#before he gets a place idk where he will bathe

[venomvalley]

FEED ME!

PART I: NOODLE SOUP ↬ sevika x pregnant!reader | 5.4k words

SUMMARY:

Sevika rescues a pregnant stray from the streets of the Undercity as her good deed for the decade, but plans go awry when she starts to enjoy the companionship, and her entire lone-wolf worldview comes crashing down. The kicker? Her stray is very much human, and the circumstances of your condition create a whole new set of challenges—challenges best solved with good, old-fashioned murder.

TAGS: 18+! pregnancy fic, mentions of past rape, protective!sevika (she's still a bitch though i love her)

NOTES: i have no idea if people will even like this but i had fun writing it so theres that. never been interested in pregnancy fics, but i just needed protective sevika in my life idk. btw the actual rape is only briefly mentioned in passing. no descriptions whatsoever

-> READ ON AO3 | FEED ME! MASTERLIST

Sevika is having a shit day.

Well. Shittier than usual.

The sole of her boot broke off this morning, Silco's contact never showed up at the docks, and her favorite food place was closed by the time she passed through the Lanes. And to make matters worse, it started raining. Not only is she tired and hungry, but now she's soaked through to the bone.

So when she cuts through an alley to shave off a few minutes of travel on the way home, she really isn't in the mood for the voice that calls out to her. Beggars are a cog a-fucking-dozen in the Lanes, and she ignores them on instinct. There are worse things in the shadows that know her name, after all.

But for some reason, she decides to take the bait tonight. Turns back to look at the ground then stills at the sight of you, bathed in the neon lights of the city’s beating heart. There's no hiding the roundness of your stomach beneath your shirt, or the gauntness of your cheeks. Clothes dirty, hair unwashed, as if you were thrown out on the street like an unwanted stray.

The state of you makes her sick to her stomach. Angry at the world. For a brief moment, she remembers what—who—she fights for: the little people like you that often fade into the background. The chaos of the chem-barons and the Enforcers sniffing around tend to take center stage.

“I'm sorry for bothering you, but do you have any food?” Your voice comes out weak and raspy, desperation splitting each syllable at the seams. “I don't want money, I just—I'm starving and nobody will help me.”

Sevika nods toward the swell of your belly, so round it looks painful. “Where's the dad?”

You inhale a shaky breath, face twisting up in a pained grimace before hardening back to neutral stone. “I don't know. Don't even know who he is, actually, but I—I didn't ask for this. I swear, I'm responsible. I would never—fuck, it doesn't even matter. I'm sorry.”

She wonders how many times you've plead your case to passersby in an attempt to convince them to save you. How many actually believed your story.

But there’s no faking that grieving look in your eye, and the implication of how you ended up here changes things.

There are very few situations in this world that affect Sevika, but injustice pains her most. She’s seen the worst of this city a million times over, has contributed to the chaos in ways she isn't proud of, but she still holds a place in her heart for the people who got the shit end of the stick. People like you, and the kids starving in the streets, and everybody else cursed enough to be born in the hell she calls home.

“Get up,” she says, a bit more gruff than she means to, and your eyes widen in fear. You curl in on yourself as tightly as you can, arms folded over your belly. “You want food or not?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she regrets it. A disaster waiting to happen, appeasing a walking liability. There’s a reason why she doesn't bother with attachments or relationships outside of work and gambling.

But then you struggle to your feet, fighting gravity as you clutch at the brick wall for leverage, and she holds out a hand to steady you.

Her first mistake.

You grasp her fingers and gaze at her with eyes that gleam, like an outstretched hand is your first ever taste of tenderness.

(It probably is. Nothing surprises her anymore.)

As she leads you through the crowded streets, you turn into a skittish thing, eyes darting over the crowd, clinging a bit too hard to her wrist. When you step on the back of her boot, it only takes one venomous glare for you to keep your distance until you reach your destination: a hole-in-the-wall noodle shop. Big portions for cheap, in exchange for shit service and mediocre food. The only place open besides bars this late, and she wouldn't dare drag you into one of those.

She corrals you over to an empty table and pulls out the seat against the back wall for you to take. You glance around a moment, flinching at the slam of the front door, before easing yourself down into the chair, a hand protective over your stomach.

She wonders why. Why you’d care so much about something borne from an awful situation. It doesn’t make any sense.

The waitress strolls up to the table with two paper menus, eyes landing on her with a sultry smile. “Well, well, well. Sevika. Haven’t seen you around in a while.” The waitress—Zaya, maybe? her face seems familiar—looks you up and down with a curl of her upper lip. “Seems you caught yourself a stray.”

You bow your head at the comment, soothing over the mess of your hair in an attempt to make yourself more presentable. Sevika shouldn’t care as much as she does, but you’re just… pitiful. Pathetic, if she wants a more apt, less kind term to use.

“Something like that.” Beneath the table, her metal hand tightens into a fist, irritation burning hot inside her chest. Not in the mood for bullshitting. “I want my usual.” She glances over at you. “Double order.”

The waitress stands around for a long moment in an effort to strike up conversation, but Sevika pays her no mind, fully interested in the scratch marks on the table. Eventually, she leaves with a frustrated huff.

A long silence passes between the two of you. She isn't about to engage in small talk, and you look ready to burst into tears. Fine by her. Conversation was never her strong suit anyway.

You look up at her, then away, then back, a focused furrow to your brow. She opens her mouth to snap at you—*say what you want to say—*but you speak first.

“I know you. Well, of you,” you say, voice so quiet she almost can’t hear you over the white noise of the restaurant. “You’re popular.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

You heave a tired sigh, palm drawing rhythmic circles over your belly. “I don’t have any way to repay you.”

“No shit. That's the whole point.”

“I’ve heard this place is expensive.”

Sevika snorts. “This is the cheapest food in the Lanes.” Her eyes dart down to your stomach, visible just over the lip of the table. “One bowl can feed two people.”

You fall silent, avoiding her gaze to instead stare a hole through the wall near her head. “Thank you.”

A different waitress drops off the food (good fucking riddance, Zara), and you immediately tuck into your bowl, inhaling the noodles like you haven't eaten in weeks, dripping sauce all over your area of the table.

After you almost choke on a too-large bite, Sevika rips the bowl away from you with a growl of irritation. “Slow down. You're making a mess.”

You blink at her in surprise, eyes wide and misty, and grab a nearby napkin to clean your face then mop up your splattering of sauce. “Sorry. I’m just hungry.”

“You still have manners, don't you?” Despite the bite of her words, she takes pains to slide the bowl slowly across the table.

Sevika doesn’t know how to be soft. Never really had the patience, the capacity for it. She doesn't surround herself with people like you who require a tender hand. The kind of people who fear their own shadow.

She should get up, pay the tab, and leave. She did her good deed for the decade. She doesn't owe you anything.

But she can't will her legs to move. Thinks, instead, of you waddling back to that alleyway, of the pouring rain, of someone a lot more cruel than her stumbling upon your defenseless form in the middle of the night.

This is exactly what her old man used to warn her about: the inconvenience of companionship. One big distraction designed to veer her away from the end goal.

And yet—

you sit back in your chair with a content smile, shoulders relaxing from their spot beside your ears, and you look at her like she hangs the stars in your sky

—she doesn't move.

“Feel better?” she asks, elbow balanced atop the table as she adjusts her weight in her seat. She doesn't fidget, but the reverent look you aim her way gets her the closest she's ever been in her life.

Nothing good ever follows me. Get out while you still can.

You nod. “Yeah, but I think I ate too much.”

She glances down at your bowl. You licked it clean.

A wave of pride swells within her at the sight of you: eyelids already drooping, hands curling your jacket tighter around your shoulders. If you could, you'd no doubt be purring.

Cute.

Her face twists into a scowl, silently shooing away the thought as she rises to her feet, and you stumble in an effort to follow her.

“Are you—” you pause, hands clasping tight over your chest. “Do you know anywhere I can stay? At least to get out of the rain tonight?”

Sevika’s eyes narrow, gaze inspecting the features of your face for any hint of… she doesn't know, really. Manipulation, dishonesty maybe. But all that stares back at her is a woman with one big baby-sized responsibility and no means to care for it. You're scared shitless. There's no faking that.

Damn. Looks like she's got herself a stray for the night.

“Come on,” she grumbles, curling a hand around your upper arm.

She pays at the counter, your presence hovering just behind her elbow, and ignores the goodbyes from staff as she leads you out the front door.

“Where are we going?” you ask, a bit breathless from the speed of your walk in an attempt to catch up to her.

Fuck, she just wants to go home.

“My place. Just for tonight.”

You nod your head, reaching again for the comfort of her wrist, and she lets you. Too exhausted to argue.

The walk to her apartment takes longer than usual, your stride stilted from the bulk of your belly, fatigue weakening your legs.

Sevika's never really thought much about where she lives in regards to safety, but the shadows swallow the darkness tonight with you in tow. The locals know not to fuck with her, but they don't know you, and they leer in a way that makes her hackles raise.

She tugs you closer when a burly man steps off the stoop of his house, calling out to her.

“Whatcha got there, big girl?”

“Your head in a box if you don't fuck off.” A matter-of-fact statement. A promise.

He laughs, high-pitched and nervous, arms raised in placation. “Alright, alright, I hear ya. Not in the mood for jokes.”

She stops in her tracks and squares her shoulders, ignoring your quiet oof as you collide with her back. Because no, she's really not in the mood for jokes.

The man fidgets in place a moment as if weighing his options, before he backs away to the front door of his home. “Alright. I'll be seeing you.”

When the front door closes, she releases her hold on your arm and begins walking again.

“Who was that?” you whisper, fingers trembling as they reattach to her wrist.

“Nobody. Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, you're first inside her apartment, shivering from the chill of the rain. You look around the barebones living room—a broken-down couch, a scuffed chair in the corner, various tools scattered over the coffee table. Very little in regards to decoration.

Sevika doesn't like coming home. The emptiness tends to swallow her whole. Nothing waiting for her but an empty bed and the sprawl of silence.

“You need a shower,” she says, discarding her cloak over the back of the couch.

“I don't have any clothes.”

“I know.”

She just wants to sleep. Would rather not be dealing with this when a busy day looms ahead, but she couldn't just leave you there. A decision that goes against every cell in her body, every lesson she learned in her youth, but she couldn’t.

She just couldn’t.

She fetches you a worn shirt and a pair of boxer briefs then shows you to the bathroom, and you whisper your thanks as she tosses a spare towel on the sink.

You stay in there a while, and she passes the time by tinkering with her prosthetic.

Finally, the door swings open and you walk out, dirty clothes bundled under your arm.

“I finally feel like a person again.” You tug down the hem of her your shirt, fabric stretched over your belly. “Thank you.”

She grunts in response, and you take a seat across from her at the kitchen table, head tilting as you watch her work. You don't say anything. Just follow the movement of her hands.

The next time she looks up, your cheek rests on your folded arms atop the table, eyes closed, shoulders rising with each breath you inhale.

Asleep. Poor, helpless thing.

She considers leaving you there, doesn't want to bother with setting you up on the couch, but her legs are already moving before she makes a decision either way.

Carrying you is difficult given the bulk of your stomach. She holds you like a thing made to be broken, soft and careful, the cold metal of her prosthetic cradling your neck, her other arm beneath the bend of your knees. Walks slow to keep from waking you, enraptured by the rapid-fire expressions that flicker over your face. Anger, pain, sadness, anger, fear, fear, fear—

Must be a horrible dream.

She lays you down on the couch then covers you with a threadbare blanket found in the back of her closet. Takes a seat on the coffee table and thinks about what the fuck she’s going to do with you.

You can’t stay here, but she can’t let you live on the street either. So there’s the issue of finding someone to house you, but she can count the people she trusts on one hand (with five fingers left over). The shelters are already full-up, and under zero circumstances will she go to Silco for help.

She finds herself in a mess of her own fucking creation.

You roll onto your side with a dreamy groan, hand ghosting over your belly in your sleep. She wonders if you even want the kid. If you spend your days grieving a life you’ll never get to have because there's no other option.

Sevika doesn’t remember much of her own mom. Died when she was young giving birth to a little brother that failed to survive through the night—a waste in her eyes. That was her first brush with grief, the foundation of beliefs that her old man raised her with: the harsh life of the Undercity holds no room for love, or compassion, or attachment.

If the Enforcers had called for a doctor like they were supposed to, her mom might still be alive. But she doesn’t like to dwell on the past, on what-ifs. No damn point in it.

She pulls out a cigarette in hopes that the smoke will drown out the memories. Looks over at your sleeping form. Looks down at the cigarette. Heaves a frustrated sigh then puts it back in its metal case.

You're an inconvenient little thing. A stray with too many stipulations. No more than a headache.

(If she adjusts the blanket to cover up your cold, bare feet on her way out the front door, nobody has to know.)

The next morning, you’re half-asleep on the couch when she approaches you, arms stretched overhead, mouth opened wide in a yawn.

“Listen up.” She takes a seat on the coffee table, resting both elbows on her knees. “I’ll be gone for a few days, so if you’re staying here, we need to go over some ground rules.”

You snap to attention, face bright as the sun, scrambling to sit up. “Staying here? Really?”

“If you follow the rules.”

“Yeah! Yes, I—“ your brows tilt upwards, tone turning desperate, “whatever you want, I’ll do it. I swear.”

A part of her—the space reserved for optimism collecting cobwebs—almost believes you.

She holds up a finger. “Don't touch anything that isn't yours.” Another. “Don't go out at night, and when you do go out, don’t talk to anybody.” Another. “Don't answer the damn door, not even for me.” You nod along, enraptured gaze glued to hers. “You got all that?”

“Yes, ma'am.” At her raised brow, you stammer, “I—uh, sorry, I just… don't know what you want me to call you.”

“… My name.”

“Sevika.” She nods. “Okay. Then, thank you, Sevika. I mean it. You saved my life.”

With a roll of her eyes, she rises to her feet. “Yeah, I'm a real hero.”

“You are, though.”

She doesn't like this. The way you look at her all awestruck and worshipping. Doesn’t deserve it when there are people out there who would treat you much better than her—people who would actually care about you and the kid in the long run. If you're dead-set on keeping it, then it deserves the chance to grow up right. Loved.

Eight hours ago, she strongly considered leaving you in the street, starving and pregnant. So no, she’s not a hero. And she’s fine with that. Her path in life is a different, less savory one.

“There’s money in the kitchen for food,” she says. “Use my bed if you want.”

And then she leaves.

.

.

.

Truth be told, Sevika doesn't expect to see you when she gets home from a week-long binge of violence and booze, bruised all to hell, a headache splitting her skull down the middle. The edges of her temper sanded down to something less volatile.

Once she walked out the front door that morning, she stopped thinking about you. Brushed you off as a fluke, a mistake of lowered inhibitions.

(She thought about you a lot. Wondered if you were staying smart, being careful. If you actually used the money she left behind. If you were even alive. But she would rather die than admit the worry—no, no, Sevika doesn't worry—that fleetingly consumed her.)

You stand in the kitchen, bent over at the waist with an elbow propped on the counter, rubbing circles into your lower back. Bare from the waist down, the hem of your shirt does little to cover the swell of your ass—the little slice of heaven between your thighs, bathed in shadow from the poor lighting in her apartment.

Her fingers itch for a cigarette. She’s finally gone insane.

The room smells like a filling meal, everything left in its original place. Nothing unusual aside from the weight of your presence, and something warm settles in her stomach, heavy as a rock, so unfamiliar it makes her nauseous.

She chooses to ignore it.

“Get into trouble while I was gone?”

You jolt at the sound of her voice, righting yourself with a gasp when you spot her standing at the back of the couch. “Sevika, you're back!” Why do you almost sound relieved? Why do you smile at her? “And no, I…” you nod to the stove where a metal pot sits on the front burner, “I tried to make some soup, but I don't know how good it'll be.”

She walks over to you, boots heavy on the floor, and lifts the lid. Side-steps the wafting steam. “Smells good at least.”

“My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up. It has rice and fish, so it's filling.”

The simple suggestion of a home-cooked meal makes her mouth water, especially made by someone that isn’t her, and she’s eaten much worse in her lifetime. Could never afford to be picky.

Exhaling a long breath, you reach down to once again rub at the small of your back, shifting on your feet. The only sign of discomfort aside from the pinch in your brow.

She huffs, nudging you out of the way. “Sit down. I'll finish up.”

“You don't have to—”

“Kid's giving you trouble. I got it.”

You blink up at her, a relieved smile stretching your mouth, eyes curving into crescents. It's… cute. “Thank you.”

Unfortunately, she soon learns that the soup is more of a porridge, thickened up by the starch in the rice, the fish rubbery from cooking too long.

Well. At least you tried.

She fetches two bowls from the cabinet and notices a stack of dishes that weren’t there when she left. The sink is also empty, as clean as you could manage given all the rust.

Maybe there are some perks to keeping you around.

She calls you over to the kitchen table, and you take the seat across from her with a tired groan. Thank her when she sits a steaming bowl and spoon in front of you.

