't help it, just look at him!) but Shadow quickly becomes fond of her, and he decides he wants to pursue her romantically.
As they are going to bid each other goodbye after one of their tours, Shadow asks "You have a recommendation for every kind of activity in this town, correct?"
A: "Yeah! What is it you're looking for next?"
Sh: "Something... romantic, but humble. Where one might go for a first date."
And at first Aurora is internally thinking "Dang, so he is interested in somebody." But she dismisses that thought because it's none of her business who Shadow spends his time with.
She's gotten to know him a bit by now so as she's pondering ideas she's taking into consideration that he doesn't like loud, busy scenes and would likely enjoy somewhere more intimate, and she remembers him mentioning that he likes coffee. So she suggests this quaint little café that's on the edge of town.
He says "Very well" and surprises her by taking her hand and asking "Would you accompany me there tomorrow afternoon?"
She's shocked but enthusiastically agrees. He offers to "pick her up" at her house so they can go together, but since even as an adult Aurora still lives at home with her parents, she knows that if Sonic answers the door he will be very wary and likely follow them to see what's going on. She doesn't want the date to go awry before it's even happened lol So she convinces Shadow that she'll just meet him at the café.
Aurora is VERY nervous as she has basically no experience dating. She's only had a "boyfriend" once when she was a very little kid and that was really more of just a crush when she was too young to be dating anyway. She also has no idea why Shadow would be interested in her because she thinks she's pretty boring compared to him. (She even briefly thinks "Oh no, what if this is a prank!?")
But upon meeting him at the café he makes it very clear this is a date, bringing her flowers and being a real gentleman by getting her chair for her and all that jazz. Initially she is super self-conscious but Shadow quickly makes her feel really giddy (Ex: SH: "Wow, you look-" A: "Too bright?! I can tone it down! I just have to bend the light to make my clothes darker-" SH: "I was going to say 'lovely'. Please, don't dull your light for me." A: *Can't help but glow more*)
She very quickly gets swept off her feet haha.
They end up losing track of time and even continue to hang out on the outdoor patio after the place has closed and enjoy the sunset together. Before he gets the chance, Aurora over-enthusiastically asks if Shadow would like to have a second date with her and he warmly says yes.
-----
For the record, I'm always open to y'all's ideas of how Shadow and Aurora's first date would go down. If you want to write your own version of their date and it's completely different, I'd still love to read it :)
#my art#ask me#evayQA#shadora#shadowxaurora#shadowxaurora?#aurora the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#canon x oc#my au#sonic trash
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Fictober Day 8: Sex Toys
Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Prompt: Sex Toys (✨)
Summary: Matt wants to use one of your sex toys on you for the first time, but things don't quite go as planned.
Warnings: SMUT (18+), use of a vibrator, use of "good girl", slight degradation, slight Dom!Matt, unprotected p in v, breeding kink
Word Count: 2k
A/n: Jesus, this was supposed to be a Drabble. Matt took over toward the end though and added another thousand words, so now you get to have this filthy little (big) piece.
Read Me On AO3!
He’s towering over you. The billboard's lights paint a blue and purple mosaic on his bare skin. His eyes are closed as he listens to your every breath, and every beating of your heart. But there’s something else in the air tonight.
The steady buzzing of your vibrator glides up, up, up your thigh. You can’t remember when you’ve last been this on edge, this close to falling off the carousel without ever being pushed.
Matt is calm—too calm. He’s taking his time pressing the current into your skin, soaking your little impatient noises up like a sponge. You’re so wet already, naked and spread out for him as his cock rests achingly hard against his stomach, but he’s nowhere near done with you. And he won’t let you touch him. You’ve tried; you’ve tried to reach out for him, but he slapped your hand away.
“Not yet,” he’d said to you. “I want to try something first.”
When he pulled out the box with all your toys that you keep around for when you feel needy and alone without him, you knew that his hands wouldn’t be the only thing touching you tonight. It’s exciting, to try things you have never tried before. At first, you were scared to tell him about your occasional habit of pleasuring yourself when time won’t allow him to do it, but he was never opposed to it. Not that he has any right to be, anyway.
You never expected this to happen though.
You never expected Matt to pull out your bright pink vibrator and tell you how badly he wants to fuck you with it until you can’t help but scream his name.
Your skin tingles at the low temperature of the toy. You would ask him to warm it up for you, but you doubt you could get a word out even if you tried. You’re hot to your very core, but with the vibrator gradually sliding up to travel the valley between your breasts, you find yourself suddenly freezing.
Matt must be able to tell. Goosebumps erupt on your skin everywhere he touches you without touching you. He reaches out to brush the tip of his calloused thumb over it, collecting the sweat that has started to pour from your pores and rubbing it in. You’re not cold, the action is supposed to say. And he’s right, you’re not cold, it just feels like you are. Every nerve in your body is on fire. It almost hurts how badly you want him to do something, anything. You need to come. You need to feel the vibrator against your cunt, or your clit, or perhaps both. You want him to kiss you and hold you as he thrusts the stupid toy into you, always angled toward that spot. Higher and higher and higher until finally, you come.
Matt presses the tip against your nipple, and you cry out. You couldn’t focus, so he made you focus. White hot pleasure courses through your veins, infecting you like some kind of disease, but you wouldn’t mind if it killed you. So many different temperatures, so many different sensations. Now you know what it must feel like for him, at least a little bit. It’s so incredibly intense you forget how to breathe.
“Look at me,” he says.
Somehow, he always knows when you don’t.
You open your eyes, your vision blurry as you take on the vision that is him. You could cry just from how beautiful he is.
“Good girl.” He draws a circle around your nipple then. “Just feel.”
You try to shut your legs for some kind of friction, but he pushes them apart again. Matt clicks his tongue. “I take it back.” Gently, he smacks the vibrator against your breast, but it’s enough to make you jolt. “Bad girl,” he says.
Asshole.
“Language.”
Did you say that out loud? Fuck.
“Please,” you beg. “I’m sorry, Matty. Please, just…”
“What?” He circles the other breast, turning the toy up a notch. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
“Touch me,” your voice is barely above a pathetic whisper.
He shakes his head. “You can do better than that.”
You abandon the thought of cursing him out again. You want to be his good girl, you do.
“Touch me,” you repeat.
His hand comes to rest on your stomach, just below your heart. “Like this?”
You suck in a sharp breath.
“Or like this?” He leans forward, pressing his lips against your skin, featherlight. You barely feel it.
A whine slips past your lips.
Matt slides the vibrator back down your body. You don’t notice; you’re too focused on the way his lips are moving along your sensitive abdomen, getting bolder with each inch he covers. His hand traces every crevice and every scar he can find. He knows you inside and out, yet he touches you as though it is the very first time. The very first night you got together. Like he can’t believe you’re his, and he needs to take his time worshiping—no, memorizing you. In case you slip through his fingers after this, and all he will have left is your memory.
You would never do that to him, but you know just how scared he gets. He needs to do this. He needs to feel you. And you are more than willing to give your body, mind, and soul to him. If you could, you would serve it on a silver platter, for you know that you are safest with him.
He hums at the hitch of your breath, the slight uptick in your heartbeat. His fingers splay over the left side of your chest. You’re alive. Your heart is beating for him, and that’s all that matters.
“Or maybe like this?” he says, and the moan you let out borders on a scream when he pushes the vibrator directly against your pussy.