Sevika always eats alone when she’s home. It’s been that way for as long as she can remember. Rarely ever a choice on her part because she never got the hang of making friends (too unapproachable, people used to say), so your presence is odd, settles wrong inside her gut.

“You’re hurt,” you say around a mouthful of food, and she looks up from her meal to find you squinting at her, head tilted.

“I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It wasn’t supposed to.”

You pout over the metal of your spoon, brows twitching, but say nothing in response.

However, something nags at her.

“So. Do I wanna know why you're not wearing underwear?”

Your mouth flattens into a thin line, embarrassment scrunching up your nose. “Sorry. It just… it's a pregnancy thing, I guess? I get sensitive sometimes. If you know what I mean.”

Her imagination does a good job of filling in the blanks. Thoughts that she never wanted to have about you.

“And that's a bad thing.” More statement than question, her own assumption given your discomfort.

“Good until it turns bad. Really convenient for, uh, certain activities.” You shift your gaze to your bowl of soup, a wide grin rounding out your cheeks.

“Not in my bed, I hope.”

She really, really hopes you didn't fuck yourself in her bed. Doesn't feel like washing the damn sheets.

“I couldn't if I wanted to. Haven't seen my own feet in over a month.” The tone of your voice implies that you do want to, that you've thought about it recently. “No, the uh… the girls at The Rose took me in for a while. One of ‘em was a mom, too, and I guess she felt bad for me. Hormones being a bitch and all.” You shrug, pointedly ignoring her stare. “I prefer women anyway.”

Sevika only briefly considers the revelation in regards to herself, or the fact that you lived in a whorehouse for a brief stint of time, because a more sinister implication rears its ugly head:

You prefer women. You're pregnant by a man with, in your own words, a baby you didn’t ask for.

She already clocked the circumstances the night she found you, but now she knows for sure. And she's furious.

“I'll fucking kill him.” A promise hissed under her breath.

There's no reason for her to get involved, to stick her nose where it doesn't belong, but she can't sit back and do nothing while that bastard walks free.

Your head snaps up, confusion twisting at your brow. Her eyes lock onto yours, unblinking, and whatever you see in her face makes you frown.

Softly, overcome by grief, you say, “He's not your responsibility.”

“This is my city. I don't want a monster like him living in it.”

Your drop your spoon in your bowl with a sharp clatter, turning away from her. “I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have said so much.”

Sevika leans forward, elbows folded on the table, half-eaten soup already forgotten. She's lost her appetite anyway.

“So he did hurt you.”

You don't answer for a long while, worrying a hand over the curve of your neck, eyes darting over the pattern of her floor.

Until you nod your head.

She stands up from the table with her bowl then empties its contents into the nearby trashcan. Can't bear the sight of you anymore, sitting so pitifully in her chair, thumb following the curve of your belly.

“I'll take care of it.”

You know by now that there's no point in trying to change her mind.

.

.

.

Her sheets smell like you—the first thing she notices when she finally crawls into bed, shoving her face into the pillow with a frustrated growl. She inhales. Curses herself on the exhale. Inhales again because she's lost her fucking mind.

She ends the dilemma by ripping off her pillowcase and throwing it to a shadowed corner of the room. Still, everything smells like you. Not even in the damn room, and your presence haunts her.

This is getting ridiculous.

Her fingers twitch, craving a cigarette or a blunt or cigar or anything to distract her from the hem of her pants. She won't do that to you—use your smile or your smell or the curve of your ass to get herself off. Not after what she learned just a few hours prior.

But she considers it for longer than she has any right to, and for the first time in forever, guilt curdles sour in her gut.

.

.

.

In order to find out the identity of your rapist (just thinking of the word brings acid to the back of her throat), Sevika comes up with an idea. One of her best.

She plops down on the cushion next to you and takes the book from your hands to get your attention.

You scoff, open your mouth in protest. “What are you—”

“We're going to the Lanes tomorrow.”

At her direct approach, you blink, adjusting the blanket over your lap. “Okay? Why?”

“There's a vendor showcase. I need to buy some things.” A bold-faced lie, and you seem to pick up on it, eyes narrowing in suspicion. She sighs, adds, “I'll buy you something pretty.”

She needs to get you into a crowd because she knows how criminals work. If he sees you, he’ll make himself known one way or another. Wouldn't pass up the opportunity of rubbing what he did in your face.

The hardest part of this little plan will be banking on him actually showing up, but most of the Undercity flocks to the showcase to buy products on discount before the year’s end. The perfect opportunity.

You search her face for… something. An ulterior motive, maybe—one she doesn't have—before sighing. “Okay.”

The next evening, she drags you by the scruff to the bustling hub of the Lanes, streets lined with pop-up markets and food carts, people celebrating and shouting and haggling prices. Your hand remains firm around hers, a neccessity given the thick of the crowd.

Everything is fine at first. She parts the sea of people to allow you through without issue, biting her tongue when you stop at each stall to see what’s on offer. Handmade clothes, street food, jewelry that she only glances at. She forces down her frustration when you take too long sorting through necklaces—if a bit enamored with the way you hold each of them up to your face, thumbing over the chain and the gems and the crystals.

You look up at her with a toothy smile, eyes outshining the fake diamonds in your hand, and her heart stops. Something sickly-sweet weaves through her ribs, squeezes so tight that she almost chokes on it.

Affection.

This isn't good. Her worst fear realized. Every atom in her body screams for her to run far away, to wipe you from her memory, to stay lonely and sad and safe.

Instead, she throws the necklace you chose back into the display and picks up one you looked over previously—the only necklace at the booth with real gems.

“This one is better,” she says, offering it to you for inspection.

“Yeah. This would’ve been my second choice.”

She nods. Pays the vendor despite your very vocal protests then helps you secure the clasp at the nape of your neck. Your skin brushes against her knuckles, soft and warm. A sharp contrast to the callouses that litter her palms and fingers. (And still, you always hold her hand.)

Too intimate. She knows better than this.

Until you spin around and rush her with a tight hug, the swell of your belly pressing against hers, your arms solid around her waist.

She's gonna be sick. Should push you off, lecture you about personal space and boundaries, but she thinks about her mom dying alone on some cold floor in the middle of the night, and she thinks about your smile, and nothing seems to matter much anymore.

She lets you hug her until you're satisfied, and you step away with a quiet, “Thank you, Sevika,” and she almost throws up right there in the street.

And then the night goes to shit.

One moment, you're strolling beside her, babbling about the ingredients of some dish you hate, and the next has you stiffening up, breath heaving in an instant, your fingers winding so tight around her hand that her joints creak.

She looks down at you, finds you wide-eyed, staring at something off in the distance with such abject horror that she puffs up on instinct.

“No no nonono, that's him.” You duck behind her, face fitting between her shoulder blades. “Oh, fuck, we have to go. Please, we gotta go.”

She knows who you're talking about. Who he is. No mistaking your reaction, the way you shake and sob against her back.

A lightning strike of fury consumes her.

“Where?” she hisses, twisting around to look at you. Your mouth opens and closes, fighting to make words, and you duck away from the touch of her hand on your shoulder. “Show me.”

You shake your head so fast your neck threatens to snap, both hands circling tight around her wrist, and you tug at her until you're rocking back on your heels. “Please don't. Please. I just wanna go.”

But fate smiles on her as she looks through the bustling crowd. Only one man acknowledges your existence, tucked behind a food stand on the corner of the street. He thinks he’s subtle about glancing over at you, a predatory glint to his gaze that she wants to gouge out.

As luck would have it, she knows him. Some bottom-of-the-barrel lackey for Smeech that often passes through The Last Drop, so disposable she doesn't even know his name.

Her feet move before she even realizes it, vision tunneling to the pinpoint of his cackling face as he smacks at the man beside him.

“Sevika!”

At the sound of your scream, she stops. Looks over her shoulder to where you search in a panic, shuffling on your feet, the crowd already closing in, jostling you in place.

Fuck. Fuck.

Leaving with you means disobeying the very foundation of who she is, nurtured into a brick wall weapon. She never backs down from a fight, but she can't leave you behind, either. Not like this—inconsolable, barely coherent to the world around you.

She shoves through the throng of people, the scowl on her face swearing murder to anybody who dares to even look at her wrong. She wants blood, wants to cut her teeth on something soft and vital. Craves it so bad that her hands go numb.

Those same hands take you by the arms, ushering you into a nearby alley, away from the chaos of the crowd.

She doesn't comfort people. Has no fucking clue how to calm you down aside from a stilted pat to the back. “Hey. You’re alright.”

You sag against her with a relieved sob, begging her not to leave you again. Begging her to take you home.

Home. Her apartment, rundown and small and shitty, is home to you.

It takes less than a second to make her decision, and she ushers you away from the market.

Fine. The bastard can live another day. She'll ask around the Lanes, catch him by surprise when you're not around to stop her because she knows him, and by the time she's done, there won't even be a body left to burn.

She makes it a promise.

TAG LIST: @thesevi0lentdelights @iamastar @ryoiii @tiyawnyana @muclunga (only doing this the one time cause i hate tag lists hfjkdfhgfjkd)

[oatmealthighs]

-`♡´- plug!eren x blackfem!reader

ᯓᰔ contents: nsfw 18+, MDNI. reader indulges 🍃, eren is overprotective, public sex, maybe semi public? idk. daddy/mama usage. might be some slightly toxic dynamics. but nothing too serious. rushed ending cus i suck at endings 💔 a sequel full of fluff will be coming soon out of this.

ᯓᰔ author's note: omg i haven't posted in like months. but anyways what would i be without dropping the token plug!eren drabble. nothing too crazy, just some bathroom sex. also there are instances where there are texts but i got too lazy and didn't bother making texts out of them mwahahahaaa sorry in advance. this is barely proofread and not my best so if there are mistakes i am sorry. requests are open! also look out for a tengen x reader x wives fic coming really soon. like this week soon

the feeling of your phone buzzing in the back pocket of your true religion jeans whisked your attention away from the pearled blunt you had pinched between your fingers.

your glossy lips curled into a little smirk, your acrylics clicking at the keyboard of your screen.

you've been pushing eren's cute lil buttons all night. honestly all day... but you didn't feel bad for making him sweat. he's been trying you as of late.

you and eren were supposed to be spending some quality time together last night, and he was specifically supposed to be over your place by no later than 8:00. you had the whole shabang... bath and body works candle burning out, led lights on and set to the color purple, some of his favorite snacks and some dinner and dessert you had wrapped up for him that you had made earlier. you were planning on watching a show with him, giving him a scalp massage while he played his playstation that he always brought whenever he came over, and give him the best head he's ever received that night before riding him into the sunset, but all those plans went soiled. 8:00 came, and on the dot he had sent a text message about him having to go make a few more drop offs, then he'd come to you. 8 turned to 9, then 10:30, then 1... fucking... AM.

was it fucked up you didn't answer the door when he came knocking finally? kinda, but the guilt didn't last long when you thought about how he practically stood you up.

eren was a popular plug on the university you attended. you knew friday is usually the day that people were trying to cop, given it was majority people's payday and the weekend, but you were hoping that he would close up shop early just this one time for you. his clientele would live-- there were plugs by the dozen on campus. but eren knew wasn't none of them fucking with his shit. you weren't sure what other outcome you were expecting. he never turned his head away from possible income.

eren already knew he fucked up, but he knew ultimately in the end it was going to be worth it. the extra money was going to go into play towards his proposal to ask you to be his girlfriend, and no amount of your anger was going to get that out of him. he was prepared to keep his mouth shut, throw away the key, and take his lashings like a man. so when he was met with radio silence, he was flabbergasted.

when he pulled up to your crib and didn't get an answer from him knocking on your door and calling your phone, he figured you fell asleep and resulted in retreating to his abode. the next morning, when he woke up to find that you didn't respond to his apology texts from last night, it made him sit up in his bed and squint at his phone with crust-ridden eyes.

no response? it was so unlike you. usually you would respond with a barrage of text messages stating your feelings, or at the very least he'd get a passive-aggressive dry text from you. but to be met with nothing at all made his gut twist in a disgustingly vexing way.

he rubs at his temples, sending you a "good morning baby" text before opening the safari app and going to the local floral shop's delivery site.

later that afternoon, eren's sitting in his blacked out durango when he receives email confirmation that the flowers have been delivered, the low hum of the strong engine the only thing somewhat soothing his frazzled nerves. he made sure to get your favorite, and tried to ask them to incorporate your favorite color as much as possible.

he checks your location as he hits his blunt, releasing the smoke from his mouth and inhaling it through his nostrils. he already knows your home, having your schedule downpack. and you were. so why didn't you say anything about the flowers? did you not like them? he sends you a text, saying, "i sent you some flowers," staring at the screen and awaiting your response.

yess, you know he sent you flowers, and you loved them. you had gasped when you found them on your porch, bright and vibrant in color and smelling so freshly sweet. you had already cut the stems and put them in some warm water in a lovely vase. you almost wanted to text eren, to tell him how much you loved them and thank you, but the strong annoyance you had from last night still lingered. with a twist of your lips you disregarded your phone on the kitchen counter, humming a tune as you moved about the kitchen to prepare you a nice lunch.

eren releases a defeated sigh as he puts his jay out, not even in the mood to smoke anymore. mopily, he clicks off his phone, shifting his gear to drive to make more plays.

he spends the rest of the day pondering ways to possibly pull a conversation from you, and a lightbulb flickers in his head when he recalls you saying you were running low on weed. eren always gives you gas free of charge, one of the special privileges that comes with being his favorite girl. he opens his phone to text you again.

doechii's expressive voice flows through your speaker at a volume level most would call excessive. but you didn't care. anything to drown out the annoying pensive thoughts of eren's sexy little face. "i ain't a killer but don't push me, don't wanna have to turn a nigga guts into SOUP BEANS!" no, really, doechii.

your phone vibrates on your vanity as you rummage through your closet for a cute outfit to wear tonight, striding over to your phone with nimbleness. you figured it'd be hitch, since you and her were accompanying each other to the kickback tonight and she was asking either what time you wanted to go or what you were wearing. your hypothesis was proven incorrect when you saw eren's name on your notification wall instead. just him asking if you wanted to him to drop off some more weed for you.

your heart twinged ever-so-softly at the thought of you ignoring your baby. you missed him. it was embarrassing to say this was the longest you went without talking to him. but how would he know you were serious if you just gave in now?

you wanted to respond and tell him you were cool. hitch was bringing the weed tonight. but you refrained, if anything that would get him all the more riled up. eren doesn't like you smoking others weed, his reasoning being he doesn't "trust their product." he was so sexy when he was protective. you remember when you told him you copped from someone else when he had to go off campus for a little bit to see his family, and he spent a half hour inspecting it on the scale with his phone flashlight.

eren let out an irritated growl after constantly checking his phone for 10 minutes, still no reply from you in his notifications. he wanted to tell you you were dragging it, but he knew you weren't. you had every right to be pissed with him given he had promised you this quality time and swore he would make time for you. you were never a stickler for too much attention, but with eren always on the run it was easy for him to neglect you. he's been getting better at it though. until last night.

connie's name flashes across eren's phone screen. he slides the answer button right and lets his car sync the call to the radio. "yo."

"what's good, man. you coming to the kickback tonight? it's gonna be at jean's place." eren rolls his neck until he hears it pop. he knows you'll be there.

"yeah, i might come. today's been slow. don't got nothin' else to do."

"damn, i know that voice. what'd you do this time?"

eren weakly chuckles at connie's intuition. "what can i say, business was booming like crazy last night. we were supposed to hang out but my phone just kept ringing."

connie let out a long sigh over the line. "typical eren, never knows when to close shop." he pauses. "you know you're the asshole, right?"

"yeah," eren groans, shutting his car off and putting his phone on speaker. "i know. i plan on making it up to her."

"yeah, how? surely not with some weed and dick." connie snorts. "[name]'s a nice girl, you plan on locking it down with her anytime soon? i see the way floch be looking at her."

"he wouldn't dare," eren denies, the simple thought of it just making his eye twitch. while you and eren weren't official, basically everyone in the friend group and the vicinity knew y'all were on each other bad. but some assholes just didn't respect boundaries. he noticed floch's gaze would linger on you a little longer than he deemed appropriate. how they would trail your body. he noticed the way his cheeks would blush when you would speak to him in passing or make small talk.

"i dunno, man," connie instigated, smugness in his voice. "but, bring a quarter with you. it's on me, i'm gonna zelle you."

"just send me $50." eren and connie exchange a few last words before they end the call, leaving eren in silence as he stares at the gray wall of the parking garage he was parked in. he didn't know what he was gonna do about you.

eren always tended to look the sexiest when you were mad at him, or he was upset with you. he always would wear his hair down, taupe tresses brushing his broad shoulders. he'd always wear a black tee and some baggy sweatpants that always had you imagining what it was he had underneath. it was nothing you haven't seen, but it was always a pleasant surprise.

you felt your defiance wavering when he and all is glory walked in to jean's house, high as fuck. you swore you could smell his ysl cologne from across the room.

"you okay girl?" sasha questions, her eyebrows pinching in concern as she leans into your eyesight. you blink your mascara coated lashes, giving her a smile.

"yeah, my man just walked in. he always looks so good when im pissed at him."

"it's a trap. don't fall for it." hitch scoffs, her hazel eyes trained on the blunt she was busy rolling. her thighs were squeezed together to keep her carebear rolling tray in place. "don't even look his direction."

"i forget hitch is such a hard-ass. how does marlo manage," ymir jokes. historia chuckles, her head resting against her girlfriend's broad shoulder.

as their conversation goes on, your eyes can't help but find eren again through the decent amount of people crowding the bottom floor of the house, watching him interact with connie and hand him a bag of what you assumed to be cannabis. his turquoise eyes cut across the room, and you know he's looking for you. you look away before any eye contact can happen. when you feel eyes burn into your skin, you know he spots you.

the night involves you acting as if he doesn't exist, keeping your back turned and acting like you're too busy to acknowledge your phone notifications. when you finally light the blunt hitch pearled, you know eren texts you asking where did you get that. you chuckle to yourself as your thoughts were confirmed when you snuck a peek at your phone.

eren feels anger welling in his body as he watches you from a safe distance, lounging against the wall and his eyes never leaving you. you knew what you were doing at this point. wearing them jeans that made your ass sit so perfect and a crop top that teased at your skin and your belly button piercing. your hair was in curls, and your glittery lip gloss shone in the low light of the room. he knew you probably had on his favorite perfume too. that vanilla one he loved so much.

"just go talk to her dude," connie yells over the aggravatingly loud jersey mixed song that was booming through the surround sound, his words slightly slurred from the drink he's been sipping on. eren furrows his thick brows as he hits his spliff, watching the tip burn bright orange as he shuts his eyes for a moment. "and you better hurry. i think tonight's the night floch makes his move."

"connie, shut the fuck up." eren's tone is firm and warning as he feels the vein in his neck rising to the surface of his skin. he finally opens his eyes, glancing at you, and what he sees makes his stomach cave and everything around him turn red.

floch, with his ugly fucking haircut and that ugly dangling earring had the audacity to be all up in your glory, smiling sheepishly as you were saying something to him. he doesn't know what you were saying, your back was to him, but the way your head swayed and your hands were moving he knew you were talking.

honestly eren was never this defensive of someone before. maybe it was your constant insistence of you being fine on your own. "boy, i'm grown," you'd say to him. it only made his instinct to protect you grow stronger.

he knew well you could handle your own. but how fucking dare him?! it's like floch was begging for an ass whooping!

he wasn't actually. he was begging for you to send him the homework answers for your chem class. "not gonna lie floch, i haven't even looked at that shit yet," you admit with a shrug, your lips pulled into a friendly smile.

floch groans as he rubs the back of his neck. "i'm for sure gonna flunk that class. i might just say fuck it and retake it next year."

"not if i can help it," you interject, furrowing your brows. "we pass together, we fail together. i'll send you the answers on groupme tomorrow when i finish."

floch pumps his fist. "man, you're the fucking best, [name]. if you weren't in there i dunno what i'd–"

a hard body brushes past floch, harshly and intentionally slamming his shoulder into theirs. "hey, man, what the–"

you smell eren before you see him, wearing that delicious cologne that's stained into your bed sheets. you look up to find him looking down at you, fire in his sea green irises as he glares at you.

you feign oblivion, lifting an eyebrow at him. "hey," you speak first.

"why haven't you been responding to my texts." his voice is curt, but still soft nonetheless. you feel your girls looking at you intently to see how you were going to play this.

"been busy, sorry," you respond, not sounding much too apologetic.

eren cuts his eyes to the right to see floch still standing there, much to his distaste, a look of confusion plastered across his face. "you need somethin'?" he asks him, a foreign, cutting edge to his question.

"i was just trying to ask her about the homework, dude," floch bites back defensively, taking the smallest step back.

your dainty hand trails up to grab eren's forearm, your soft, irreplicable touch quelling his aggravation. you swear you could feel his taut muscles relax at your contact, knowing he was probably deprived. so dramatic.

"eren, calm down," you reprimand him gently, but sternly. you gave floch an apologetic glance. "sorry, floch. see you tuesday."

floch nods, his auburn eyebrows creased in the middle as he glanced at eren, then back at you, before departing. in tandem, you let go.

"what's your problem," you seethe, but not loud enough for your friends to hear. "you damn near made that boy shit his pants."

eren sucked his teeth, closing his eyes to roll them as he clenched his jaw. "why are you ignoring me, [name]," his low voice is strained, constricting his internal anger to the best of his ability. his high was blown, the music was too loud, you smelled and looked too good, it was all too much.

you place a hand on your hip, your beautiful eyes passive, but holding a glint of hurt behind them. "just collect your breath. i don't wanna talk about it here... even though you know what the problem is-"

"yo, [name], wanna hit this again?" saved by the bell.

"yes, pleaseeee," you drawl. you turn on heels, but not before telling eren, "i'll see you later."

shortly after eren departed to god knows where, and you got high as hell, was when you received that text. and you don't know if it was the marijuana making you fuzzy and horny, the growing urge to just be in his arms, or what, but you complied.

as you brushed and weaved between drunken bodies, you couldn't subdue the underlying feelings of anxiety that swelled in your chest. you didn't know what to expect. but you knew one thing for certain, you were gonna give eren a piece of your mind tonight.

when you finally made it to the bathroom door, you released a breath you didn't even realize you were holding, shaking yourself of your jittery nerves before your knuckles rapped against the hollow wood of the door.

it wasn't even three seconds before eren cracked the door, and before you could say anything, you were yanked in.

you squealed at his presentation of strength, the butterflies in your stomach downward-diving straight to your core. "well, damn! what happened to hello? how are you?!"

eren ignored your playful reprimanding, instead using the time to soak and drink you in. you were so pretty, fussing at him like that. the way your glossy lips twisted as you spoke on about nothing relevant, the way your hair swayed with every movement you made. every muscle in his body urged him to kiss you, breathe you in.

"whatcha call me in here for? it's hot as hell..." you murmured, leaning against the cool wood of the door in attempt to catch your breath.

eren was quiet as he loomed on the opposite side of the bathroom, half-lidded cyan eyes carefully trained on you. you lifted your eyebrows with a shake of your head, prompting him to go on, your arms crossed against your glittery chest. "you're so pretty," he hums, a side smirk playing at his lips, showing his pretty white teeth that you wish you were nibbling on you just about right now.

"can't smooth-talk your way out of everything, eren," you resisted with a strain in your voice, turning to face the mirror to the left of you instead of him. "i'm still upset with you."

"rightfully so," eren agrees, slowly closing the distance between the two of you, backing you against the cool oak wood of the bathroom door. "'m sorry baby, you know i love spending time with you more than anything in this world–"

"i beg to differ," you interject. eren rests his eyes as he clenches his jaw, withholding a sigh. "all i asked was that you put me first for one night... and you couldn't even do that."

"baby, listen to me." eren's large hand engulfs yours, the warmth of his palm spreading through your limbs like wildfire. "words can't even begin to express how deeply sorry i am. i know i fucked up... i know. but, i had reason i've been wanting to work a lot more often as of late." he pauses. he couldn’t possibly pop his question in a bathroom at connie’s party. you’d hate him ten times more than you already do in his moment.

you cock your brow, looking up at him through those pretty lashes that framed your eyes so well. “i’m waiting, eren.”

he sucks in a deep breath, making the sound he usually makes when he’s about to say something you don’t like. “just… trust me. okay?”

that was enough to make you head for the door, reaching out to twist at the knob before he grabs at your wrist. “man, move,” you mutter, over the bullshit. you were over it all: the lies, the empty promises. and you were especially over being crowded in this bathroom with him, because you felt your resolve faltering with each passing second you remained in his presence. you felt like an animal resisting every primal instinct and bone in your body, begging you to let him touch you. it was borderline pathetic.

“you aren’t going anywhere, [name].” he meant that in more ways than one.

“how much you wanna bet?”

the frustrated glint in his aquamarine eyes and the knit in his thick brows made your knees give.

“ummm, have you guys seen [name]?” hitch asks after a good thirty minutes fly by since you first departed the group, skating her eyes around the living room with a quizzical glance.

ymir snorts. “you already know she ran off with that boy,” she exhaled the smoke she was holding in her chest out towards the ceiling, running her long fingers through historia’s golden locks. “wouldn’t be surprised if she already dipped off with him.”

not quite. instead, you and eren were still in the bathroom, your ass on the bathroom counter and your head resting against the mirror as eren was crouched before you, low to the ground as he slurped at your pussy like a man starved. he looks up at you from his place between your thighs, tongue flicking at your swollen clit before taking it into his mouth to suck on it whole. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your eyes rolling behind your closed eyelids as eren gazed up at you with hearts in his eyes. you were always so fucking beautiful, whether you were mad at him, grinning at him, or cumming for him.

“fuuuck, i think i’m bouta cum again,” you whimper, your eyebrows pinched as your orgasm brewed at a slow boil within the pit of your stomach. you already left your mark all over the marble sink, leaking down your thighs, and all over eren’s chin. but when was that ever enough to satiate his thirst?

“do it, baby,” he breathes, french kissing your pussy before speaking again. “you know i want it.”

“get it outta me, then,” you retort, a sexy simper pulling at your lips, and the darkened glare he have you through heavy eyelids made your pussy squeeze.

his big hands grip your thighs, blunt nails digging in your skin as he begins rocking your lower body up and down, sliding his long tongue from between your pussy lips to your ass with each bounce. you let out a squeal of surprise, your pink toes wriggling as he just kept doing it, over and over and over. you hear him, moaning with each stride, reveling in the saccharine taste of you. his dick felt like it was bouta break, restricted to his boxer briefs, and he felt the sticky precum leaking on his thigh. he needed to fuck you. but he always prioritizes you over all.

your orgasm bust inside you, your pussy profusely contracting as your juices coated eren’s face. “fuck, yeah,” he encourages in you, his voice in a low growl of satisfaction. he didn’t stop, cleaning you up and slurping your pussy clean. you flinched as he left a final loving kiss to your aching clit, and he chuckled as he stood to his feet. your eyes couldn’t help but look at his crotch, you couldn’t help but smirk at the prominent tent of his stiff dick being held hostage in his sweatpants. “turn around for me. i want you to see me fuck you.”

you slid off off the counter, ringing your panties off the ankle they were hanging on to, before turning around, leaning against the sink and arching your back. you looked back at him, gazing at him tauntingly. “whatchu waiting for?”

“cool it,” he warns you playfully, his thumbs hooking into the bands of his sweats. "don't bite off more than you can chew."

"i've had mouthfuls of you. i promise you i can chew."

"look at the mirror."

you turn back forward, looking at eren in the reflection. he was so pretty, his hickory locks tousled around yet still framing his face beautifully. his bottom lip was pinched between his teeth as he shifts his pants to fall below his knees before rolling his briefs down his thighs. he lifts his tshirt up, showcasing his tan abs that had a slight shimmer of perspiration as he readies the head of his dick at your opening. then, with steady hips and a deep breath, he pushes forward.

him putting his cock inside of you was such an irreplicable feeling, you don't know how to explain it. to feel his girth stretching you, giving you a burn that was so deliciously good, always made your head spin. you whine, pushing your ass back just a little bit to help eren bottom out in you. he cusses under his breath, grounding himself with a hand on your ass cheek as his pelvis met flush against your tailbone.

you felt his dick twitching inside you, and you couldn't help but let out a satisfied moan as you let your head drop against your arms folded over the sink. eren grit his teeth, his jaw clenching as he tries to regain his composure. you were so warm, so wet, so greedy judging by the way your pussy squeezed him like a vice. any sudden movements and he was bound to nut in you.

suddenly, the bathroom knob jiggles, followed by pounding against the door. you jump, your muscles stiffening as fear tickled at your tummy. eren hisses, his nails digging crescents in your cocoa buttered skin at you tightening around him. "uh, anyone in there? i gotta piss!" connie. what are the fucking odds.

"uhh, give me a few minutes!" you yell, your voice uncharacteristically shrill from your newborn anxiety as you looked back at eren with wide eyes. "maybe we should-"

you were shut up with one, heavy stroke, eren almost completely unsheathing himself before bottoming out in you again. your words died in your throat, replaced with a gasp.

"uh, okay...?" the end of connie's okay drawls up in the end. "wait, [name], is that you? are you straight in there?"

"yes... fuck, yes!" you sputter out, squeezing your eyes shut as eren picks up his speed a bit, but not his power. he was gonna do you a favor and not fuck you too dumb in here. he wants you to at least have some chance of walking out of here on your own two feet. "i'm fine!"

"okay, okay! i'll just go upstairs." after a few seconds, you hear connie shifting away, but that genuinely wasn't your main focus. eren was rolling his hips, making sure the tip of his dick hit that sweet spot that made you sing with every. single. thrust. your head was down, resting against the counter, your eyes stuck in the back of your head as you took every inch of him with grace. your moans were mere whimpers, trying your best to muffle them with the inside of your arm.

eren sees his phone vibrate from his place on the hanging shelf beside him, and he smirks to himself when he takes a brisk glance at the banner:

convict: [name]'s in the bathroom. she didnt sound too great so u should prolly check in on her

eren groans under his breath, leaning forward to mold his abdomen against the curvature of your spine. that motion was enough to make him feel like he was touching your stomach. "what are you doing?" he purrs, flicking his tongue out to lick at the shell of your ear. he feels you shiver, your shoulders shuddering as a sex-soaked cry escaped your lips. "i said i want you to watch me fuck you. why are you hiding that pretty face?"

you had nothing but a pathetic moan to offer as a response, and he scoffed to himself, a smirk curling at his lips. he stands straight, both of his hands settling at your lovehandles as he begins sending you to poundtown. the impact of his hips against your ass was loud, and there was no doubt that if anyone came to the door they would hear you getting the shit fucked out of you. "be a big girl, mama," he muses. his hand reaches for your curls, gripping your tresses to pull your head up and back. you squealed, your eyebrows pinching at the burning sensation. you mustered up the courage to flutter your eyes open to be met with the godly sight of your man, looking down at you throw those thick eyelashes, his cheeks tinting pink from the overwhelming heat of the small, crammed space. " watch me while i fuck you."

his wish is your command as you watch him through teary eyes, licking your lips at the feeling his hand snaking up the arch of your spine to come around and grip your chin. the pads of his fingers rest on your cheeks, slightly squeezing as he snaps his hips against you from behind. his eyes are boring into you, clouded by lust with a hint of adoration, watching the way your face contorts into pleasure-ridden expressions. he's watching the way your plump lips wrap around his thumb, the way your titties bounce with every deep thrust and threaten to spill out your victoria's secret bra and tank top, the way that fat ass jiggled and made waves every time he drilled his dick in you. you were perfect. from your pretty face, to your loving heart that had a padlock with his initial on it, to your gushing pussy that would squirt all over him just for him.

"this pussy is so perfect," eren hums, looking down in awe as he watches the way you cream and squeeze on his shaft. "it's like it was made just for me. was it, baby? this is just my pussy, right?"

"you know that, daddy," you slur, feeling your orgasm coming to a head. you were so ready to release, your pussy just aching to cum. you hear him give a chuckle, his hips speeding up in tandem.

"i think you're ready to cum now. i want it all on my dick. can you do that for me, princess? or is that too much to ask of you?"

but before you could even muster a response, it was as if a tsunami hit your pussy, because the way your juices sprayed against his upper thighs was a damn shame. eren lets out a moan of appreciation, biting his lip as he lets your orgasm ride out and coat his dick. he gives your ass a few appreciative cracks, making you tighten around his cock until you managed to collect your breath.

eren slowly begins unsheathing himself from you, his dick still solid as concrete but he honestly wasn't concerned with getting his own nut off right now. after all, this wasn't going to be the last time he was to be in you tonight. as soon as he takes you back to his place, he was gonna fuck you through the mattress and the bedframe.

"girl, there you are! you've been missing for like, an hour!" you bumped into hitch on your way towards the front door, eren being your guide but you squeezed his hand to let him know to stop. she shifts her eyes to him, then looks back at you with an "oh-i-see" look. "you headed home?"

"yeah, eren's gonna take me."

"okay, be safe," hitch adjusts your shirt, tugging the top hem over the shadows of your peeking bra. "call me when you get in."

"she will." eren assures hitch, and she nods, the two of you slipping away from the crowd and going off into the night.

[em1i2a3]

Idk if you’re taking requests but can you do Bob x reader where the reader has powers like Rogue. Bob has the biggest fattest crush on reader, reader is oblivious (but the crush is mutual), and angst angst ANGST

Sailor Song

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry/The Void x Rogue Inspired!Fem!Reader

Summary: Bob is in love with you, but you can’t be what he wants.

Warnings: Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts as Bob is the main character here. There is a whole boat of angst in here, and it’s a bit heartbreaking, and really frickin sad (don’t worry y’all not too sad…Hopefully lol) but I do like the character of Rogue, and this Inbox Request really sparked a lot of inspiration in me to write for an idea like this!