The wave building within you is already tall enough to level a small town.
Matt glides the tip over your swollen clit. “You’re so wet. Fuck. I barely touched you.”
You are grasping at the sheets, at the pillows, but the silk slips through your fingers. “Matt,” you choke out.
“I know.” He presses a kiss to your sternum. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”
The wave threatens to crash into you. It shouldn’t be possible, and yet, it is. He’s made it possible.
You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands as he pushes the vibrator against your entrance. At the setting it is now, you can feel the electricity in your every bone. He pushes it in until you’re full of the silicone.
You’re moaning, thrashing, and clawing at him for something to hold onto. You are so close—so, so close. You don’t understand what’s happening to you.
His hand comes to cup your breast again. “Look at you,” he murmurs, raspy against your skin. His kisses have no aim, simply caressing your skin as he would worship at the shrine of the ever-loving Catholic God he believes in. Right now though, you are his God, and he would lay his life down for you. He would sacrifice his life just to listen to you fall apart, just to make sure you’re okay and he has done everything to give you what you need.
Because neither heaven nor hell would mean anything without you.
Your hips buck into the vibrations, into his touch, and you can feel your control fading. The wave is close enough for you to touch. Every crevice in your body wants to burst, every muscle straining to hold on, to hold you on the edge just a little longer, but it’s hard—so hard.
Matt grunts, teeth digging into your flesh. His cock jumps at the sounds you’re making, the way you’re clenching around the toy and your scent so fucking thick in the air he will probably smell you for weeks to come. Pre-cum has long started leaking from his tip.
He thought this was a good idea, getting to explore you in an entirely new way, but Good Lord, he can’t stand the thought of a toy giving you this much pleasure when he is right there to fill you to the brim.
He stops below your ear, only to whisper, “Safe word?”
Your eyes roll back into your head. “R-red,” you stammer.
“Good girl. Remember that.”
But why ask?
Your question answers itself when he suddenly pulls the vibrator out of you, leaving you painfully empty and wet. You cry out again, though this time out of pure disdain. You were so close.
He ruined it.
He fucking ruined it.
“No,” you whine. “Please…”
He shushes you with his lips, and then his cock thrusts into you. You don’t have time to process before he bottoms out. The stretch is familiar yet new, reigniting the fires he blew out mere seconds ago. He’s thick, bigger than average, and he fills you up so good. Your lips part, but nothing wants to come out. You can’t moan. You can’t scream. He’s inside of you, and all you can think is, ‘Fucking finally!’
Matt slides his tongue into your mouth to silence himself. You’re warm and tight, and if he weren’t so determined to make you come all over his cock before he gets to see the pearly gates, he would have already burst.
Though neither of you is going to last very long.
Your legs wrap around his waist. That’s why he asked. He holds onto your thigh as you cling to him, nails running down his back until he’s red all over until he’s marked by you.
Once he’s got his bearings, he’s not holding back. The pace he sets is brutal. He thrusts into you with abandon, angling your leg to get as deep as he possibly can, and he fucks you into the mattress like a man starved. It’s that way, too, that he kisses you.
The bed creaks with every snap of his hips against yours. You swear you can feel him in your stomach, the way he’s taking you apart with only his cock. You’re falling with nowhere to land, but he’s falling with you. Hard, and fast.
Matt bites your lip, tugging it back before crashing his mouth into yours again. You’re sure one of you must be bleeding.
“I need you to come,” he pants, teeth dragging along your jaw. “Need you to…” He grunts.
The orgasm continues to build as the wave gains momentum.
“Come for me.”
You cry out his name when you do, the wave crashing in and drowning you all at once. Your heart beats out of your chest and into his. One more thrust. Two. Even a third one, and then, he spills into you.
For a short while, the world stops turning. You’re floating in a void detached from space and time. All that fills the room now is the sound of your labored breathing.
Minutes pass by. The lights of the Billboard continue to flicker, throwing a blanket of color over you.
Matt is the first to break the silence. “Was that…” he trails off.
Your chest rumbles with a soft chuckle, holding his fragile body a little tighter to yours. “Oh yeah,” you say. “It was.”
He nuzzles his nose further into your chest. “Good. That’s… good.”
What he doesn’t tell you, at least not yet: there are a lot more toys in that little box of yours that he is eager to try out, and he will make sure to come inside you with every last one of them. To fill you up. To breed you so he can taste himself inside your pussy when he eats you out at the end of this—as he always does.
He’s going to make you come so many times, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You won’t even be able to remember your own damn name. Only his. And it will only be his cock that will make you do so. As fun as toys are, there are some things he would rather do himself when he can.
You don’t quite know it yet, but tonight is going to be a very long night for you.
@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock smut#matt murdock#daredevil#daredevil x reader#pwp#lizzi's fictober 2024#charlie cox
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Something to Prove
Pairing: Osferth (The Last Kingdom) x f!reader Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~3k
Summary: Osferth is keen to sate curiosity when questions are raised as to why he has women fighting over him.
Author's note: Day eleven of Smuffmas - party and position changes. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.
She was exhausted, and hot. It was a chilly winter’s evening, and yet her skin felt clammy. The air in the tavern hung humid and heavy, the place more crowded than it had ever been. Loud cheers, laughter and the crash of wooden flagons being knocked together in joyous toasting filled the space, the cacophony of it all so loud that she could scarce hear the shouts for more ale that rang out in chorus each time a group had drained their mugs.
Her tired feet carried her ceaselessly from behind the bar and back again each time she emptied her jug and needed to refill it from the cask. The flagstone floor was sticky underfoot, and she had to be careful not to add to the mess by spilling what she carried, as the shoulders of revellers jostled her while she worked her way through the crowd, refilling and topping off the drinks of those that held their cups out to her. She did not mind though, they had every reason to celebrate; Wintanceaster had achieved victory that day against the Danes. With the aid of Uhtred and his men, the city had been defended from invading forces. The battle had been fierce, yet those that had taken up arms against the Danes had fought bravely, cutting down the opposition and causing what little remained to retreat. Wintanceaster was safe once more.
Everyone present was eager to toast to Uhtred, to thank him for his help, and congratulate him for how valiantly he fought, yet it was another person entirely who captured her attention. Osferth, a warrior monk who had pledged his loyalty to Uhtred, fighting alongside him and his men – ordinarily, he wasn’t a man she would have looked twice at, yet tonight she could not keep her eyes off of him. Two days previous, she had witnessed two women fighting viciously over him, to the point that his lord had had to step in to separate them. She could understand such jealousy being expressed over Uhtred, Finan or Sihtric; they were surly, confident, everything one would expect when envisioning bravery and heroism. Osferth, though he stood at least a head taller than the three men he travelled with, was wiry, his demeanour timid and apologetic.
She was desperately curious about him and, without even being conscious of it, her eyes sought him out each time she made a pass of the room. He was lost in merriment, laughing and joking with Finan, slopping ale onto the floor each time he raised his drink. Perhaps she would never know precisely why he inspired such feelings of jealousy from other women, at least not from simply looking at him anyway.
“I need some air, will you be alright for a moment?” she asked the other barmaid, shouting to be heard over the noise, as she placed her empty jug back upon the bar.
The older woman nodded. “Go on, can’t have you fainting on me. Don’t be long though, they’re a rowdy bunch tonight.”