Author’s Note: I love where I got to go with these two characters and how it played out in the end. I added something to the reader's little arsenal of powers by the way, but it is for the plot. I hope it meets expectations. I kinda wrote this really late at night (01:49am over here lol)

Word Count: 5,477

Bob remembers the first night he saw you in his dreams.

Not when he first met you–no. That had been a tense mission briefing, it was your first introduction to the team. You had barely spoken, and Bob had sat two chairs away from you and tried not to stare. It was like he was enchanted by you– the way you held yourself, the way you stood and said your name, the little wave you gave to everyone with your gloved hands before sitting down. He remembered everything about that day.

But the dream–God the dream was so different.

It started with darkness. Not shadows, not dusk–just a smothering kind of black, like he was trapped in the deepest part of his mind. There was no floor beneath him. No air in his lungs. Just coldness. He was clawing at it. His fingers were raw and bleeding, his breath was ragged, and there was this panic that curled tight in his chest like he had swallowed barbed wire.

There was no sense of direction but all he knew was that he needed to get out, but the darkness fought back. It dragged him down, swallowed his screams, twisted his thoughts into screeching noises. It was his personal version of hell…Then…There was light.

It was just a sliver. A violent, beautiful tear right down the middle of the darkness, like someone had reached in and split the fabric with their bare hands.

Then suddenly the darkness was gone, and he found himself in the middle of a glowing field. The air was thick with warmth and the scent of something sweet–jasmine, maybe. Or lavender. He couldn’t tell. The grass around him was tall and pale, not green, but something softer–sun-bleached gold, silver at the tips like it had caught the moonlight. The sky above him was an endless stretch of colour, he couldn’t tell if it was day or night, but it was a bruised blue-purple, with streaks of rose and gold that bled through like watercolour.

It was quiet…For once it was quiet.

There was no wind. No movement. No screaming. Just breathing–his own, slow and steady. He could feel his pulse slowing down, and his skin didn’t hurt, and his hands weren’t bleeding anymore. There was no evidence of the fight he had put up in the darkness.

Confused, he turned in place slowly, trying to understand where he was–trying to find the edges of the dream. Nothing like this had ever come to him in his dreams, not when sleep was usually a war zone. A collapsing cathedral of his own mind.

Then he saw you.

You were standing a few yards away, at the center of the field, bathed in the low light. You weren’t wearing your gloves, you weren’t armored or distant, you looked happy, something he had never seen. You were smiling, and barefoot, your hair lifted slightly from the breeze that blew by you–something he hadn’t felt until that moment.

Bob froze in his spot, and your name left his mouth before he even realized he was speaking. You looked up at the sound, and turned towards it. Your eyes met him at that moment, and something in his chest cracked wide open. He was shocked that you heard him, let alone looked at him.

And then-just as his feet moved forward, just as his hand twitched at his side with the desperate, gut-deep urge to reach for you…He had woken up.

Ever since that night he would pray that he would see you again in the landscape of his dreams.

And he always did.

Each time he closed his eyes, you were there–waiting for him in that glowing field, barefoot and smiling. There was no fear or sharp intake of breath when he reached for you. It was just you, and him, in a version of the world that didn’t punish either of you for wanting something tender.

During the day, he kept his distance from you. He respected the rules you had– the ones that kept everyone safe. But in his mind he was hyper aware of everything you would do. He learned your habits, the way you avoided tight corridors, how you sat far away from people during movie night, how you always wore long sleeves no matter the weather, and how you pulled away when things became crowded.

But at night, in that field of light and silence, he didn’t have to pretend, even though he knew it wasn’t really you.

He could stand beside you without seeing you run off. He could sit close to you, close enough to touch your arm, close enough to feel your breath when you spoke. Sometimes, you would laugh and throw your head back like you weren’t scared of yourself. Sometimes you would lean into him, like it was easy…Like it was allowed.

In the dream, he wasn’t broken, and you weren’t dangerous, and that was all that mattered.

Then like always, Bob would wake up and land back in a body full of restraint. In a world full of barriers. In a life where the one person he wanted, didn’t truly want him.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Because you never looked at him the way you did in the dream. You never touched him, never lingered near him too long. You were careful with everyone–but with him, there was something more than just caution. It felt like avoidance to him, and he couldn’t figure out if it was because you felt something too, or if it was just the shape of his own delusion.

—————-

��Valentina has planned a retreat for all of us this weekend.” Bucky announced, his voice even but authoritative in the way that warned everyone that nobody was going to be getting out of this, “She says it’s for ‘team bonding,’ so there are no exceptions.”

An array of groans echoed through the common room, and everyone exchanged glances at one another. You were at the kitchen island eating cereal, picking around the marshmallows, leaving them floating in the milk. Your spoon clinked gently against the bowl as you did it, moving slowly and methodically, not looking up to the chaos that was going on around you.

Across from you, Bob sat with his own bowl–one hand wrapped loosely around the ceramic, while the other one rested on the counter beside it. It wasn’t on purpose that he sat across from you, he had just walked in–wearing a baggy hoodie and matching sweatpants–poured his cereal in a sleepy haze and plopped himself down, still rubbing the dreams of you out of his eyes.

”Well why the hell do we need to go on a retreat if we literally already live together? Isn’t doing that enough?” Walker asked loudly, half-laughing, half-serious, his tone teetering on the edge of defiance. Bucky didn’t even flinch at the question because he already knew it was coming.

”Because Val said so, and because you guys don’t know how to wait until after briefings to snap at one another.” Bucky replied, not even looking up from the papers in his hands, “Just a reminder you’re the one who almost got into a fight with Yelena because she accidentally handed you the wrong clip for your gun…So…Maybe that’ll give you another reason why they want us to go into the a cabin in the woods together.” Bucky finished, his tone flat but edged with exhaustion.

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and Ava didn’t miss a beat.

”Yeah, it’s to make it easier to hide the bodies.” She said coolly, reaching for her coffee. Yelena grinned over her mug.

”I don’t need a cabin in the woods. I’d bury Walker deep enough that nobody would ever find him.” Laughter broke out, bouncing off the walls of the compound like someone had opened a valve and let the pressure spill. They all needed it, just to take the edge off the impending doom that was the forced retreat.

You glanced up at Bob who was staring down at his bowl, picking around at the contents like he was distracted. But you saw the way his jaw tensed slightly. The way his hand hovered just a second too long before plunging the spoon back into the milk. He looked up only when the laughter swelled again, and with the most practiced casualness, shoved a spoonful of soggy marshmallows into his mouth.

You glanced down at your own bowl, watching as the marshmallows drifted aimlessly, softening at the edges, bleeding their artificial colors into the milk in soft pinks and greens and blues. They didn’t look real. Like tiny ghosts of something sweet you’d never let yourself want.

A pang stirred in your chest.

Not because of the marshmallows. Not even because of the retreat. But because this was a rare moment–an opportunity to offer him something, anything, that didn’t come off as cold or standoffish. Something that didn’t feel like a wall.

You hadn’t meant for your past interactions with Bob to be sharp. But they had been. Unintentionally. A result of instinct, of fear, of that constant need to protect others from you, and maybe to protect yourself from what you knew you couldn’t have.

You let out a soft sigh, and reached out before you could talk yourself out of it, tapping on the counter in front of him. He had flinched, almost like you had reached out and smacked him. It was the smallest jerk in his shoulder but you saw it. His eyes flicked over to yours, wide and uncertain, like maybe he didn’t believe you were actually trying to get his attention.

“Do you want these?” You whispered, nodding towards your bowl. His eyebrows drew together, confused at your offer, and at the fact you were the one speaking first, when it had always been him to do that. Bob, stumbling through conversation starters. Bob, trying to make you smile. Bob, desperately trying to pretend that he wasn’t dreaming about you every night and waking up lonelier than the day before. His blue eyes glanced down at the bowl for a moment, then raised back to yours. You could see the way he was contemplating. There wasn’t calculation behind his eyes, there was conflict, like he couldn’t tell if this was real, or if he’d finally blurred the line between the waking world and the place where he only ever touched you in dreams.

You watched his mouth part–just barely, like he wanted to say really solid yes, but instead he gave a small nod.

And then–barely audible–he whispered, “Y-Yeah…I mean…If you don’t w-want them of course.” You shook your head at him, then without a word, you slid the bowl toward him. The motion was smooth and steady, but Bob noticed everything. He saw the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way your gloved fingers were barely touching the bowl, like you thought he was going to try to touch you, even the look on your face was telling him that you thought he was going to do something.

He swallowed, sitting up a little straighter, feeling his stomach twisting, as he met you halfway and dragged the bowl away from you, pulling it close to him.

Bob was going to say something, not anything huge, just something that could keep the interaction going.

But before he could get any words out–

”Wait, wait, wait, hold on–we’re all sleeping in the same room?!” Yelena's voice cut across the kitchen like a record scratch. That sentence alone made the both of you draw your attention back to what was happening, surprised by the new information.

”It’s a small cabin,” Bucky said flatly, “One open concept floor. Living room turns into a sleeping area, so bring your own blanket.”

“Oh, this is just great,” Walker muttered, “Can’t wait to wake up to Alexei’s snoring…”

”I do not snore.” Alexei replied.

Bob tuned out of the conversation after hearing the fact that you would all be shoved into one room together to sleep. He could feel a pit of dread settling in his stomach, because he knew what that meant for you. What it would feel like to be surrounded by everyone, pressed into a shared space with no safety net, and no room for distance. He could already see the cogs turning in your head, like the weekend was a minefield and you were the innocent person dropped in the middle of it to try and navigate around the impossible.

Even worse though–he knew what it would mean for him, if he had to fall asleep knowing you were just a few feet away. Close enough to touch. Close enough to hear you breathe. Close enough that when he opened his eyes he would see you, after spending the entire night dreaming of you. It made him ill, and he didn’t know how the hell he was going to handle it when the time came.

———————

The night before the trip, everyone had gathered in the common room to sort out who was bringing what, how many bags were going to fit in the back of the van, who was on snack duty, and who was going to sit where. It had been a loud, chaotic and predictably annoying back and forth, and all you wanted to do was retreat and go to sleep, but you knew that you were going to be a subject that was going to be brought up, so it would be easier to be there.

Bob on the other hand had turned in early.

Said he wasn’t feeling great, a headache according to him. He mentioned he just needed rest.

You overheard him murmur it to Yelena when she passed him in the hallway, and she didn’t push for any information, she just gave him a nod and let him go. It was something that he was doing frequently these days, ducking out of night events to go to bed, and there was always a convenient excuse for him. It was either a headache, lack of sleep, or just not feeling good, and it got him out of everything, including this conversation.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky exclaimed, raising his voice just enough to cut through the arguing, “Even if everyone brings only one bag, we’re still going to be short on space in the van. So we need to figure out how to get everyone there safely without anything happening.” There was a pause in the chatter, the kind that signaled the shift that you were anticipating–the part where you became the logistical variable.

Nobody said your name though.

Instead, there was some fumbling. Alexei muttered something about using the roof racks to tie Walker up onto it. Ava agreed with the suggestion. And Yelena was looking at you out of the corner of her eye like she was waiting for you to offer a solution before anyone else tried to come up with one on your behalf.

”I can drive myself…I have my car,” You said, eyes glancing down at the laminated packing list in your lap, “I can just meet all of you there.” You added. There was a small shift in the atmosphere, like you had immediately taken the tension out of the room. Bucky looked up from the clipboard he was holding, his expression unreadable but focused.

“Thank you, Y/N. That helps more than you realize…But we still won’t have enough space to fit everyone comfortably, would you be able to take someone else with you?” Your eyes flicked up to him.

”Sure.” Bucky bit the inner side of his cheek, like he was contemplating who he was going to send with you. Knowing that you would have final say regardless of the suggestion he gave.

”Would you be able to take…Bob?”

For a moment, all you could think about was how Bob had looked that morning when you offered him your marshmallows. The way he hesitated, and flinched when you tapped the counter, the way his eyes lingered on your gloves.

You thought about how he didn’t look at you again after that, and it made your throat tighten slightly.

Not because you were offended…But because it hurt.

Because there was something about Bob Reynolds that made your chest ache in ways you didn’t know how to soothe. Something about his silence–gentle, tentative, never invasive–that made you feel seen even when you couldn’t be touched. And the worst part was knowing that he wanted to. Not just physically. Not just a hand on your wrist or a brush of fingers. But all of it. The closeness. The company. The conversation that didn’t come laced with protocols.

That’s why you tried to build walls around you as much as possible…Because you knew Bob would never try to scale them. He respected you too much to ignore the rules. Yet you still found yourself thinking that one day he would try to cross the line.

”That’s fine.” You said. It came out even, and controlled, but inside you were anything but.

Bucky gave you a small nod and marked it down with the click of his pen. The others went back to their tasks, but your fingers were stiff against your lap–your gloves creasing every so faintly from how tightly you were gripping the paper.

You left the room not long after, and nobody stopped you.

————-

The next morning came quickly.

Your bag was already packed, and your car was fully prepared for the ride up. You had checked yourself–the gas tank was full, the heat was working, and the backseat was empty. You even shifted the passenger seat back to accommodate Bob’s knees so he didn’t slam them into the glove compartment when he stepped in.

The sky was still a dull blue-gray when you stepped outside, and you could see your breath puffing out in front of you in soft white clouds. The compound behind you was buzzing faintly with the chaos of people double-checking their bags and fighting over seat assignment, but out here in the quietness of the early morning, it almost felt peaceful.

You stood by your car, leaning against the driver’s side door, gloved fingers curled around your thermos. You took slow sips of your coffee–not because you needed it, but because the warmth gave you something to focus on–a distraction from the impending drive. It was only going to be three hours, but you could tell it would be the longest three hours you had ever experienced.

Each passing second was a breath you didn’t want to admit you were holding. Part of you hoped Bob wouldn’t show up–that he would decide last-minute to ride in the van instead and send someone else, to spare you both the awkwardness of being locked in such a small space with nothing but music, the road, and the weight of every unspoken thing between you.

But the other part of you–the one buried deep beneath layers of self-preservation and fear–hoped he would. Hoped he would sit in your passenger seat and glance over at you, and maybe this time…He wouldn’t look away.

The front doors of the compound hissed open.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him. You felt it. The shift. That subtle pressure in your chest like gravity had tilted slightly in his direction. You turned your head just enough to catch him walking across the lot, backpack slung low over his shoulder and a tupperware container cradled in his arms. His hoodie was pulled over his head, and his coat was zipped all the way up, making him look smaller than usual despite the broadness of his shoulders.

He spotted you and slowed.

Bob always slowed when he saw you. Like he needed an extra second to brace himself.

He adjusted the container in his grip and gave a shy, uncertain wave. You lifted your thermos in return.

”Morning,” You said quietly.

”Morning,” He echoed, voice hoarse like he hadn’t spoken to anyone yet today, “I uh…I brought that banana bread that I made yesterday evening. It’s not…I mean. It’s not good, but Yelena tried it last night and didn’t die, so…” You let out a small breath, as a smirk slowly tugged up on your lips.

”Low bar, but I guess it’ll do.” That made him laugh a bit, like he was a little embarrassed, but it was something. He moved towards the passenger door, shifting from foot to foot. You reached into your pocket, clicked the fob and unlocked the doors.

”I adjusted the seat already for you,” You mentioned, opening your own door, slipping in and putting your thermos into the cup holder, while he did the same on his side, “Didn’t want you cramped the whole drive.” You added, when he was able to hear you.

”Oh…Uh…Thanks.” He said after a beat, sliding his backpack off his shoulder, before easing himself into the seat beside you, and shutting the door. The quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it settled between you like mist–thick with things that neither of you wanted to say to one another. You didn’t look at him right away. You focused on adjusting the heat, on clicking your seatbelt into place, on the scrape of your thermos as you nudged it deeper into the cup holder. Anything to keep your hands busy.

But the air had already changed.

The moment he sat down, you could feel it. The warmth of his body chased out the cold that had lingered in the space all morning. He smelled like laundry soap and something sweet–vanilla, maybe. Cinnamon. The faintest trace of sleep still clung to him, and something about that undid you a little. He had clearly just rolled out of bed, eyes still rimmed with the softness of sleep, his hair slightly mussed beneath his hood.

And worse–there was a part of you that wanted to lean closer, just to breathe him in.

Bob didn’t move much, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. His shoulders were rigid, like he was afraid to take up too much space. His hands stayed clasped around the tupperware in his lap, like he needed something to hold onto–some anchor to keep him from saying something he shouldn’t. Like, I dreamt about you again last night. Like, You touched my face and nothing happened. Like, I don’t know how to sit next to you now without wanting things I can’t ask for.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked quietly, putting the car in drive, almost like you were asking for him to tell him about what he had been dreaming about, “I heard you mention to Yelena that you weren’t feeling too well.” Bob looked over at you fast, like he hadn’t expected you to say anything to him for the drive. He was thankful that the hoodie over his head hid his flushed ears, but his face wasn’t shielded from your gaze, and you could see the way the red creeped up on his cheeks.