The bite of the crisp night air made her skin prickle as she pushed outside, rapidly cooling her sweat-dampened skin and making her shiver. It was refreshing. She leaned back against the rough stone wall of the tavern, the noise inside muffled to a dull hum as the wooden door thumped heavily closed behind her. She huffed a sigh, her breath puffing out into a white cloud against the inky black night sky.
A burst of the din from the tavern startled her as the door swung open again, quieting as quickly as it had come as the person who had stepped out gently pushed it closed. She looked over, her lips parting in shock as she saw Osferth, moving to lean his back against the wall on the other side of the door, next to her. She masked her surprise, offering him a tight lipped, polite smile in greeting, before looking away again.
“Are you alright, lady?” he asked her softly, a hint of concern in his voice.
“Mmm,” she affirmed quietly, smoothing her hands over the white apron that was tied around the waist of her linen dress. She kept her eyes fixed upon the ground, “it is warm inside. I just needed a moment to breathe.”
“Me too,” he replied, “I don’t think I have ever drank so much ale…may I…ask you something?”
She lifted her eyes to meet his, not moving her head as she cast him a playful sideways look and a smirk. “You already have.”
Osferth grinned, bowing his head as his eyes crinkled in amusement, and she lifted her face fully to watch him. “Yes, I suppose I have. But–” he turned fully to face her as he tucked his hands inside of the brown leather breastplate that he wore over his robes, “I have noticed you staring at me tonight, lady. May I ask why?”
Turning to face him too, she leaned her shoulder against the wall, her fingers fidgeting nervously with her apron. She didn’t want to tell him the real reason why, it was gossipy and impolite. “You fought bravely today, surely that is deserving of admiration?”
She watched his cheeks flush pink in the pale moonlight, as he looked through the window of the tavern, the soft glow of the lamplight inside illuminating the sharpness of his profile. He was quite beautiful to look at, she decided, as she studied the sharpness of his profile; an aquiline nose, strong jaw and high cheekbones.
He offered her a shy smile as he looked back at her. “It is my lord, Uhtred, who is deserving of your praise. Most do not even know my name.”
“You are Osferth, are you not?”
His eyebrows raised slightly as his lips parted in surprise. “I am,” he answered, pulling his hands free of his breast plate to fold them over his chest as he studied her face. “Might I know your name, lady, and the real reason for your interest in me?”
Her skin grew warm with embarrassment, despite the frost that had begun to settle upon the ground. She told him her name, hesitating before revealing the real reason for why she had been looking at him throughout the evening. “I saw those women fighting over you the other day, and I was curious about it. Forgive me, it is not my place to wonder. I should get back inside, I have been gone too long.”
Without another word or a glance back, she pulled the door open, enveloped in heat once more as she weaved her way back to the bar. She concentrated on keeping the ale flowing for the rest of the night, doing her best to keep both her mind and her eyes off of Osferth.
By the time the tavern closed for the evening, her body was practically crying out for the comfort of her bed and, thankfully, she did not have far to go. Her job included lodging – a small room located above the tavern, accessible from the outside of the building by stairs located at the back.
As she rounded the corner of the building, headed for the back of it, she gasped as she felt a hand grasp the top of her arm, accompanied by a soft whisper of her name. Heart hammering wildly and eyes wide with fright, she rounded on her assailant, preparing to defend herself against the worst.
She relaxed considerably as she stared up into the face of Osferth. He quickly let go of her arm, stepping back as he saw her fearful reaction. “Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you.”
His eyes were unfocused, his posture suggestive of a state of drunkenness that he had not been affected by when she had spoken to him earlier; he swayed slightly upon his feet, his posture not as rigid as it had been before. She worried that his group had left him in such a vulnerable state, and wondered if perhaps he had sought her out for help.
“How much ale have you had, Osferth?” she asked softly, gently grasping the leather cuffs that encased his forearms, holding him steady.
He blinked slowly, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he stared fondly down at her. “Enough that I feel no shame for what I am about to ask, and not so much that I will regret it in the morning.”
She furrowed her brow in confusion, tilting her head slightly. “What do you mean?”
He turned his arms in hers, his own fingers gripping her forearms in return. She could feel how cold his fingers were through the sleeves of her dress. “Your question earlier…I should like to sate your curiosity.”
Her skin grew heated with embarrassment at his brazen suggestion, yet the chill of his skin worried her more. “Come, let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”
Osferth trailed after her up the rickety wooden stairs to the room she occupied above the tavern, hovering quietly behind her as her fingers, numb with cold, struggled with the key in the lock. It wasn’t much better once inside, but it was a roof over their heads at least – a roof much closer to Osferth’s head than hers, in fact. She had to stifle a laugh behind her hand, once she had gotten the lamp lit – Osferth stooped within the small place – she had never taken the time to consider his height before, but seeing him dwarf the space around him really emphasised just how tall he was.
She cast her eyes around the modest room, as though seeing it for the first time – the small double bed that was pushed up against the far wall, and the tiny window above it, the chest that sat at the foot ot it, and the rickety table and chair tucked away in the corner, with a cracked and dusty mirror that rested precariously upon the tabletop, alongside the wooden tub that she used for washing.
Looking back at Osferth, her tone was apologetic. “It’s not much, I don’t even have a fireplace, but it’s better than being stuck outside. It was wrong of Uhtred to just leave you like that.”
“I asked him to,” he admitted, as his gaze moved around the room, lingering on each item until he looked upon the bed. “May I?” he gestured towards it, “I’m going to end up bumping my head otherwise.”
She allowed herself to laugh then, and he laughed with her, the drunken haze of his blue eyes shining in the soft lamplight. She simply nodded, gesturing for him to sit on the edge of the bed, before joining him.
“Why did you want Uhtred to leave you?” she asked after a moment, acutely aware of how his thigh pressed against hers as they sat side by side.
“I told you before,” he said, turning slightly so that his body faced her, though he looked at her through his lashes, as his head was bowed, “I wanted to show you why those women fought over me.”
She scoffed in amusement, shaking her head. “That is highly presumptuous of you. What if I had said no?”
“You didn’t though, did you?” he asked, reaching out and gently taking her hand. The contact made her pulse race, but she didn’t pull away.
“It would have been unkind to leave you out in the cold…”
“You could have given me a blanket and allowed me to sleep it off in the tavern,” he reasoned, as his thumb stroked gentle circles against the back of her head, “but you invited me up here. And I think we both know why that is.”
“I just–”
Osferth shook his head as he lifted it, his eyes imploring as they stared into hers. “I was a novice. I know what it is to deny yourself what you desire. I saw that same look in your eyes tonight every time you looked at me. I no longer deny myself, and I don’t think you ought to either.”
Her breath hitched at his words, the weight they carried stirring a nervous fluttering within her. She hadn’t realised it until now, but her grip on his hand was now vicelike. “You’re drunk,” she whispered.
“You are beautiful,” he said sincerely, as his free hand reached up to brush a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
The moment that his lips were upon hers, something inside of her snapped, all restraint and sense of proprietary leaving her. She let go of his hand, both of hers coming to ball into the fabric of his robes not covered by his breastplate as she pulled him close. His nimble fingers tangled into her hair, causing her to moan, allowing his tongue to lick against hers as their kisses grew more urgent, the sticky sound of their saliva and panted breaths filling the small space.
She helped him to disrobe, unbuckling his cuffs and giggling as the straps of his leather armor tugged at his hair as she helped him to pull it over his head. Once both fully undressed, she was scared to look upon his naked form, afraid to let him see her, in case she lost her nerve. Before she had the chance to change her mind, she crawled on all fours onto the bed, presenting herself to him. It was how every other man she had allowed to hump her had taken her, so she didn’t see why Osferth would be any different.
He surprised her when he didn’t immediately grasp her hips and force himself inside of her. His fingertips trailed the length of her spine, making her shiver. She felt the mattress dip as he knelt upon it, leaning over her, his chest against her back as he nuzzled into her neck. No one had ever treated her with such tenderness before, especially not while intoxicated. She turned her face towards his, her heart almost skipping a beat as she saw the soft reverence in his eyes. He pressed a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth as his fingers dipped between her thighs.
His touch was gentle, exploratory. He stroked her in a way that made her ache and throb, gathering arousal from her opening before circling her bud with it. It felt nice to be prepared in this way, no one had ever taken such care with her before. Only when she bucked and mewled under his ministrations, the ache between her legs growing almost intolerable, did he notch the head of his cock against her and press forward. The stretch was slow, but pleasant, the fullness of him inside of her made her push her hips back against him, impatient to feel more of him.
She heard him exhale shakily, before giving her hips a playful squeeze and beginning to thrust into her. It wasn’t hard and fast, as she was used to, he took his time with each pull back and forward motion, as if he was getting to know her body, learning what movements made her whimper and sigh softly in pleasure. When he pulled out altogether, she whined in protest at the loss of him, looking back over her shoulder at him in annoyance. Osferth chuckled softly, before coaxing her onto her back.
“What are you doing?” she asked, feeling prone and exposed in this position. Her eyes raked over him, he was thin, but corded with lithe muscle and small faint scars that covered his torso. His cock stood proud between his legs, flushed at the tip and shiny with her wetness.
He stared at her with similar appreciation as he grasped the base of himself. “I do not wish to rut you like an animal,” he told her. He pushed her thighs apart, leaned down and dragged the flat of his tongue against her dripping sex, making her cry out in surprise. Osferth grinned as his face reappeared from between her thighs, grasping her calves and placing them over his shoulders, before plunging back inside of her.
The angle knocked at a spot inside of her that made her throw her head back, screwing her eyes shut, her legs shaking as his hips started to move again. She clutched the bedsheets to ground herself, her knuckles blanching with the force of her grip.
“There you go,” Osferth whispered breathlessly, holding her legs firmly against his body as he rocked his pelvis, “this is how you should look – worshipped and carefree.”
She dared to open her eyes, lifting her head to look upon the place where their bodies joined. She watched in rapt fascination as he disappeared inside of her, drawing back each time to reveal his glistening shaft and the light thatch of curls that sat at the base of it.
His eyes were hooded as he watched her and he let go of her thighs, allowing her legs to rest of their own accord against his shoulders as one hand moved to tweak one of her nipples into a stiffened peak, while the other snaked between their bodies and began circling her sensitive pearl with his thumb.
“It is too much,” she protested weakly, writhing beneath him, the dual assault on her senses making her feel as though she would lose all control.
“Nothing is too much for you,” Osferth reassured her. The hand upon her breast moved back to her thigh as he turned his head to kiss the inside of her knee. “Almost there, I can feel it.”
She could feel it too. The insistent bullying of his cockhead against her sensitive walls, coupled with the relentless rubbing of his thumb against her swollen bundle of nerves were rapidly tightening the coil in her lower belly. She felt his erection begin to pulse, and the sensation pushed her over the edge. He pulled out as she cried out in ecstasy began to spasm, groaning as he painted her lower belly with pearly ropes of his spend. Their bodies shuddered together, utterly lost in the throes of their shared peak until, finally, Osferth collapsed beside her, panting heavily.
He gathered her against his chest, holding her close, not caring that her skin was sticky with his release, and she couldn’t help the contented smile that spread across her face.
“It has never been like that for me with anyone before,” she confessed quietly.
“Do you feel like you understand now why those women fought over me?” Osferth asked playfully, “if not, I’d be more than happy to show you again.”
She giggled, lightly swatting his chest. “You have certainly proven yourself, though I would never say no to another demonstration.”
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Chapter 11: tell me I've got it wrong somehow
series masterlist previous part || next part
pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.3k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, idiots in love!!, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), mentions of blood
Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?
A/N: FINALLY. except not really. oops!
June 30, 1816 – If last night’s ball was any indication, it seems Lady Y/N has lost interest in finding a husband this season. More than a few whispers indicate that the Montclairs will journey to Spain to find better prospects for their youngest daughter. Let this be a call to action to the eligible bachelors of the ton so that they might consider being more… enticing suitors for our beloved Y/N. All this, of course, is to ensure that the Montclairs do not flee to the Spanish sun at the conclusion of the season. If nothing else, the Montclairs must stay so we can avoid losing Lady Y/N’s much-needed sense of style.
Colin stared in disbelief at Lady Whistledown’s column, letting it fall from his hands as he leaned back in his bed. If you were going to Spain at the end of the season anyway, why was he still here? He’d much rather be as far away as possible from anything that even remotely reminded him of you.
Unfortunately, Daphne had given him some sort of misguided hope that staying in England would magically make you like him. Or perhaps make you hate him a little less. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was not the case.
He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed from one day to the next, but you could barely look at him now. After your promenade, Colin thought you’d finally put your differences aside, and he could, at some level, be grateful to Lord Barlow for that, even if the man had acted completely indecently.
But the truce didn’t last.
Just three days ago, he’d run into you on the way to your father’s study to discuss pearl diving, and his heart had nearly skipped a beat when he saw you. You looked beautiful as ever, of course, and he was just staring at you dumbly, wanting to take in as much of you as possible.
You’d been humming as you walked down the hallway, smiling softly to yourself as you passed by a particularly large flower arrangement you had most likely received from a suitor. At that moment, Colin was sure that if you ever looked at him like that he would never recover.
Colin had tried to call out to you. Maybe if you were out of sight of the rest of the ton, you’d be more willing to speak with him. But the words had died in his throat as you had looked up and spotted him, just staring at you, across the room.
Your eyes had widened, and your demeanor had instantly changed. A switch from serene to shaken so sudden that Colin had barely had time to react before you had clutched your skirts and ducked into the nearest room.
And though Colin had traveled halfway across the globe largely on his own, he had never felt so far from someone.
Even now, in his room, away from Montclair House, he couldn’t help the deep shame that washed over him as he recalled how immediately you had rushed to get away from him. And Colin still had no idea why.
That was the worst part of it all. If he only knew what the problem was, he’d fix it. He’d do anything to be with you. Colin had had more than his fair share of escapades during his time abroad, but nothing even came close to the feeling he got when he was around you. The only person he’d known to dislike him. It was a cruel twist of fate, and he’d think it was funny if he didn’t physically ache with the need to be near you.
The irony of the situation was not lost on Colin. The more he was consumed by you, the more you pulled away. He’d been doing his best to avoid social functions for this very reason, but he feared he would not be able to do the same tonight.
“Colin?” called Violet, peeking her head through his door. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…”
“I’m fine,” insisted Colin, wiping his slightly damp eyes and sniffing as he sat up.
“Anthony and Kate are hosting a ball tonight,” said Violet carefully. Colin’s recent absence from balls had not escaped her notice, but as much as she felt for her obviously lovesick son, he was not excused from familial duties.
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“And you will be in attendance.”