”Uh…Yeah. Yeah I slept well…Feeling much better.” You nodded once, lips pressing together in a way that wasn’t quite a smile, nor a frown. You didn’t believe him, not fully at least. His voice was too soft, and too careful, like he was picking his words carefully. And maybe that’s what hurt you the most–how gentle he was even when he was lying.

“Oh. Good.” You said simply, eyes fixated on the road ahead as you pressed on the gas, pulling out of the parking lot. Bob sank into the passenger seat, still tasting the ghost of your name on his tongue from the dream he’d barely left behind.

The field had been brighter last night. You laughed at something he said. The kind of laugh that made him feel like the world wasn’t so sharp anymore. Like maybe it didn’t hurt to breathe when you were near. You’d touched his face in the dream–cupped his cheek like he was breakable and safe all at once–and he’d felt it linger long after his eyes opened. He was surprised you didn’t notice how red his eyes were from crying, but then again why would you be concerned with that.

Now he sat here, beside the real you, and he couldn’t even meet your eyes for more than a second.

You glanced at him, catching the way he clutched the tupperware container like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment, the way he fiddled with the edges, the nervous twitching he always did that you couldn’t help but notice. It was one of his many tells that something was bothering him, but you didn’t push, your eyes just returned to what was in front of you.

The highway stretched ahead like a ribbon of grey silk, unraveling beneath your tires. The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, and the pale light bleeding through the windshield was casting a bluish tint over Bob’s face. You kept your eyes on the road, but you could feel his presence like heat on your skin.

“You really didn’t have to bring anything,” You murmured after a stretch of quiet, nodding toward the banana bread.

Bob looked over at you quickly, then back down at the container like it had surprised him to still be there. “I… I just thought it might be nice. For the cabin. It’s dumb, but I—uh—sometimes baking helps when I can’t sleep.”

Your grip on the wheel tightened slightly. “It’s not dumb to want to do something nice…I wasn’t saying it to be…Cold or anything. It’s just a nice thing to do.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Just for a moment. And for the first time in what felt like ages, you looked at him.

A breath passed between you. Heavy. Loaded.

But it didn’t last. Bob glanced back down at the container again and shifted in his seat. The tension in his shoulders softened marginally, and you could tell the lull of the ride was beginning to get to him. The rhythm of the road, the warmth of the heater. You caught the slow, unconscious twitch of his fingers against the plastic lid before he rested the tupperware gently on the floor by his feet and leaned his head back against the headrest.

“I think…I’m going to close my eyes for a bit,” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you alright?” You asked, concerned about the sudden change in his demeanor.

“Yeah…J-Just tired.” He murmured, his lashes fluttering once before settling. You didn’t push. You didn’t ask if he was sure. You just adjusted the heat a little higher and turned the radio down low, giving him the space he always gave you.

The car fell into a soft hush, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the distant thump of tires over uneven pavement. Bob’s breathing slowed next to you. Gradually. Unevenly at first. Then steadily.

And then it was silent.

Until.

“…Y/N.”

Your name. Whispered like a secret. Like a prayer.

It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet either. Just clear enough to freeze your hands on the wheel.

You glanced over at him, and his face was tilted toward you now, not fully, but just enough to expose the vulnerability in his features. His brows were drawn slightly together, lips parted, and the softest tremble lingered on the edge of them–like he was mid-sentence in a conversation he couldn’t have while awake.

“…M-Miss y-you.” You didn’t mean to slam on the brakes.

Technically you didn’t–but your foot did twitch hard enough on the pedal to make the car lurch slightly, just enough that your coffee sloshed in the cupholder and Bob stirred in the passenger seat with a soft grunt. But he didn’t wake–not fully. He just shifted his head slightly against the seat, curling further toward the door like he was bracing himself for something, the way someone does when they expect to wake up heartbroken.

You stared at him for a long, stunned second. Your fingers had gone numb around the wheel. You weren’t even sure you were breathing. All you knew was you had to pull over to try and regain some sense of stability before continuing, because your thoughts were derailing and spinning out of control.

You pulled off to the shoulder as smoothly as you could, but your hands were trembling too much to hide it. The car dipped slightly as it slowed to a crawl, the crunch of gravel beneath your tires filling the sudden silence now that the radio had gone quiet. You didn’t turn the engine off. You didn’t unbuckle your seatbelt. You just sat there, staring at your own reflection in the faint gleam of the windshield, breathing like someone who’d just run a marathon.

Bob shifted again beside you in his sleep, brow creasing like he was trying to hold onto something—some fragile thread of whatever dream he was caught inside. But all you could hear was your name, still echoing softly in the air between you.

Y/N.

Miss you.

Your throat tightened so hard it hurt.

Because no one missed you. Not like that.

You didn’t let them.

You couldn’t.

Not when the cost of closeness was something you couldn’t afford. One wrong brush of skin, one slip in control, one heartbeat too fast, one lapse of judgment–and everything you cared about could shatter. You had spent years learning how to exist at arm’s length, how to keep every tender instinct buried beneath gloves, sleeves, distance, and detachment. You had become an expert at denial. At convincing yourself that loneliness was better than guilt.

But Bob Reynolds–quiet, sweet, trembling Bob–was dreaming about you like you were something he had lost. Like he’d had you once. Touched you once. Held you once.

And the worst part? You believed him.

Because deep in your bones, somewhere beneath the power that was humming like electricity in your bloodstream, you felt it. That dream wasn’t just a dream. You knew what it felt like when someone’s subconscious pressed into your atmosphere–when they wanted you so badly that even your powers couldn’t keep them out. And if he’d been dreaming of you enough, if he’d carried that version of you with him night after night…There was a chance his dreams had reached into yours too.

That would explain the phantom warmth you sometimes woke up with. The laughter you’d hear in your sleep and never understand. The way your chest had started to ache when he walked into a room.

“Oh my god…” You breathed, so softly it barely counted as sound.

Your gloved hand hovered, trembling slightly, before you set it down in your lap again. You couldn’t reach out. You wouldn’t. But your heart was thudding so violently in your chest now that you could feel it behind your eyes.

You turned to look at him again.

His lashes were still down, mouth parted slightly in sleep, but the edges of his expression were laced with pain. It wasn’t rest he was getting–it was longing. A quiet, desperate kind. And if you listened carefully, you could hear the tiniest whisper leave his mouth again–like a plea caught in the middle of a storm.

“…Don’t go…Please d-don’t go.”

And your heart broke into a million pieces, because as much as you wanted to reach out to comfort him, there would be no use. It would only draw you in deeper, and somehow you would end up losing him, and that was something you couldn’t risk, something you wouldn’t risk. Bob was part of your constant whether you liked it or not, but you couldn’t be what he needed, or what he wanted, not with the powers you held, and you knew that right from the start.

You just didn’t realize how hard it would be to suppress everything and bury it, but now was just the beginning of the pain.

[buckyschair]

AFTERGLOW

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A sequel part to Flirting, which follows our dear reader (an archivist from Day Court) and the events post-hook-up with Azriel. Don’t worry, his busybody family could never be too sidetracked with running their court to prevent them getting involved in his love life– and, thanks to the properties of transference, yours! Have you stumbled upon something real here with him? Or will it be over before it’s begun? Only Azriel’s shadowy attachment style and maladaptive coping mechanisms will tell! Spoiler: the sex is good. 

read part one on tumblr here

A/N: From the bottom of my heart, what the fuck was I doing when I started writing this fic in the second person present tense. Copy editing this was a nightmare. I am completely demoralized. The only thing that can cure me? Your comments and kudos, baby! 

Content Warnings: porn with plot, kinda switches between your POVS, female reader, Rhys and Cass and Mor being dickheads (affectionate), smut (featuring aftercare <3), mutual masturbation, thigh riding, unprotected PIV sex, explicit language, alcohol, yearning, idiots to lovers, no use of Y/N

Disclaimers: 1. I’m woman enough to admit that I don’t know how the magic system works in this universe. Who has what powers? None of my business. Yet, somehow, this same author spent an hour researching exactly how people with penises like to masturbate. And that’s showbiz, baby! 2. It’s also not my business where these people live. I haven’t read ACOSF yet so I have no idea where they’re all supposed live so just pretend Az has his own place and they all share a house too idk the river house is new and confusing to me kthxbyeeee

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~14k 

Read on AO3

It’s surprisingly domestic, how the morning unfolds in a post-coital haze, breathy moans lapsing into quiet conversation about pillow preferences and the day's looming demands. You’re seriously so glad you went dancing last night, especially since your fun solo night out was cut short in favor of mind blowing sex with Azriel. The male lies beside you, your body tucked into his arm on his massive bed, the pair of you lingering after another round of bliss. You’re reluctant to emerge from your shared cocoon, but you know you can’t stay forever. 

“I don’t know about you, but this is my ideal morning,” Azriel comments lazily.

You murmur something noncommittal. 

He raises himself up on one arm to look at you, affronted. You see the disbelief in his poised face, his quiet accusation: How could it get better than this? It’s sharp enough to uncover your grin as you answer: 

“A bath?” you propose.

Azriel presses a kiss to your temple before grumbling his way out from under the covers. 

“Anything for my esteemed guest,” he says sarcastically.

“I’m so honored,” you say, eyes rolling behind his back as he disappears into the washroom. 

“I saw that!” he calls from inside.

You give him a rude gesture from your place under his sheets, and you hear his chuckle echoing through the open doorway as he draws you a bath. Even his laughter sounds like a whispered secret. You treasure the sound, storing it away in your memory. 

You’re half hoping he’ll join you in the bath, but he leaves you to wash alone once you finally emerge from his bed. Water sluices across your form as you cleanse yourself of the hard earned sweat and stain. While the stickiness washes away, the warmth of your experience remains; an invisible mark at odds with the pale bruises blooming on your chest and thighs. His soap smells of citrus and cedar, a salty scrub that rejuvenates your flesh and invigorates your senses. It was the scent you’d caught in his pillows as you’d been pressed into them this morning. You wipe the images from your mind, clearing your head with some effort. 

When you emerge from your much needed bath, wrapped in a towel, you find your things laid out neatly for you atop his fresh sheets. You pick up an oversized shirt included in the pile. Your brow arches in silent question towards the male currently fussing with dirty sheets. Thankfully, he’s donned some undershorts, so you could expect to keep it together for at least a full conversation. 

“I couldn’t find your shirt,” Azriel confesses, apologetic. He tells you that he looked all over his room while you were bathing, to no avail. 

“Aren’t you a spy? I can’t believe you couldn't track it down,” you laugh as you slip into his tunic. It smells clean, and you’re a little put out that it doesn’t have his aroma. He throws a pillow at you, and you barely catch it before it smacks you in the face. His pout only makes you laugh harder. 

He apologizes again about your top, but as you slip your skirt back on, you remind him that you weren’t protesting last night when he threw it gods know where. His ears burn as he imagines it falling out the window, landing somewhere in the city below, perhaps much to some stranger’s confusion. 

“Not that it would be out of character for this place, with Rhys and Feyre being the way they are,” he concludes, cracking you up again. 

You come to stand before him, in your odd new outfit, short tight skirt and long baggy shirt. Now that you’re dressed, you aren’t sure of what comes next. So far, he’s directed your morning routine, and you’re suddenly dreading the inevitable moment when you have to leave. His eyes are taking you in, and you have no idea how his heart stutters at the sight of you, freshly bathed in his soap and dressed in his clothing. He has half a mind to take you back to bed, if Rhys hadn’t just been in his head reminding him of their upcoming morning appointment. 

Before you can ask him what the plan is, your stomach growls loudly, demanding. 

You curse your traitorous stomach as you walk through the grand halls alone in search of a meal, disoriented since he’d kissed your temple again right after dispatching you to the kitchen. He’d offered to get the two of you food, but you told him he should bathe first. Truth be told, you just needed a moment to get your bearings. This morning was far more normal than you were expecting, and it unnerved you how easily you’d fallen into a mock domestic routine with the warrior. 

Soon enough, you find a well stocked kitchen, exactly where Azriel had explained it would be. You shouldn’t be surprised that his directions were so clear, given the male’s strategic mind. 

You do find yourself surprised, however, that he’s allowing you to wander unchaperoned and barefoot through his court’s inner dwelling. The thought had warmth blooming in your chest as you set water to boil on the stove before looking around for some proper kind of tea. 

Before you know it, you’ve lost yourself to snooping through the full cabinets, inspecting jars and baskets of dry goods as you assemble your small feast. As an archivist, you can’t help admiring neat collections of any kind. You’re as endlessly fascinated with the contents of cabinets as you are with stacks of manuscripts. 

The distraction is why you don’t notice the approaching footsteps until a sarcastic voice calls you out of your reverie. 

“Az? Is that you?” 

You freeze your snacking at the unfamiliar male voice in the hallway. 

“What the hell, brother. So tell me why you tapped out earlier than anyone last night– without saying goodbye, might I add– and yet you’re the only one late to training this–” the voice cuts off as he finally spots you through the door frame. 

“Oh,” the Illyrian stumbles before quickly recovering, “Hello.” A boyish smile breaks upon his face as he takes in your state, dressed in his brother’s shirt over a skintight skirt. 

“You’re not Azriel,” he observes keenly. 

He offers you a wide grin, which you return sheepishly at first but then with real humor. 

“No, I’m not,” you laugh, realizing this must be Cassian. You introduce yourself briefly before adding, “He’ll probably be late this morning.”

“I bet he will be,” Cassian quips, but before he can question you further, you excuse yourself with your tea while it's still hot. 

“It’s nice to meet you!” he calls after you, your name ringing down the corridor. 

Cassian shakes his head once you leave, speechless for a moment before he contacts Rhys. You won’t believe this! he projects excitedly, thrilled to have some gossip on his brooding brother for once. 

You can’t hide your giddy blush when you return to Azriel’s room to eat. He takes the tea with quiet thanks, laughing at the mischief you’d gotten up to in his absence, and even more so at your impression of Cassian. His chest warms at your brief brush with his family. You enjoy a peaceful meal sitting in his chair by the window while he tidies his already very clean room, noting how fastidious he is in his motions as he dresses and styles his hair for the day. 

Once he’s run out of ways to drag out his morning routine, he turns to you with a serious but soft expression. 

“Can I see you again?” Azriel asks. If all logic didn’t defy it, you’d say he sounds nervous. “Perhaps on a real date?” 

“A date?” you ask coyly. You don’t bother to hide your smug delight at his words, feeling like you’ve just won a prize. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. A lot.” 

His resulting smile is so bright– for a second it transports you back to the grand archival library in Day court, where you’d soak up the blinding noon light that would stream in through the tall arched windows. You could always rely on its warmth for a reprieve from your dusty, tedious tasks. You imagine Az must feel similarly in this moment for his shadowy expression to break with such radiance. 

It calms your sorrow at leaving the brilliant palace, confident that you might very well see it again soon. You enjoy this flight more, as he carefully maneuvers through the city’s sky, the journey less disorienting in the daylight. He leaves you on the steps of your accommodations near the library with a lingering kiss and a promise to see you again the next night. 

Once he leaves, your mind goes into overdrive, cataloguing all that had occurred and trying to figure out what exactly drew you together. If there was any sort of common thread, it was invisible, but you felt its undeniable pull all the same. 

You’d have to do some further research, you decide, on Illyrians, and on shadowsingers. And perhaps on sex positions with winged fae. And maybe you should buy a new going out top… though you certainly wouldn’t be returning this new one anytime soon, you think, smoothing Azriel’s shirt down as you step inside your little place. 

You happily plan your list of tasks and activities, unaware of the shadows that slip inside after you, ready to report back to their master, who is equally anticipating your next meeting, even as he arrives unforgivably late to training, only to face the torment of his nosy family. 

Azriel bears their prying questions and bold threats with characteristic stoicism, cracking only to say that they’d better play nice, offering scalding threats of his own lest they scare you off. Deep down, he thinks with pride that you could probably actually handle them in their full chaos.   

After all, he’d felt something shake loose in his chest this morning as he’d laid watching your sleeping form. He recalls how he’d felt last night, when you were backlit and glowing above him. The magnetism that had sparked, a gravity he stepped into fearlessly when in battle, that now gave him pause. Later, when he had a moment, he would examine it more intently, but even at this glance, he felt it strongly.

He swallows his smile as he falls into the motions of sparring with Rhys, feeling that familiar thrill. He’s found a real contender in you, he should have known it from the moment he saw you squaring up back at the club. Azriel can’t wait to see things through with you. 

Hours later, recalling that excitement feels like mockery, as he ponders what one possibly does for a first– second?– date. He curses himself for having such a premature reaction, rather than applying a more rational process to the situation. He’d met you once. He told himself he hardly knew you.

But even as he had that thought, he brought to mind all he’d absorbed about you. Your life in Day, your dedication to your people, your reverence for things of antiquity. His mind wandered to your shared experience, how he’d seen you come alive and undone under his touch. Your small reactions, your fixation on his wings, your quickness to humor. He couldn’t convince himself that he didn’t know you at all. Still, surely many fae knew you better than he could, after just one night. 