Colin groaned. “Must I really be there? It’s one ball!”
“Actually, it’s been something like fifteen balls,” Violet shot back, unimpressed. “And I have graciously allowed you to be absent from them, but you will not miss your brother’s ball. You are still a Bridgerton. We do not miss family events.”
Sensing he didn’t quite have a choice, Colin sighed, “Very well, then. Could I at least continue sulking before we go?”
Violet laughed softly and gave her son a sympathetic smile. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being in love. Even if it’s a complicated situation such as this one.”
“I’m not in love!” lied Colin. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not love.”
Violet raised her eyebrows pointedly but said nothing, closing the door quietly as she left her son’s room.
Once he was alone again, Colin let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. You would more than likely be in attendance tonight, and he needed to prevent what had happened in your hallway from happening again. He didn’t think he could bear having you practically sprinting away from him as soon as you saw him again.
Colin would simply have to stay out of sight of you. It was the only way he could stay at the ball. He didn’t ever want to look into your eyes and see the disdain and hurt that he saw three days ago. So, he decided he would be a wallflower tonight. Anything to keep you from seeing him. He would need to exercise a gargantuan amount of self-control to stay away from you when being near was the one thing he wanted, but the pained look in your eyes that haunted his sleep was enough to keep him in check.
---
Viscount Bridgerton’s ball was proving to be a supremely amusing affair. Your mother had decided that Louis should start looking for a wife, never mind that he was only two-and-twenty, and you were thoroughly enjoying watching how he was passed around from eligible lady to eligible lady.
After nearly an hour of dancing and politely chatting, your brother finally stumbled over to where you were standing. Of course, you couldn’t help but snicker as he muttered something or other about needing a drink.
“Tais-toi,” muttered Louis, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his breath (Shut up). “Maman veut aussi que tu danses avec quelqu'un” (Mother also wants you to dance with someone).
You turned to him, eyes wide. “Vraiment?” (Really?).
“Oui, c'est un autre duc,” Louis nodded and smiled evilly, gesturing toward where your mother was speaking to someone who looked to be at least Philippe’s age, if not older (Yes, it’s another duke).
“Non, mais je peux pas,” you whined (No, but I can’t). You thought your mother had given up on finding you a husband for this season, but you supposed she couldn’t help herself if it was a duke. Even if he were a prince, you were not so sure that you would want to speak with him.
Nigel Berbrooke and Lord Barlow, and you supposed Colin Bridgerton, too, had significantly dampened your excitement for the season. At this point, you were just looking forward to going to Paris for a few months once the season was officially over and trying to find a husband again in Spain next year.
But you didn’t even want to think about that. It felt like you were preparing for a prison sentence. One last year of traveling before you were limited to the confines of your future husband’s home with no escape other than your own mind. It was a chilling thought, and you were trying your hardest to avoid thinking about it. However, having your mother chatting you up to a duke was complicating that a bit.
Standing beside you, Louis was feeling quite annoyed after one grueling evening of speaking to unmarried ladies and their mamas. However, he knew that you had experienced about fifty times that many. So, taking pity on you, he leaned down and whispered, “Va dans le jardin, vite. Avant qu'elle ne revienne” (Go to the gardens, quick. Before she comes back).
Your eyes looked to the open doors leading to the gardens, and you decided the slightly nippy air was worth it if you could escape your mother and the unnamed duke. There were enough people outside that there was no risk of being caught in a compromising position, but it was far away enough from the ballroom that you knew your mother wouldn’t be able to find you immediately.
Flashing your brother a grateful smile and squeezing his arm, you practically ran toward the exit, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Once you were outside, you maneuvered yourself so you were hidden behind a fairly large plant, but still had a view of the ballroom through the window.
As Louis had predicted, your mother had come back to where you had been standing, duke in tow. She gave Louis a questioning look when she didn’t see you, and he simply shrugged, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. You sighed in relief, silently thanking your brother and promising to stop being quite so irritating toward him.
“Y/N?” you heard a voice say behind you.
Your stomach dropped. You turned around slowly, growing nervous as Lord Barlow came into your line of vision.
“Lord Barlow,” you said, feigning politeness in an attempt to avoid a scene. Your last interaction with him had not gone so smoothly, and you were afraid of what he would do now.
“So it is you,” said Arthur Barlow, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. He had never sounded so chilling when you were courting him, but you supposed at that time you hadn’t done yet anything to make him act so abrasive.
You cleared your throat nervously, looking around to see who else was nearby. But it seemed that everyone was too intrigued by this confrontation to put a stop to it. You internally cursed the duke for showing up at the exact moment that you wanted to be inconspicuous, but you smiled politely anyway.
“I hope you’re doing well,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say.
It seemed like the right thing at the moment, seeing as how no one, not even Lady Whistledown, knew what he’d been doing since he proposed to you. However, Barlow’s quickly narrowing eyes clued you in to the fact that it had actually been the exact wrong thing to say.
“You hope I’ve been doing well? You hope? I’m sure you do, Lady Montclair,” he said sarcastically, fury evident in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to learn that the Barringtons are positively drowning in debt. Sorry, were drowning in debt, since I had to pay off all of their debts once I was forced to marry into the family. And now I’m in financial ruin, all thanks to you. You, Y/N, have brought on the downfall of the Duke of Monmouth.”
You would be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit pleased that things had turned out poorly for Arthur Barlow. But more than satisfaction, all you felt was indignation as you looked at the pathetic man in front of you.
“I believe it was your decision alone to go outside the night of the Bridgerton ball, Lord Barlow,” you said, trying to sound as biting as possible. “It is a shame that your hubris has ruined your dukedom, but kindly leave me out of it.”
Barlow’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, as he practically shook out of barely contained anger.
“You harlot!” he screamed at you, raising his hand and reaching out to you.
“Barlow, you will cease at once!” came a commanding voice next to you.
You turned to see Colin Bridgerton at your side, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach that you felt every time you saw him. But now was not the time to get distracted by inconsequential feelings.
“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this,” you urged Colin. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
And surprisingly, you meant what you said. As much as you disliked Colin Bridgerton, you had no desire to see him hurt, even less so because of you. In some twisted way, you cared about this man. Far more than you cared about Lord Barlow, whom you had been ready to marry at one point in time. And more than anything it made you impossibly frustrated.
Upon hearing Colin, Arthur scoffed and turned to face him. “I see you’re happy to be next in line for my cast-offs, Bridgerton. But let me tell you, she’s far too uptight, that one. Won’t even put out when you tell her to.”
Immediately, your spine stiffened, anticipation tingling through your nerves as you sensed the mounting tension in the air. Colin growled lowly, clenching his fists and stepping closer to Lord Barlow. Yet, just as it seemed he might strike, the duke swiftly sidestepped, causing the Bridgerton to stumble.
Your lips parted in a silent scream as you saw Lord Barlow aim his fist at Colin. You watched, as if in slow motion, how Arthur’s knuckles made contact with Colin’s nose, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as he fell to his knees, his head thrown back with the force of the duke’s punch.
“Colin!” you screamed, finally finding your voice. You could barely breathe, feeling like your heart was beating out of your chest.
You rushed to his side, only vaguely registering that Lord Barlow was being roughly escorted out of the garden and likely out of the ball as well. Your eyes were glued to Colin, who was groaning in discomfort and bleeding profusely out of his nose.