The thought fills him with an ugly emotion; he didn’t like that someone else might know you better than he. Azriel scolds himself for his juvenile envy. He hadn’t earned special intimacy with you. Yet , he amends. 

He is a master of spies, and foremost of a scarce population who could wield shadows as easily as any blade, and the trusted right hand of the most formidable High Lord in history. Even in his own right, he is one of the most powerful Illyrians in existence, he reminds himself as he sets to the task of planning your date. 

Azriel is determined to show you a good time. He thinks back to how organic, how right your brief time together at Rita’s had felt. 

How badly could this go? 

✸✸✸ 

“You’re an idiot. I knew you were an asshole, but honestly Az, I hadn’t pegged you as an idiot,” Cassian scoffs, his raven locks shaking derisively. “I don’t know why I expected better.”  

Azriel just glares at him. He should have known it was a mistake to come to Cassian for advice. 

He looks to Rhys, hoping to find more level headed counsel. The three of them were cooling down from their morning sparring the night after his much anticipated date with you, ransacking the kitchen to refuel. Unfortunately, Rhys’ expression isn’t encouraging, the High Lord barely concealing his amusement. 

Azriel sighs, supplicating the ceiling for better guidance. He knows that their strenuous exercises aren’t solely to blame for the distant throbbing in his skull. 

“Quit it with the hysterics,” Rhys teases. 

Azriel levels him with a stare, his shoulders tense and his shadows in pandemonium. 

Rhys sighs, relenting, “So, you were saying you took her out to dinner?” he prompts diplomatically. 

Azriel nods. He had picked you up about an hour after you’d gotten out of work for the day. You’d been elegantly arrayed, but still casual, since you weren’t sure what he had planned. Your wide smile upon seeing him had left him winded as you’d taken in his generous physique. He’d been drinking you in too, and the sight of those same chunky boots on your feet had had him smirking. 

You’d playfully bared your teeth as you laid your hand on his waiting arm. “See something you like, soldier?” you’d teased. 

“Very much so,” he’d responded honestly. 

His candor had struck you off balance with more punch than any sweet talk or sass could have packed. His eyes held the same intensity that they’d burned with the other night; the same intensity that you’d started to doubt in your memory, thinking you must have imagined it in your blissed out daze. 

“You clean up nice, too,” you’d recovered. 

He’d mirrored your blush then, his red dusted cheeks relaxing you as he’d guided the two of you along the Sidra into the center of town. 

The restaurant had been nice, not too nice, but comfortable and intimate. You’d been thrilled with the menu, the seafood more exotic and the spices more daring than what you told him you were used to back in Day. Perhaps he should have commented more of his own thoughts, but he was so satisfied just to listen to your chatter. 

“Dinner was good,” Azriel shares.

Rhys and Cassian share a look at that. They were probably holding a conversation mentally on the side, analyzing and strategizing. 

“Well, don’t bore us with the details,” Rhys prompts sarcastically. 

Azriel swallows his retort, reminding himself that these were his brothers. As much as they pissed him off, they were his family, and they wanted the best for him. They wanted him to be happy. 

“What else do you want to know?!” he groans.

“Did you fuck her?” Cassian deadpans. 

Azriel just sputters in response. He is quickly losing faith that his brothers will be any help, if that was the best Cass could do. 

“No!” Azriel balks. 

“What do you mean no!” Rhys shouts, as Cassian curses and shakes his head more, this time hiding his face in his hands. 

“I mean, we… we did sleep together that first night,” Azriel amends, with a meaningful look at Cassian, who stops snickering. “But not last night.” 

“Why the hell not?” Cassian demands. 

“Is that all you can think about?” Az hedges. He honestly didn’t know why you hadn’t slept together again. He had certainly wanted to. Fuck, what he wouldn’t do for another chance to taste you, to take you back to his place– his real place this time, not the House of Wind– get you in his bed and run his hands over your thighs, and up, up, to brush his thumb through your soaking folds– 

“Brother! You’re one to talk, you’re the one going stupid at the thought of her right now!” Cass’s accusation has him cursing and forcing his mind back to this maddening conversation.  

Rhys regards him with a knowing look which does little to comfort him. The two males across the counter share another meaningful glance. Azriel runs his hand through his hair, he was going to lose his mind if they kept up their silent conversation. 

I’m right here, assholes, he projects into their minds down the bridges Rhys had established centuries ago. Typically, they reserved their use for business, but clearly the High Lord and his Commander had no qualms using their privileged mental bridge to serve their busybody purposes. 

Rhys has the decency to cringe, but Cassian dismisses his insult with the ease of one perfectly aware of his gold certified status as an ass. 

“What did you do to her, Az?” Cass scorns. 

“Okay. So dinner was good. That’s a good start,” Rhys interjects, suddenly playing the diplomat again as his brothers’ fists begin to curl. “What did the two of you talk about?” he prompts helplessly. 

“Just… things.” 

Cassian swears again at Azriel’s curt response, and even as his temper flares, Azriel sees how weak his answer is. “Okay! Okay. We… Well, she talked about her life back in Day. I asked her a lot about her work, and how their recovery efforts are progressing.”

Rhys nods, encouraging him.

“And I asked how she felt about the security of Day, since a myriad of threats remain unchecked, after everything, and since they don’t discriminate between courts but could affect any of us-” 

Cassian groans, and Rhys winces. 

“What! She cares about her people, I was trying to be attentive!” Az defends.

“Brother. It sounds like you were doing recon,” Rhys gently explains. 

Az opens his mouth, then closes it.

“You grilled her about the status of her court’s border security,” Cass adds bluntly. 

“I did not… grill her,” Azriel manages. “I just… fuck. Fuck!” he lets out. “Damn it! I was asking her about her interests,” he helplessly repeats. 

Cassian and Rhys just look at him with pity. 

He scowls, accepting that the dinner conversation was perhaps not as free flowing as things had been at Rita’s. Still, he’d have sworn that you’d enjoyed the evening. He looks up at his brothers, desperation written on his face. “What do I do?”

“Did you make plans to see each other again?” Cass asks hesitantly, a rare sign that he’s taking this seriously after all. 

“No,” Azriel admits, “but she did say she’d like to see me again,” he adds, much to his brothers’ relief. 

Rhys claps his hands together, capturing their attention, his shoulders squaring as he assumes his role as their sovereign strategist. “Alright. We can work with that,” he claims. “How do we go from here? What are the facts?”

“First, we have established that Az is an idiot,” Cassian chirps helpfully. 

“Right,” Rhys confirms, and Azriel just rubs his temples. This was just like their young days at the training camp, only without the license to punch Cassian for mouthing off. “What else?” 

“She wants to see him again.” Azriel opens his eyes and flashes a grateful smile at his brother, who ruins the moment by adding suggestively- ”Or at least she wants to see part of him again.” 

Rhys sighs, mentally reaching out to Feyre to tell her that she’ll have to handle their mid-morning appointments solo. Everything okay? she responds. He replies wordlessly with the scene in front of him, his brothers bickering over their breakfast, Cass creating an impressively explicit insult with a chocolate pastry and Az returning in kind. 

By the afternoon though, the three males have come up with a respectable plan to salvage Azriel’s tenuous connection with you. 

✸✸✸ 

You’re surprised when you see a shadow slip along the stacks toward your spot barricaded in a corner of the Night Court’s library, poring over some dense tomes. They’re full of oblique explanations that reference texts that are equally inaccessible, even to you in your expertise. You’d just about decided it was time for a break when you see the shadow approach. 

It curls around your hand in an affectionate welcome. As warmth flares in your chest, a note materializes, a welcomely legible message compared to the books you’d been buried in. You look around, despite the silent and largely empty library. 

No one is present to witness your blush as you lightly stroke the first line. The note is addressed to your name in a neat script. 

I’m writing with regard to my concern that you’ve had too grand an impression of my court , it reads. You can hear Azriel’s wry tone in the clear letters. 

First the high class of Rita’s, then the dizzying heights of Velaris’ fine dining last night. You smile at his dry, self deprecating words. Your heart thunders as you continue reading. 

I’d like to amend this most grievous picture with a far less elegant evening. Would you be available to join me for dinner tonight? Same time, and meet me at my place instead. 

Please respond at your leisure. I would very much like to see you again–

–He’s included an address and signed merely with an initial, a sloping A , that you trace as you mull over his words. 

His place? That last line too, I would very much like to see you again , seems less neat than the rest of his writing, almost hastily scrawled. As if it had been an afterthought. Or as if he’d been nervous to pen it? 

You shake your head at his shadow twirling around your wrist, the messenger seemingly in no rush. You’d been confused after your date with the shadowsinger, and now even more so. He wanted to see you again. 

The date last night hadn’t been bad. You’d certainly had worse experiences. 

He had shown up right on time to pick you up from your doorstep, sweetly admiring you as you’d shakily locked up your place. When you’d caught his hungry gaze, that still novel thrill had shot through you, and you couldn’t help your smile. You’d been excited, and that feeling remained sparkling in your chest as you’d wound your way through the city towards the spot he’d picked out. 

The meal you’d shared had been amazing, you were impressed with the whole affair. Azriel had looked indecently handsome in a soft black tunic and sleek charcoal pants, his siphons simmering ultramarine. You’d noticed he wore heavier leather boots… 

“Nice boots,” you’d complemented with a small smirk. 

“Thank you,” he had spoken sincerely, without marking your innuendo. 

You’d meant it as a small temperature check, delicately referencing your previous frenzied hook up where you’d neglected to take off your shoes for the first couple rounds. 

Either Azriel had missed your meaning, or he was establishing a boundary. You didn’t imagine the spymaster missed much, so you took it as an indication that he didn’t want to explicitly discuss what had happened between you. 

Even that was confusing, since his eyes had still gravitated towards your lips, followed the movements of your throat, and beheld you with a ferocity you couldn’t tear yourself away from. 

You held your tongue, though, about the research you’d done on how to get freaky with a winged individual. Honestly, that was probably for the best, you reflect, given how your sources were anecdotal at best. But damn! You’d done your due diligence, and you were hoping it would come in handy eventually. 

Azriel had been kind to the staff, who did their best to conceal how unnerved they were by his presence. He’d been perfectly well mannered, you’d enjoyed picking his mind about court security and his entertaining stories about his family. Overall, it had felt like your conversation at Rita’s, free flowing and comfortable. You trace the evening in your mind now, finding it more complex than the books you’d been dissecting all morning. 

You were used to speaking your mind, so you had planned to tell him directly that you’d like him to fuck you again, please and thank you . 

And when he hadn’t responded to your lingering touches, or your meaningful looks, you figured it was the same pattern as last time; where his respectful attitude demanded he unleash his passion only slowly and incrementally as the night progressed. After he’d walked you home and you’d told him what a great time you’d had at dinner, you’d even gone so far as to invite him up to your place. 

But he had declined. 

The male who you thought had been undressing you with his eyes the whole way back had dodged your invitation, citing an early morning. You’d been so blindsided that you’d just accepted it. 

Azriel had kissed you then, confusing you more as his hot mouth worked yours in a riveting connection. Then he had simply pulled away, his hazel eyes molten in the dark.  

“I’d like to see you again.” 

You cringe, recalling your words to him as he’d bade you good night. But he had seemed to practically preen at that, his shadows making lazy, arrogant circles around the horns at the apex of his wings. 

So, all things considered, perhaps this note before you shouldn’t be a total surprise. 

You’ll just have to talk directly with him, you reason. And the best way to do that will be to see him in person tonight. You briefly pen your enthusiastic agreement to send off with the shadow before returning to your work, heart a little lighter. 

Azriel smiles as his shadow appears, depositing his note with your neat reply. 

I look forward to seeing you tonight. Should I wear my boots? He laughs, spine tingling at his memory of you and those godsdamned shoes. He makes a note to remember to take them off of you tonight. If he’s so lucky… 

✸✸✸ 

Azriel considers himself luckier than he deserves when you actually show up at his place that evening. You look resplendent, he thinks, starlight dusting your hair. Much to his embarrassment, his shadows swarm you the instant he opens his front door to your confident knock. He silently curses them and wills them to behave. 

“They say hello, as well,” he says after greeting you. 

“Hello to you too, then, you handsome little devils,” you flirt shamelessly with his shadows.

“Don’t encourage them,” Az chides affectionately, watching them as they double back to twirl in your hair and brush along your cheek. “They’re insufferable enough as is.” 

You just laugh at their antics, flattered by their attention. 

Quite frankly, you’re charmed. You couldn’t find any information on shadowsingers in your brief search on the topic. You aren’t sure how they work or how they speak to him, but you do know that you like them. The more you interact with them, you can sense their personality. 

“You look beautiful,” he offers. 

He takes your jacket, manners impeccable as he crisply hangs it on the back of his door.

“Thank you,” you blush, slyly admiring his wings as he’s turned away. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” 

You’re fooling no one. Azriel looks good. Really good. He’s handsome enough to win a best dressed contest naked, but this outfit works for him too. His sleek vest is a deep green, the first hint of color you’ve seen on him. It complements his eyes well, bringing out their gold. You’re enjoying his exposed forearms too, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

You had caught the faint scent of citrus and cedar as you’d brushed past him to step inside. Your body is activated by the scent, recalling how it had lingered on his pillows. Overwhelmed by the pleasant picture, you swallow the memory. 

Before he can catch you checking him out, you catch a mouthwatering aroma. 

“Did you cook?”

His bashful look has your heart melting as he leads you to his kitchen. Indeed, the male had cooked a glorious meal. The dishes themselves aren’t particularly rich fare, but the volume is definitely more than two can pack away. He's gone all out.

As you marvel at his production, it strikes you how surreal this is, how extraordinary. You’re here. In his kitchen. The famed shadowsinger has made you roast fowl from scratch. 

To distract yourself from the absurdity of the picture, you focus on the details. There's herbs tied up in bundles hanging from his shelves. You get a glance inside one cabinet as he grabs a bottle of wine, and, unsurprisingly, their contents are very neat.

“I’m impressed.”

“That’s the general idea,” he winks as he pours you a nice glass.  

This was one step of his preparation for the evening. One key element of a winning battle was the location, situating your forces in the most optimal position. Now, his simple task is to figure out how to build a beautiful, long lasting relationship with a brilliant female out of a fancy goose carcass and herb potatoes. He grits his teeth. The night isn’t nearly over yet. 

You accept the drink with thanks.

“So, this is your place?” 

Azriel just nods. 

“So, did you rent that palace temporarily, or?” you try again. 

“Oh, that was the House of Wind.”

You raise your eyebrows at the lack of explanation. “It sure was windy.”

He catches your question then, “Oh- sorry, yes. It’s essentially our, that is, the court members’, public house-” he launches into the explanation you’d been looking for. 

You’d imagined he would be more comfortable in his own home, but he seems uneasy. The male remains as inscrutable as ever. You hadn’t realized how much you usually rely on nonverbal cues to read people. He is so reserved– by training– and also obscured– literally, by shadows. 

As you chat amiably about the city and its organization and his confusing housing situation, he leads you to his sitting room. You were surprised at your nerves even as you converse easily, typically you weren’t so easily ruffled. Then again, it’s been a while since you’d been so swept up by someone. 

“It’s nice,” you say, looking around the room. 

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s cozier than the palace was, the sweeping views exchanged for a comfortable and surprisingly cheerful atmosphere. The furniture is cushy, but practical, sturdy. 

“I know it’s not much like the palace,” he reads your mind. 

“No, I like that it's cozier. I just don’t know how you fit in the door,” you joke, gesturing vaguely at his scale, between his muscled form and looming wings. He laughs at that, and you banter back and forth about what a pity it is that there’s such a lack of Illyrian sized accommodations. Your shared laughter fades into a silence only broken by the crack of logs burning slowly in his hearth, crumbling voicelessly into embers. 

You let the moment stretch, taking the moment to appreciate the relaxed evening ahead of you, unwinding from your long day at work. 

Azriel, meanwhile, is counting the remaining threads of his sanity on one hand. Give him a fistfight. Give him an enemy regime to infiltrate. But gods save him from making conversation with a female he likes. He thought the relaxed setting would be more casual, but his chest is still tight as he tries to behave normally. Maybe this was a bad idea…

The pleasant silence continues to grate on Azriel, until he crumbles. “We can eat whenever,” he says, breaking the spell. He curses himself for his cowardice, sidestepping whatever was growing in the lingering quiet between you. 

“This is nice, though,” you say into your wine, undeterred. It really is good stuff. You aren’t a sommelier but you know a drinkable vintage when it hits your tongue. 

“Yeah,” he relaxes somewhat into the couch next to you again. 

Hazel eyes meet yours, the fire from the hearth flickering in their reflection. You really are enjoying the peaceful atmosphere with him. His hair is styled a little differently than you remember, the waves flopping in a charming swoop across his forehead rather than brushed back. Your gaze dips to his lips, damp with wine. His pupils expand almost imperceptibly as they track the movement, like prey scenting a threat. 

A loud knock interrupts your mooning. 

Azriel frowns, one of his shadows streaking off to investigate the front door. His scowl deepens before his scout even returns, as the knocking continues, adamant. 