“Colin, are you alright?” you gasped, kneeling beside him, and clutching his arms as you choked back sobs, your heart still beating out of your chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you scolded, tears running down your face as you found yourself unable to be civil with him even when he was kneeling on the ground with a bloody– and most likely broken– nose.
Colin, who was clutching his nose and groaning in pain, shot you an amused look. “Do I at least get some credit for trying to defend your honor?”
He sniffed, wiping away some of the blood with his hand, and reached for a handkerchief by his breast pocket. You were staring at him, horrified, as the blood kept streaming and he winced in pain. You had stopped sobbing now, but a steady stream of tears remained on your face as the panic mounted in you.
“Colin, you shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered again, trying and failing to sound upset with him as you instinctively reached out to wipe some blood off his cheek. You hiccupped as you reached over, trembling slightly as you did, but his hand caught yours before it could touch his face.
He suddenly smiled wide, and you rather thought he looked a bit deranged. There was blood on his face and his hands and he looked more than a little banged up, but he was still smiling widely at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Can you say that again?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.
“Say what? That you shouldn’t have done that?” you sniffled, wanting to cross your arms over your chest in annoyance but not wanting to let go of his hand.
“No, the part before that,” he said, smiling cheekily as he intertwined your fingers with his.
“How are you smiling after someone broke your nose?” you said, growing irritated with him but not quite letting go of his hand yet. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. That was a stupid thing to do, Colin-”
“Yes, that. Again,” he pleaded, the yearning evident on his softly smiling face as he grabbed his handkerchief with his free hand, holding it up to stop the flow of blood from his nose.
“Colin-”
“Yes, that’s it. Just say that again.”
You shot him a confused look. “Colin?”
Is that what he wanted you to say? His name?
“Yes?” he pressed, smiling wide at you. “Can you say that again, please?”
“Again? Colin, why-”
“You hadn’t ever called me Colin before,” he said, looking at you wistfully. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”
“Oh,” you gasped softly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I forgot myself. It-”
“No, please,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear to have you call me Mr. Bridgerton one more time.”
You averted your gaze and bit your lip, suddenly feeling very conflicted. This was Colin Bridgerton. This was the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you once he heard you didn’t put out for Lord Barlow. You could not be on a first-name basis with him.
“Y/N,” he said softly, cautiously.
And suddenly you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Maybe you could allow yourself to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it felt too good to hear him say your name. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him at arm’s length, and a half arm’s length would have to do.
“Colin.”
“I didn’t give him access to that terrace, you know,” Colin spoke, a hint of indignation lacing his words.
You nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I know. I was looking for anyone to blame when Lord Barlow was the only one who wronged me. Your mother told me he forced the door open.”
“I could never have done that to you, it would’ve been unseemly” Colin insisted, gripping your hand tighter.
But you froze. Couldn’t he have done that to you? Based on what you knew about him, he certainly could have. But it was so difficult to parse the man who had just now defended you against Lord Barlow, who was sitting on the ground next to you and holding your hand, with the man who had wanted to continue Nigel Berbrooke’s disgusting conversation at the Danbury ball.
Feeling you stiffen, Colin’s heart clenched. This couldn’t be happening again. What had he done wrong this time? He was here, on the ground, literally bleeding for you, and you still had something against him.
“Please talk to me,” Colin begged, suddenly feeling very desperate to fix whatever was happening between you once and for all. “If you want me never to speak to you again, I will do that, but I must know. I must know why you hate me.”
You shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand from Colin’s and placing it on your lap as you looked anywhere except for him.
“I don’t hate you-” you started weakly, but he was having none of it.
“Oh, spare me. I am not a fool. You hated me from the moment you saw me in Lady Danbury’s ballroom, even before our rivalry properly began.”
You bit your lip anxiously. If you were to tell Colin why you truly disliked him, and he was to take it in bad faith, you would be finished. Colin could tell everyone that you had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men of the ton, and given his place in society, no one would hesitate to believe him.
But it was exhausting. Hating him was far more difficult than anything you’d ever done, and you weren’t particularly eager to keep doing it. Perhaps this was the only way to let go, and trusting Colin right now would make things infinitely easier.
You finally met his gaze, feeling his blue eyes boring into yours. There was no anger in his expression, just a look of concern, with a hint of something else you couldn’t recognize.
Resigned, you sighed. “I saw you with Nigel Berbrooke at the Danbury ball before you even asked me to dance,” you explained.
A look of realization came over Colin’s face, and his lips, caked in dried blood, parted to make a perfect circle.
“Oh heavens,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed. “I apologize that you had to see that. Honestly, I would feel worse about what happened, but he really deserved it.”
“I beg your pardon?” you said, frowning. “He really deserved what?”
Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and he sent you a questioning look. “You saw me break his nose in the gardens, right? That’s what you’re talking about? I promise I’m not usually a violent man, though I’m not particularly proving my point tonight. I apologize if I scared you off; it was not my greatest moment, but I do stand by my actions.”
“You- You broke his nose?” you said, your confusion growing as you tried to piece together what Colin was telling you.
“Well, yes. That’s why he left town for a month. His face looked something awful, and he was too embarrassed to say why. Though that won’t be a problem for me, since everyone already saw my nose get broken anyway,” he shrugged, wincing as he lightly touched his nose. “That’s what you were referring to, no?”
“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” you said, mortified as the realization dawned on you.
“What?” he pressed. “What is it?”
“I didn’t see any of that. I heard you talking with Mr. Berbrooke in the hall. He said that you could have any girl you wanted and that you just had to look for one with a big dowry and good hips. And then you asked to continue the conversation outside. And I thought- I just thought-”
Colin’s eyes widened. “And you thought I actually wanted to continue the conversation.”
You nodded, barely able to meet his eyes because you were so embarrassed. “But I suppose you just went out to the gardens to... Oh, no. And when he came back into town, he told me the only reason you were- the only reason anyone was pursuing me was because they wanted what I wouldn’t give Lord Barlow.”
“Y/N, I would never-” Colin started, fury in his voice, but he was too mortified to continue.
All this time, you had every right to resent him, and yet he stooped to childish antics to spite you. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said those things; they were completely vile, and Colin understood that Nigel implicating him in that kind of talk would have been a glaring warning for you.
The incessant teasing, snide remarks, and rude comments were a grave misjudgment. How could he have treated you so poorly? How could he have treated anyone so poorly, for that matter? He had presented the most unbearable side of himself, sometimes descending into cruelty, all because he felt insecure. You had a valid reason for your hatred, and his behavior was nothing but a misguided attempt to mask his own insecurities.
What a complete mess.
“I’m sorry,” he said, resigned.
You shook your head quickly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I-I misunderstood and let that guide my actions. The fault is all mine.”
“Except it really isn’t, is it?” he said, reaching for your hand again, desperate to have contact with you again.
But you drew your hand back, too embarrassed that you had rushed to assume the worst so quickly. How differently the season would have gone if you hadn’t spent half the time trying to get under Colin’s skin.
“Either way, I’m so sorry,” you said, mortified as you saw just how much blood was on his face.
Colin had been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect you and your honor. And you had spent months thinking he was one of the men who had no respect for you. You shook your head in disbelief, chiding yourself for your headstrong ways.
“I’m sorry, too. You had a real reason to dislike me, and I was just being childish,” Colin said, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you anxiously bit your lip.