“One moment,” Azriel says reluctantly, with an apologetic look as he stands. You nod, your attention on his tense form, his wings obscuring the door as he whips it open. 

“What are you doing here?” you hear Azriel hiss. 

“Rhys has no good wine left,” Cassian whines as he brushes past Azriel at the door. “Oh, hello again!” he says to you with a winning smile as he emerges from the entryway, somehow edging around the imposing shadowsinger. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, but not weakly, looking to Azriel for your cues. His face is unreadable, a dark storm clouding his features once more. 

“Wait up, you brute!” a female voice speaks, and Azriel’s face darkens further as a stunning female pushes her way in. You recognize her from the bar, she was one of the group Az had pointed out as his family. Mor , her name surfaces in your mind. She was the one who brought them all to Rita’s frequently. 

You could guess why she might prefer that particular spot, as her eyes rake over you. She flicks her hair flirtatiously. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she says boldly, extending a hand as you rise from Azriel’s couch, making your way to join them at the front of the room. You tell her your name, and she flashes you a smile, all teeth as she bites her lip. 

“Mor,” she offers. 

“Yes– it’s nice to meet you officially. Azriel has told me a bit about all of you,” you admit. 

“Really?” she says with genuine interest, looking at the shadowsinger curiously. Her mind seems to be working at top speed as she takes in the two of you, him sulking by the open door and you standing comfortably by the entryway to his sitting area, your glass of wine by his couch half empty. 

“Yes, well,” Azriel begins, trying to reel in his invading family, “we were just about to eat, so–”

“Yes, why don’t you join us!” you suggest. You miss Cassian’s shit eating grin and Azriel’s shocked expression as you turn to Mor. 

“We would hate to intrude,” Cassian lies. He’s schooled his face into one of total propriety, a convincing facade only to you. 

“No, it’ll be fun!” you encourage, finally looking to Azriel. 

You feel bad to take charge, but he is giving you no clues. Welcoming his family seems like a safe play. Even if they were crashing your date, you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious to get to know them after the bits and pieces Az has shared. 

Plus, you’d seen the way his eyes had flashed with alarm when you’d glanced at his lips. Maybe he’d be glad of the diversion... 

“If you insist,” Cassian drawls at the same time as Mor asks “What’s that smell?”

You grab her arm cheerfully to lead her into the kitchen, eagerly sharing about the enticing meal Az had prepared. 

Azriel grabs Cassian, holding him hostage in the entryway as the two females disappear into his home. “This was not the plan!” he spits in a furious whisper.

“It wasn’t your plan,” Cassian corrects in his most infuriating tone: superiority. 

Azriel just growls at him as they move inside, shooting him a look that says Don’t fuck this up for me . 

Cassian’s silent reply comes with mock innocence, Who, me?  

Azriel’s lethal retort is snuffed out as he registers your laugh from around the corner. “Be nice!” is all Az manages before he steps into the kitchen to investigate what potentially devastating story Mor is telling to make you laugh like that. Why did Cassian think that he needed babysitting? 

His anger bluffs as he takes in your red face, your grinning laughter directed at him. He can’t bring himself to feel upset when you’re giggling like a fool in his kitchen.  

“Did you really steal this wine from Amren on a dare?” you wheeze gleefully, hefting the open bottle with newfound interest. 

He mirrors your grin, “What kind of spy would I be if I admitted to it?”

You and Mor squeal at his response, she starts yelling at him that Of course he did it, he could never back down from a dare , and Cassian is laughing now too, butting in to tell you his side of the story, to explain his most elegantly devised dare, as Mor slaps his chest and reminds him about the many shots that had contributed to its flawed design. Azriel takes in the scene, so chaotic and so not what he had planned. You catch his eye from across the small room, your eyes shining with mirth. 

You seem perfectly at home, pouring two extra glasses of wine for your unexpected guests. He shakes his head affectionately, surrendering to the new program for the evening. 

As he sets the table for you and his family, he tries to remember why he was so angry just moments ago. That fire has faded to warmth, calm radiating from his chest at the familiar scene before him. 

Cassian seats himself first, and then Mor insists on sitting next to you, so Azriel ends up facing you across the table. You give him a small smile, a brief look meant just for him, as his brother piles food onto his plate with gusto. You see Azriel swallow his annoyance, his face betraying that he’d cooked those fucking rosemary potatoes for you, not Cass. They’re passed to you next, and you see him relax as you dish yourself a generous portion. As the dishes rotate, the smell of the simple feast nears heavenly. 

The chatter pitches higher too, Cassian asking you about Day and Mor describing the miracle that must have resulted in Azriel’s culinary art. Question after question is posed to you, apparently they find you as fascinating as you find them. 

This is nothing like you’d pictured, you think, as insults and compliments are exchanged around you. And you had pictured it, what meeting Azriel’s family would be like. What else were you supposed to do with yourself last night, having been declined sex after a nice date? 

It had been a clunky vision, more so based on your experiences with the formal dinners you’d attended for work than with meeting a partner’s friends and family. 

You’d struggled to picture how you could possibly connect with his inner circle, elite as they were. The daydream had been promptly abandoned after you’d failed to conjure anything remotely pleasant. Azriel was always charming as ever in the imagined scenarios, but you’d not factored in the wholly unpretentious warmth he has with his closest friends. 

You see that tenderness now as he rolls his eyes at the two imposing faeries, the pair of them representing a significant part of his family. A memory flashes in your mind at the sight, a memory of tenderness when he’d been admiring you in bed that morning a handful of days ago. But they'd all known each other for centuries. You’d known him for a handful of days. Was it foolish of you to dream that you’d earn a place in his world? You thought of the small case of belongings you’d brought with you from Day. Suddenly, it felt paltry, lacking, especially as you pictured your friends and work back at home. 

But who cares if your presence here is inconsequential in the long run? It matters to you that you are here now, and you’re pretty sure it matters to Azriel. You reaffix your smile, deciding to enjoy the moment you’re in. 

“Azriel is a total ladykiller,” Mor cackles, and you regret having zoned out during this particular story. Azriel snorts at her words, but you blush at their partial truth. 

“Yeah,” Cassian catches your attention by speaking your name in a questioning tone, “Can you fight?” 

“Only verbally,” you confess, a little nervous to admit it to your current company of seasoned warriors. 

Cassian grunts in acknowledgement, nonjudgmental. He narrows his eyes, humor dissipating as he assesses you. “We can work with that,” he decides, suddenly sounding serious. “I can teach you the basics, but Azriel might want to show you the more advanced maneuvers himself,” he says with a wink. 

Azriel blushes and glares at the innuendo, while Mor laughs around her bite. Yet the depth behind Cassian’s proposal strikes you. His offer assumes that you’ll be sticking around. 

“I’d like that,” you accept, smiling at the general next to you. 

Azriel feels his chest go weightless at your words, like he’s soaring high above the atmosphere. He flashes his brother a grateful look before clearing his throat. 

“Don’t go easy on her, Cass. She’s lying,” Azriel warns, with a mischievous glance at you. Your shadowsinger has certainly lost whatever hesitation he had earlier, his bold words matching his newfound audacity. “She was totally squaring up with some dipshit at Rita’s before I intervened.” 

You gape at him as Cass and Mor squawk. The two of them launch into an intense interrogation, demanding the full story. 

As you recall the evening in question, you feel yourself precariously close to an embarrassing blush. The mortal blow comes when Azriel laughs, the sound noon-bright and ringing, buzzing loud as gossip.   

Eventually, after several more glasses of wine, with empty plates to match, Azriel disentangles you from Mor and Cassian’s endless chatter. You’re reluctant to see your new friends leave, and the amused male only successfully ushers them out after you make Cassian swear to keep his promise to teach you to fight. Content, you wish everyone a good night and thank them for their warm welcome to the Night Court. 

Once the door closes, Azriel heaves out a good natured sigh. 

“What were you and Mor whispering about just now?” you pry, still giddy in the wake of your departed company. You liked them a lot, and you like who Azriel became around them, as laid-back as a seasoned spy could be. 

“She was telling me how my head might end up on a pike if I don’t watch myself,” he responds drily, and you notice him rub his temple harshly with a knuckle. 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out.

His brows furrow, “Why?” 

“I totally invited them to stay when it wasn’t my place,” you explain, shaking your head in regret. “Did I totally ruin our date?” 

“Well I ruined the last one,” he says with humor, “so it was your turn.”

“What? No you didn't!” you defend him. 

You’re shocked by his candid words. The date had been a bit awkward at the end, but it wasn’t a disaster in your eyes. 

“Yes, I did.”

“What do you mean?” you search as you walk back into the kitchen to start cleaning up, “Like how we didn’t have sex?” Azriel chokes, his humor vanishing as you continue, “I was going to ask about that, but I figured it was a topic we should address privately.”

“Thank you for that small mercy,” he recovers. His shadows betray his agitation, floating jerkily around his shoulders in a confused dance. 

You realize with a start that he’s nervous. The war hardened fighter is unnerved by a conversation about sex. 

You’d really meant to ask earlier, but it wasn’t going to happen in front of Cass and Mor. The conversation at dinner had been enthusiastic and expansive, lighthearted at every turn. You’d assumed its levity was due to the fact that you were new, unfamiliar company. Now, seeing Azriel fight demons to self-reflect, you wonder if he ever really opens up to anyone, even his closest family members. 

In all fairness, you aren’t exactly thrilled to talk about it either. You're nervous too, painfully aware that there’s an obvious explanation as to why he didn’t sleep with you again. 

 The male sighs again at your inquisitive look, his hands scrubbing over his face like he can wipe away his confusion. His brows furrow. “I honestly don’t know why we didn’t,” he says quietly. 

You’re surprised at his answer. You’d expected more substance. 

“I wanted to, you know,” you admit, pride be damned. If you were going out, you wanted to leave all your cards on the table. 

“Really?” He mirrors your surprise. “I did too. I wanted you so badly, it scared me.” 

You look at the battle scarred warrior, unimpressed. Even slouching, which he never did, he would still stand at least a good head above you. 

You ask with disbelief, “ I scared you ?”

“Well… not exactly like that,” he explains, and he reaches out carefully to grasp your hand in his large palm. “I guess I was being… cautious. I wanted to be respectful.” 

His words shatter something fledgling in your heart. That was practically code for I’m trying to be nice, I don’t want to lead you on .  

“Oh.” You drop his hand, bracing yourself for the dreaded sting of rejection. 

As he sees your expression harden, Azriel curses himself inwardly. This isn’t going the way he’d strategized it at all. His forehead creases as he desperately tries to remember the points he and his brothers had mapped out to help him with this exact conversation. Maybe Cassian was right to spare him from being alone with you, if he’s fucked it up this quickly. 

Azriel thinks back to the previous night, when he had declined your invitation to come upstairs. He’d seen the chill on your face, a chill from his own closed door. You hadn’t pushed his boundaries. Rhys had pointed out to him that from his behavior, you probably couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Hell, even from inside his own head, Azriel was struggling to work out his thoughts. 

The gravity of his attraction to you is concerning. It was a dangerous thing, the weight of it as great and terrible as a sword in his hands. 

He wants your affection, he realizes. The trouble is: asking the spymaster to share his innermost secrets is like asking a busybody to keep just one. It went against his nature. 

He pictures you as you were when he first saw you, gearing up for a fight at Rita’s. You’d been fearsome as ever, confronting the challenge rather than running. He wills himself the same bravery. He is a fearsome warrior, he absolutely refuses to allow mere emotion to make him a coward. 

“I need you to understand something,” Azriel breathes, his wings tight as his expression. “I can’t do this if it’s just sex.” 

You set down a dish heavily, your once sun-soaked heart breaking. 

“If you, uh, don’t want this, that’s, that’s fine. I respect that,” you affirm, even as you’re reeling.

But then Azriel is shaking his head and wiping under your eyes, which you belatedly realize with embarrassment must mean that you’re crying. He’s trying to tell you how he feels and you’re crying on him. Gods! Get it together! you berate yourself. 

“No, no, no. Angel, look at me,” Azriel panics. You meet his gaze, and you see a tenderness there, as ripe and sweet as the summer plums you used to pick with your mother as a child. “Shit, I’m doing this all wrong,” he curses. 

“I can’t do casual,” he confesses, head still shaking, eyes gone glossy. 

“That’s okay, I get it if you don’t want this–”

“No! No, you don’t get it,” he interrupts, swearing and speaking your name with exasperated affection. “I do want this. I want you .”

You gasp, teeth kissing the air as he continues. 

“I want you. You said it wasn’t your place to invite them to stay tonight, but I want it to be your place. Fuck, I want to see you every day. I want to come home to you, and to know you’re waiting for me when I’m gone. And some days I want to wait for you too, and get jealous of the books you spend your time with.”  

You try to say something clever like What the fuck? or Huh? but you’re too shocked to do much more than stare open mouthed as he lays out his emotions for you. At least you’ve stopped crying. 

Azriel is looking at you as if you were personally responsible for every ounce of goodness he’s ever witnessed. It scares the shit out of you. How could he say all that? He doesn’t even know you. It doesn’t help that three seconds ago you thought he was going to kick you out. 

“Why me?” you finally manage. 

“I’ve never felt this way before,” he says, unblinking. 

In a total inversion of all Azriel had ever known, he felt an overwhelming impulse to bare his soul to you. You’d never been scared of him, even when he’d put on his most frightening persona at the bar. You’d taken his identity in stride, you’d even used it to flirt. 

He wants you to know him, he realizes. All of him. Even the darkest parts, the cruel, mean pieces with which he wouldn’t want to burden anyone but himself. For some unknown reason, at this moment, he can think of no greater honor than your involvement in his world, his reality, ugly as it may be. He hopes you’ll want it. 

He takes your hand and places it on his heart, gripping it over his chest. When he speaks, his voice is ragged, tender and raw. 

“You must know. You burn me,” Azriel confesses. “Surely you feel how you burn me.” 

What you feel is your heart in your throat, pulsing erratically at his words. The naked truth on his face frightens you. 

Your free hand reaches out to caress his high cheekbone as your mind whirls. His eyes close at the contact, his lips parted in silent prayer. 

“I feel it too.”

When your thumb brushes the edge of his bottom lip, those hazel eyes flutter open again. The energy between you is thicker than it was moments ago, something fresh set smoldering in his gaze. His chest heaves under your other palm. 

“You do?” he gasps, and you nod, words failing under the enormity of your emotion. 

He’s equally choked up, so he opts for actions instead, pulling you against him to capture your lips in a messy kiss. It’s all wine-breath and teeth, but it’s perfect. 

Your uncontrollable smile forces you to break away, and when you do he’s smiling at you just the same. His joy is infectious. For a long moment, you just smile at each other like fools, breathing each other's air in the sacred ambiance of the dim kitchen light. You linger in the quiet awe in the wake of your confessions.

When your mouths reconnect, the kiss turns feverish. It’s insatiable, your desire for him, as you suck his tongue, earning a satisfying whine from the hulking Illyrian. 

“Shit,” he groans as he lifts you.

You gasp as your weight shifts off your feet, and he sets you against his counter before reconnecting your panting mouths.  The insufferable Illyrian pushes one of his thighs between your legs, capturing your muffled groans with his warm mouth, tonguing away your soft cries. 

“Make me yours,” you whisper.

“Shit, baby, I think I’d do anything you ask if you say it just like that,” he whines against your mouth. 

He pulls away, standing between your legs like it's a place of special honor. 

“Bedroom?” he begs, shining with unchecked joy.

“Yes,” you eagerly agree. “We can break in the kitchen counter later.” His laughter rattles down the hallway as he carries you to his room. 

Once you’re through the doorway, his movements pause. A tender note hums to life amidst the excitement of your newfound connection. There’s a tender look on his face as he regards you with equal parts lust and affection. It’s a serious step for him, to have you here in his most personal place. 

You’re distracted by the new space as soon as he sets you down, fascinated with his room– his personal room, not the one kept for him at the House of Wind. It’s sparsely decorated, too, but there’s knick knacks and weapons lying around in characteristically organized fashion. 

“A lot of weapons…” you comment, humor bubbling up from your delight at the novelty of his affection and attention. 

There’s several swords on the wall, artfully placed in the columns between windows, and knives and spears are displayed in tasteful and accessible ways. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was compensating for something. Is that a halberd? you think. The last time you saw a halberd was in an illustration on an ancient manuscript. 

“What do you do for work again?” you joke.

He laughs, “I’m afraid the tools come with the trade.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but, I mean, seriously. That one?” You gesture above the balcony doors, where a grossly oversized sword rests. “Come on, Az!”

“Come on, I bet your place is full of books!” he counters.

You just scoff, so he knows he’s right.

“Come here,” he says, fondly. “You can inspect my quarters later, you freak.”

“Your freak,” you correct. 

“My freak,” he agrees. 

With that, Azriel grabs your waist, and pulls you in for a sumptuous kiss. The wine on his tongue goes right to your head, while the warmth of him goes due south. You pull away to tug meaningfully at his shirt, but he just follows to place expert kisses along your jaw. His work is so severe that you gasp–

“Shit, Az, I'm not paying you!” 