If he wasn’t caked in dried blood, he might have tried to kiss you right now. He knew it would probably hurt like the devil, given that his nose was most likely broken, but he would have been willing to endure that just to feel your lips on his. But he couldn’t do it. Colin could still taste the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he was in no state to be kissing anyone.
You nodded at Colin, fixing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Can we be friends now, then?” you asked, half-smiling. “And not just as a favor to Eloise.”
Instantly, Colin’s heart dropped. He scolded himself for thinking you could ever consider him as a suitor. It was a well-known fact that you were looking for a titled gentleman with a large fortune. And, as a third son, he had neither of those things.
“Yes, friends,” he smiled wide, not wanting to fracture the fragile peace he had been waiting for since the moment he met you.
Friends was alright. Colin could do friends. He’d take anything at this point.
But as you turned away from him to see Anthony rushing over to scold his brother for starting a fight in his home and nearly giving Kate a heart attack, Colin felt his smile falter.
Oh heavens, he really did love you.
—
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Still thinking about DadBod!Miguel………..
You loved your man unconditionally, that was a fact. But it was also a fact that he was a workaholic, and this bothered you like no other. He tried to be better about it since being with you, but the habit of staying for longer hours still persists.
You couldn’t complain all too much, though, since he did make some progress; how else would he have softened up a bit if not to come home to you earlier some days to eat you out your cooking?
Anyways, one time, it was late, he was home, but he was still in that goddamn study of his, and you were waiting impatiently in the bedroom for him.
“Baby…” you call out from the warm, fluffy sheets, “come to bed, please.” you plea, but alas, you’re response is a low, “casi terminado, beba.”
Typical.
You don’t know if it’s because of built up sexual frustration, your ovulation week, or both, but you get up from the bed and march yourself toward his study.
“Hey, mister, remember me? The love of your life?” You say almost jokingly, but you’re kind of serious at this point. You stand at the door, arms crossed.
Miguel looks up at you from his computer, and you can tell he’s tired. He’s already in his usual sleeping attire: nothing but basketball shorts, which doesn’t help the situation at all. The waistband hugs tightly around his pudge, displaying his delicious happy trail.
“M’sorry, mama, I’ll be there soon, m’kay? Almost done, promise.” But you’re not even completely listening because of how inviting his thick, muscular thighs look right about now. An idea pops into your head…
“That’s what you always say…” you walk into the study, catching Miguel’s attention once again when you stand next to him. You give his bicep a tap, a non-verbal request for him to scoot the seat back and turn to you, to which he obliged. He sees you pouting, which saddens him of course, he hates seeing his baby upset. He never does this to hurt or neglect you.
“Mamita, Que te pasa? Hm?” He coos while you sit on his lap, straddling and cuddling him as your smaller-in-comparison figure wraps around his taller, huskier build. You swear if you weren’t so horny, you’d be able to fall asleep right there against his soft, plushy, warm skin. Miguel embraces you back, pressing your front against his soft stomach and hard chest. He has a hand on your hip, the other on your lower back.
“Nothing, I just miss you…” you softly breathe against the skin of his neck, placing soft kisses there, “I miss my cuddle bear,” you speak between those kisses. You know your act is working when you feel a certain tent forming beneath you, your lips curling against his jawline.
Miguel kisses you back, his slow kisses planted along your shoulder, “I know, mama, I know,” he continues to plant apologetic pecks up your shoulder and up your neck, only riling you up even more, “I miss you, too, beba. ” he coos, pressing a kiss on your head as his gaze remains on his laptop. One of his hands continues to rub your back while the other travels from your hip to proceed typing on the laptop.
Miguel then hears you speak against the skin of his bare shoulder. It’s muffled, but he can make out a weak, “I need you.”
The typing stops.
“Perdon, mamita, what was that?” You let out a soft grunt, your hips fidgeting on top of his lap. Your heat rubbing against his bulge and lower belly gradually stealing his focus from his work. “You heard me, stop acting coyyy.” You shy away from the question with more kisses on his shoulder and neck but he persists, “dimelo, mama, que necesitas?”
His lips curl as you begin mewling quietly against his neck, your hips digging harder against his lap. “C’mon, baby, use your words.” His smirk widens when he hears a certain whimper; one he’s grown familiar with and knew what it meant.
Your breathiness tickles his ear in the most delectable way, letting out a measly, “I want — Mm…” You’re surprised to hear the typing begin again, thinking you were finally starting to take 100% of his attention.
“Whatchu want, hm? I’ll give it to you, just say it.” He gently pleads, the softness of his voice the greatest comfort in the world. He makes you feel so safe.
“Mm— I… I need you… Ungh— M’need you in me, Mig, pleaseeee.”
“You want what? Be specific, mamita, you can do it.” You kiss your teeth and roll your eyes, “Baby, you know what I’m talking about, stop being like that.”
“No, no, tell me, I wanna hear it from you. Love it when you say it… need to hear you say it…” he whispers.
You never were good at being vocal, but Miguel has changed that since being with him. The man needs to hear your sweet voice, it being absolute music to his ears. You were at your limit, so for this time, you put aside your timidity and grant him his wish.
“I want this fat cock, baby… so bad.”
You couldn’t stop whimpering due to his massive length stretching you out. You’d think you would have adapted to size by now, but given he has you sitting still on his lap, no room to maneuver, it figures.
“Mamita, stop moving, I’m almost done with this, I promise.” You know he’s having just as much of a hard time sitting still from how gravel his voice has become. Since making you cockwarm him, he’s barely accomplished any work on his computer, about to call it quits and just take you to bed to finish off what you started.
“You said that fifteen minutes agoooo.” You groan, your hips fighting against his hand, which holds you tight in position.
He quiets you with a kiss to the temple, “shh, beba, I’m giving you what you— mmfuck— what you wanted…” The way your cunt greedily sucks him in makes his mind foggy and his cock twitch inside you a number of times. In an effort to hush your noises of desperation, he leans back into his chair so that his face meets yours, practically eating your tongue in an open mouthed kiss. Amidst the heated kiss, he can feel a certain something taut against his belly. He makes the mistake of looking down when pulling away, seeing how his throbbing dick makes a faint bulge in your stomach. With this, your pussy constantly squeezing him, and your soft whimpers, there’s no way he’ll finish any work.
“Coño, you win.”
So he slams his computer, picks you up, basically runs toward the bed and throws you onto it so that he could rail you until you spoke fluent gibberish!
The end :3
A/n: inspired by an ask, Ty nonnie <3
#don’t worry#dad bod brain rot still persists#it’s as alive as ever#miguel o'hara#dadbod!miguel#atsv miguel#atsv#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x you#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara#miguel ohara#miguel x y/n#spider man 2099 x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x y/n#across the spiderverse#miguel fanfic#miguel fic#miguel smut#miguel imagine#miguel o'hara one shot#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel o'hara blurb#miguel atsv#miguel o’hara headcanon#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o’hara au
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.—001 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡ {𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐄𝐈}
one of TSUKISHIMA's university goals is to ruin the sassy student librarian and break all her rules; by the way, it's you
𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ f!reader, rivals to lovers, library sex, pussy eating, bantering (a repost from more than a year ago) PART ONE - TWO
University wasn’t easy especially when you also have library duties part-time and that one day with a classmate from Literature class made it even complicated.
Tsukishima Kei, a wallflower during lectures, handed you a book for return. You scanned the barcode. “Overdue, I didn’t see that from you.” He’s responsible, uptight and by-the-book. It seemed impossible.
Though you meant nothing, he didn’t feel quite right with your comment. “So what? Are you the librarian now?” He sharply replied, scanning the payment QR Code with his phone.
That just rubbed you the wrong way either. “Yes, I am.”
A smirk appeared on his face. “As far as I’m concerned,” he leaned forward over the desk and whispered mockingly, “You’re just a student assistant here.”
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath of patience. With a stiff smile, you professionally reverted back, “Your business is already finish now, Tsukishima-san. You may now go. If you wish to stay, I advise that you remain quiet before I ask you to leave the hall.”
Tsukishima just shot daggers at you, pinning you with his eyes before he turned around and went his own way.
Ha! The slight victory made you grin and gave you the confidence to add another greeting his way, “See you in class, Tsukishima-san.”
See you in class, indeed. After that encounter in the library, it was as if he suddenly became active in recitation. Tsukishima constantly opposed your views every time you shared them in class. It had been weeks, no, months since it was the case. You even heard your classmate picking their sides, placing their bets on who between you and Tsukishima would win the day’s lecture.
And everytime he’d visit the library, he’d return and borrow tons of books at the same time as if he was pissing you off. You were sure as hell that he was doing it on purpose and that he’s timing it perfectly to when you were the one in the desk duty.
You rolled your eyes. Just when you were thinking of how much he annoyed the shit out of you, you saw him reading a book in one of the long tables. Guess what? He grabbed a mountain pile of books. You wouldn’t be shocked if he would place that in the returning cart any moment now since you’re the one in the clearing duty.
You leered, intentionally choosing the aisle near his table and giving him a dirty side eye as you passed by him. You knew he picked that up and just as you predicted, he placed the piles of book in the cart right when you were about to push it off. There were only 2 books in there but when Tsukishima dumped his stuff, there were like about 8 now. Looking at the call numbers, the books were even shelved in the farthest back of the hall.
Asshole! You grimaced at him and he grinned evilly at you. Begrudgingly, you headed to the very last shelf where Tsukishima got his books. You placed some of them back in until you realized that most of what he picked were too high for you to reach.
“You need help?” Tsukishima said with a smug expression as he returned a book in his hand at the top shelf only he could reach.
“What are you doing here?” You snapped.
“Returning a book. I forgot to place it in the cart.” You scoffed and he added, “You would find it hard to shelf it anyway.” His lips etched in a mocking smile as he eyed the remaining books in your cart.
Scoffing, you kicked a ladder in front you. “I was just starting.” You picked up some of the books, stepped into the third level of the ladder and shelved them. Halfway though, you felt his eyes on you. Your gaze traveled to where he was looking and you noticed that your skirt rode up, revealing your garter belt.
“Pervert,” you reprimanded him and went down the ladder.
He immediately snapped away. “Who wears that in school?” Okay, he must admit it’s not the best comeback ever.
What? It’s not like you were wearing anything scandalous. It was just a simple pencil skirt and it’s unintentional that it rode up your thighs. “That doesn’t mean you should look, asshole.”
He huffed and rebutted, “As if there’s something to look at.”“Then why are you looking?” You said, walking past him and pushing a book back in the shelf harder than you intended.
You were surprised when you were grabbed by your elbow, pulling you away from the books that fell from above you.
“Careful,” he warned. Your gazes held each other. His eyes were now filled with concern. Genuine concern. You gulped as you heard your heart beat in your chest. You would be lying if you’d say his rebuttals in class made him less sexy. In fact, it made his snarky ass more attractive.
He scanned you from head to toe. Your clothes bothered him a lot, pulling off that sexy librarian look that never failed to give him fantasies every night.
“You only wear that kind of attire every Thursday.” He chided in as if catching you. In return, you stepped backward, feeling cornered by his height and inquisition.
“Why are you here only every Thursday?” You dared as he stepped forward closing you in. Your back hit the shelf as he towered over you. His eyes studied your pretty lashes and hopeful, needy, eyes. Yours probed his orbs, now showing vulnerability near your presence, losing control over his urges.
You wanted to push him away, but you also wanted him to pull you close. With how petty you acted around each other, he might just laugh at you in complete rejection. You poor little midget was actually attracted to him all this time. You’re hopeless and horny for him, it’s pathetic.
He was equally pathetic too. He couldn’t resist his bulging cock as he saw your lacy bra underneath that long-sleeved dress shirt you wore. And that sassy mouth of yours…the things he wanted to do whenever you open them to spit another off-handed comment his way. Fuck! Just fuck!
You were both breathing heavily and you noticed the way your chest rose and fell against him. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling heat in between. It was unbearable. You needed more. You couldn’t take it anymore and so was he when he smashed his lips against yours. Your mouth opened willingly and his tongue didn’t hesitate to explore. Your hand flew to his head, lacing your fingers around his strands. His hands roamed all over your body not getting enough of you.
He bit your lower-lip, smirking against it as he had been desiring to do that ever since you got into his head. You moaned and it gave him confidence to tease you, running a hand under your skirt and lightly tracing the edge of your stockings. He caressed your thigh and you leaned your head back as his fingers began reaching your pussy.
Tsukishima groaned. “You're so inappropriate.”
You moaned in a begging tone.
He smiled, disbelieving that the smartass Y/N whom he thought hated his guts with all her life was now begging him for more and that prompted all forms of logical reasoning to leave his brain.
He picked up a book from the clearing cart and pressed it against your pussy, rubbing the hard corner against where he thought your clit was to give you pleasure. “Oh, god…” You breathed out. It felt too good. You couldn’t help but hold his wrist with both of your hands, guiding him to the right pressure and tempo as you rocked your hips, using the book for stimulation.
“I never thought you love books this much.” He teased.
You scoffed. “What can I do? Mhmn~“ You panted. “This is all you got.”
A different surge of pride came over him after that sassy remark, which made him drop the book and had him on his knees. He pulled your skirt up and your panties down, inhaling deeply as he came face to face with your sopping wet cunt. His thumb massaged your slit before hooking your leg over his shoulder and digging in to eat you out.
Come to think of it, the signages said, Strictly No Eating, but it’s too late now. He was already overcome with lust and the taste of your delicious pussy so soft against his lips and tongue. He circled against your clit while sipping your arousal. You bit the back of your hand trying to cover your noises. Tsukki pictured the big Remain Quiet library sign in his head. Yes, he’s gonna have you break all the fucking library rules. He’d make sure you’d be making all sorts of noises in a while.
“Please…please..” You heaved, leaning your head back on the shelf as you grabbed a fistful of his strands and rode his face. His glasses now misty with the heat of your pussy and his breathing. His tongue started lapping rapidly.
You were losing your mind already and you could feel your orgasm approaching. Tsukki knew that, but he wasn’t done with you yet not until he's inches deep inside you and his dick was the only thing in your mind. The perfect payback for all the sleepless nights you gave him with nothing but desires on how your pussy would fucking feel, clenching him tight.
He pulled back and you whined a complain. You should’ve known he’d do this right when you were aching and desperate for him.
Cupping your cheek, he drew your lips in for a kiss. You melt like you were pleading more of him in your arms. Feeling his erection rubbing against your stomach, you broke the kiss and looked down at his pants. Involuntarily, you licked your lips at the sight of his hard-on. “Looks like you need a hand.”
—♡ send 💦 if you want to be tagged in PART 2
⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝
© nekorei 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.
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