“Are you calling me a whore?” he answers playfully, unfastening his shirt at the back under his wings. He sucks on his teeth, pulling away to look you in the eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, actually. The payment didn’t go through last time–”

“Oh, no–”

“–yeah, so if you could, perhaps, pay in hard gold this time, that would be–”

“Ah, okay. Could you do a payment plan?–” the two of you banter while he shrugs off his vest. You relish the view of his exposed chest. 

He plays into your shameless ogling, flexing to show off his whorling tattoos and the dark hairs trailing down beyond his leathers. The faelights surrounding the room cast a glow through the thin membrane of his wings, softly limning his form with warmth. You laugh at his peep show, but the sound is pitchy with your arousal. The toned male blushes. His easy humor may have returned, but vestiges of his shy personality still remain. 

You whistle softly, continuing to torture him with your attention. His blush deepens impossibly. He’s just so easy to tease, and when he reacts like that, it's easier still to justify. 

“Your turn,” he says, voice gravelly. 

“What first?” you muse suggestively, smoothing down your dress. 

“Boots,” he chooses. 

Before you can toe them off, Azriel sinks suddenly to the floor. The sight of him on his knees before you sends a thrill up your spine. 

Azriel, this most fearsome Illyrian, is totally surrendered to you. Heat throbs through your abdomen at the sight. He’s looking up at you through his lashes, his throat bobbing in anticipation as he pants below you. You haven’t even touched him yet, but his passion is evident, his eyes wild.

He gently grabs the back of your shins. “May I?”

“Please.”

He effortlessly unlaces your boots with capable hands. 

“I’m surprised you want them off,” you tease as he grasps your hands to steady you as you step out of them. 

“You look so sexy in them,” he agrees. “I am making a real sacrifice here, for your comfort.” His hand skims up the back of your calf, brushing your dress over your knee with his thumb. He places a kiss directly on your knee, heat flaring in your stomach at the soft brush. 

“You look sexy in this too,” he compliments. His eyes never leave yours as he hauls himself up, you dress falling back to cover your legs. 

“Would you be mad if I asked you to take it off?” His tone is toying, but his eyes are pools of hot desire. 

“Don’t be an ass,” you rasp, mad only with anticipation. 

Azriel slips two fingers under the straps on your shoulders, kissing your chest as he tugs them down your arms. You’re honestly impressed that he finds the hidden zipper at your side. Nothing escapes him, does it? 

His hands come to brush along your freshly exposed skin, whispering praises into your hot flesh. After he peels off your dress with zeal, you raise a finger in warning. 

“Be careful with that. I actually want it back!”

“I promise I won’t lose it this time.” 

“Your promise is nothing to me! You never found my shirt, huh?” 

“No,” he confesses with an exaggerated air of regret, blowing out his lips in sympathy. Your eyes narrow at his suspicious behavior. 

“How do I know that you didn’t just steal it like a creep so you could jack off with it or something?” you say with mock sensuality. 

“I wish,” he hums, thumbing the discarded material of your shimmering dress as if you’ve given him a brilliant idea. “Honestly, that would have helped me out the other night.”

Azriel freezes, his eyes widening as he realizes his slip. Your grin mirrors his horror at his admission. A dull ache blooms anew below your stomach. 

“Did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” you breathe. 

“Maybe.” 

His voice is thick even as he squirms under your riveted look. His wings flutter briefly before relaxing as he spots the excitement on your flushed face.  

“Fuck,” you groan. “That's hot. Please don’t be embarrassed, that’s so flattering!”

Your words do nothing to prevent the hot flush spreading across his cheeks and chest. You push him to the bed, giggling when he falls onto the cushions dramatically before unceremoniously shucking off his pants. 

He makes grabby hands at you, and you melt at the sight of him, disheveled and unarmed, and as excited as you were. He pulls you towards him, bringing you to rest on his bare thigh. 

You kiss his sternum, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“I want you to show me.” 

Azriel pauses, and his breathing goes a little uneven. 

“Show you?” he repeats, his eyes blown out as you rub encouraging circles into his shoulder from your perch on his thigh.  

“I want you to touch yourself,” you purr. “Show me how you like it.”

His brows twitch, his eyes going predatory under heavy lids.

“It might be your last opportunity for a while, since I’m gonna be pretty fucking jealous of that hand if it steals too much time in my territory,” you admit with a meaningful glance towards his crotch. 

He laughs at that, but it doesn’t dampen the flame in his vision. 

“Okay,” he murmurs devilishly. “Get comfortable.”

It will be a cold day in hell when Azriel denies such a request from you.

He makes a show of shifting to rest comfortably against the cushions, his wings extending lazily to drape across the pillows and trailing to the floor. The wide expanse of his chest shines in the low faelight, his swirling tattoos prominent even in the dimness. The hard ridges of his muscles contract rhythmically in time with his powerful lungs. His nipples are hard, he shivers in the slight chill as he rubs a hand through his dark hair, tugging roughly. 

You come to rest just above his knee on his left thigh, essentially kneeling in the center of his bed. The slight contact has you boiling as you watch him trail a hand along his torso, one hand still teasing his hair. Your focus trails his toned abdomen down to his prominent arousal. 

“Well you won’t have to use your imagination, like I did, for the first part,” he begins lowly, “because, if you must know, I was already this hard before I could get out of my leathers.”

  If you weren’t dripping already, you are now. You’d been joking earlier, but this show really was worth some hard gold. Anyone would kill to see the fearsome Illyrian splayed out like this. 

Azriel hisses as he strokes slowly down his abs, his chest rising and falling in a tortured cadence. After some time stimulating himself in this way, his moans become breathy. 

With one hand, he deftly pulls himself out of his undershorts, and you can’t help yourself from reaching out to slide them a little further down his hips. Your mouth falls open at the sight of his sharp hip bones and the delicious stretch leading to the base of his heavy cock. 

Its red tip bobs temptingly at your knee, but you restrain yourself. You shift slightly, looking for some relief, and your knee accidentally brushes the edge of his wing. His hips buck involuntarily, a whine falling from his lips at the contact. 

“Shit, baby,” he cries. He hasn’t even touched himself, but his dick is straining against his stomach. 

“Sorry,” you say weakly.

“Liar,” he growls, seeing the hunger in your gaze. 

You shrug, unapologetic. Let him see what he did to you. It was his funeral at the moment.

He was focused on you, indeed, eyes roving around your naked form as he flexed his thigh beneath you. You start to circle your hips, your breasts bouncing with the sudden movement, until you hear him hum in pleasure. He was getting off from the vibration. 

“Don’t cheat,” you scold. 

He just whines, reluctantly stopping his thigh flexes. 

“Good boy. I’d hate to have to punish you, baby,” you warn.

You meant it playfully, but his breathing falters and his wings twitch. Interesting. You file the information away for another time.

His fingers catch your attention as they come to play with the soft underbelly of his cock, just under the head. He used two fingers to rub small circles on the tender flesh. The spot was right where it had landed on your tongue when you’d taken him in your mouth briefly the other night. Again, interesting. 

“This- this is supposed to be erotic,” Azriel struggles, “and you’re studying me like, like…”

“You’re a very compelling study,” you inform him in your most sensual voice as he struggles to speak.

“Fuck,” he says, “don’t tease me.” 

But you see the effect your praise has on him. His fingers finally circle his length fully, pulling short strokes at the head. The whimper that falls from your lips would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so melodic in company with his grunts and moans. His expression is so unguarded, lit as it is by ecstasy. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” you murmur. 

The shadow singer's back arches off the bed at one particularly harsh tug, his rhythm never faltering. His accuracy is almost uncanny. He must have honed the art of his pleasure with the same rigor and precision as the rest of his work. The test of the room fades as your focus is wholly captured by the male sighing below you. You’re obsessed with the unholy picture of his hand wrapped around his cock.

His shadows shift along his wings in time with his strokes. Sluggishly, you realize they must be stimulating him as well. The thought renders the ache at your core unbearable. 

Even through his euphoria, Azriel is receptive to your every expression. He sees your frustration.

“What do you need, angel,” he hums. 

You respond reflexively, your hips grinding into his thick thigh. Your face heats as you register the motion. It was just what you needed, though. You certainly didn't want him to stop what he was doing, his fist pumping wickedly.  

“Go on then,” he purrs.

The desire in his eyes encourages you to resume the motion, rocking your pelvis against the solid muscle of his thigh. 

“You look so perfect,” he praises. 

“And you’re sex incarnate, Az.”

You position yourself further up his thigh, balancing on your shins as your knees brush his wingtips again. You’re rewarded with a throaty groan for your flirting. The sight and vibration of your riding his thigh has the male slowing his hand, and gripping at the base of his cock. You’re not faring any better. 

You brace yourself against his chest with your arms, both of you sensitive to the barest touch. The slight pressure on his chest has him hurtling towards the edge again. As he holds off his own strokes, he sends his shadows towards your form, your makeshift rules be damned.

The sighs you breathe are far from a complaint. His shadows lick up your form with tender phantom touches, and you feel the pleasure build in your core. Your rhythm starts to slip as you chase your release. His sculpted thigh should not be making you feel this good, but you start to see stars and you know the male can’t be fully mortal.

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he pants, as enthralled with your euphoria as he is with his own. 

You barely register his praises as your orgasm shatters you, his shadows licking along with the pleasure racing through your body. As the waves wrack you, he drinks in your scrunched features, the soft cavity of your gasping mouth. You meet his eyes as you hurtle over the edge, the image of his carnal devotion seared into your mind. It would be unnerving if it wasn’t such a reflection of your own feral interior.   

“That was so hot,” Azriel praises. 

“Pervert. You were supposed to be giving me a show,” you pant, frowning as you catch your breath. 

“I think I gave you a proper show, if that was your reaction.” 

He’s earned a smug attitude, you figure. Your vision is still a little blurry, but you feel his shadows and fingers rubbing soothing patterns along your upper thighs. A different warmth blooms as you cool down from your blistering orgasm. 

As you marvel at the intimacy of his gestures, Azriel’s head is clearing enough to fully appreciate the sight of you in his bed. 

He had been on the brink of the most mind blowing orgasm of his life, yet he doesn’t even care about the urgency he’s feeling from his dick as he commits the image of you in his room to memory. It feels so right to have you here, just like it felt right to share a drink with you at Rita’s, and to sit down for a meal with you with his family. 

Azriel reflects on the thought he’d had days ago, how he’s fallen into the gravity of powers like this before, but never in such blissful hues. His mind flashes back to battles he’s fought, the enemies he’s faced. Every time, the contact of such powers results in a brief conflict, a decisive end. The conclusion is inevitable; the force of the challenge undeniable in its strength and direction. This attraction, though. What to make of it? 

The intensity is similar– his current adrenaline certainly feels like he’s just seen someone draw a sword, but it’s different. Your power was a challenge, but an invitation too. 

The feeling is like the gravity in his gut at the beginning of a flight, when he’s leaping off of a cliff, that brief tension borne in the short moment between the stability of the ground and the strength of his wings. The feeling is prolonged, like he’s suspended there with you. 

He finds that he doesn’t mind it so much, with you there, caught up in it just as much as he is. Besides, he’s tired of keeping everyone at arm’s length, he decides. He’s always loved flying, even if he came to it later than the others. Why should love be any different?

“Can you fuck me now?”

Your unsubtle words break his delicate reverie.  Oh, he’s in serious trouble, he thinks as he sees you bite your lip. 

“I’m not going to last,” he warns. 

“Same here,” you admit. You were already feeling overstimulated, you doubt you’ll last long at his pace. “I want to feel you though.”

He presses a messy kiss to your mouth, savoring the moment. You’re just as unhurried, glad to linger in any moment with the gorgeous male below you. Strong hands guide you to straddle his hips, his legs bent slightly to support your lower back as he leans against the headboard. 

When he finally enters you, he groans lowly. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

Your response is garbled by your euphoria. What you feel is euphoric relief, his cock filling you with a satisfying burn. Despite his size, the pain is minimal, your wetness helping him slide in easily. He grips your forearms, bringing your hands to anchor on his shoulders. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” he slurs, delirious already. 

The position is intimate. As he begins to rock you over his hips, your focus falls to explore the stunning male. Azriel is so fucked out already, raw from having edged himself earlier. His body is slick with perspiration, his face set in concentration, eyes blown out. Your hands on his shoulders are broiling with his heat. 

His dark hair falls limply against the cushions, and his wings are hanging loosely, like he has no extra stamina to hold his posture. He meets your gaze, and the eye contact somehow feels even more intimate than the position you’re in. He seems entranced. The agony on his face is underscored by his attention fixed on your every move. It's like he’s seeing your soul, plucking the thread of your need and following it faithfully. 

Using his broad shoulders as leverage, you start to fuck yourself on him. You’re rewarded with a stuttering groan as his hips thrust in time to meet you. Your head falls back in pleasure when your clit is ground deliciously against the coarse hair at the base of his pelvis as you bounce on him. Between his thick cock and his hard abdomen, you're perfectly stimulated. 

The room becomes thick with the heat and scent of your sex. All of your senses are riveted to the male below you, to the pleasure being delivered to your core. Soft sighs and deep groans fill the air as you fuck at an agonizing pace. 

His hands release their death grip on your hips, moving to explore your thighs and chest. The rough sensation of his hands over your skin is fuel to the fire of your appetite. 

Desperate for somewhere to release your energy, you lean forward to connect your mouths. He hums in delight at the sudden kiss. You taste his sweat and his fervor, and it’s intoxicating. 

When you pull away, his lips are shining with spit. Azriel looks like a male possessed. 

“Shit, angel. Can we do this, like… all the time?” he begs. 

“We haven’t even– even finished, and you’re– you’re thinking about doing it again?” you manage. 

“Can you blame me?” he retorts. He emphasizes his words with a particularly vicious thrust that has you gasping. 

“Please,” you cry. “We had better do this often.”

“ Awesome ,” he cheers breathlessly with a small smile to himself. 

Your heart sputters at the sweetly boyish comment. Here he was, inside you, and he was excited at the idea of fucking you again later. It isn't just your body either, which was a major plus, but he likes you . Earlier he’d confessed that he wants more than sex. He wants to bring you into his life in a more serious way too. 

You envision yourself bringing some belongings here, working at the library during the day, dining with Azriel and his family in the evenings. And at night, he would bring you here, to his bed, where he would ravish you. You relax into his body further as you realize you’ll have many opportunities to fuck him. He’d gotten excited earlier when you’d suggested some kinkier things. And, sure, he’d laughed when you’d joked about fucking in the kitchen, but he’d not seemed opposed. 

“Are you with me?”

You blink, coming back to the present. If you were going to blame him for getting excited about future sexual escapades in the middle of fucking, you were guilty too. Thankfully, your body kept up the rhythm on reflex, cause you were just miles away in a diaphanous dream of your mutual future. 

“There she is,” he smiles at you fondly as he rocks you mercilessly onto his cock. 

His stamina was impressive. Despite your fatigue, arousal has your body pulsing with adrenaline. The familiar pressure mounts in your abdomen as you grind onto him. 

As he eases your pleasure along, he’s transfixed by the sight of your bodies meeting, your hips swallowing him into your soaking hole. The feeling of your nails scraping at his scalp plunges him further into rapture, the slight sting heightening his sensitivity. 

“I’m close,” you warn him. 

“I’m with you, angel,” he pants. “Come on, baby.”

You abandon your bouncing to grind selfishly against him, chasing your bliss. He’s content with the debauched sight and the warmth of you around him. When your hand tugs his hair again, his dick twitches. Then your fisted knuckles brush his wings ever so delicately and his hips lurch, his shadows rioting. 

Azriel is dangerously on the edge, but he’s determined to watch you unravel first, his competitive and generous spirits united under his indecent desire to see you come undone. Even as he appears depraved, he feels devoted. Your ecstasy was his own. 

One last delicious shift of his cock scraping your walls, and your release staggers you. Your eyes flutter shut as crystalized bliss shatters over you. His scent envelops you, the salt of sweat mixing with tangy citrus. It transports you to a realm of bliss, where the only presence is yours and his, a delicious meeting of your senses. 

The agonizing image of your ecstasy has him spilling inside you, his whines cresting as he climaxes. His teeth scrape yours in a sloppy openmouthed kiss. You ride out your orgasms, hips jerking erratically, waves of pleasure ebbing languidly. 

You’re left with a warm buzz, even the discomfort of your stickiness feels rather like sweetness as you take in the glorious male. When your eyes catch, his lips curl into a smile. Your heart skips a beat at the tender sight of him spent and glowing beneath you. His shadows bleed into the cushions, baring him to you completely. 

“Can I lie down?”

“Please,” he shifts to help you off of him. 

You hiss as he slips out of you. “Sorry,” he mumbles, concerned. 

“You’re good.”

“Are you okay?” His shadows rove over you, assessing for damage, and he winces at the mess between your thighs. You laugh at his concern, waving it off. 

“I feel great. Just overstimulated,” you assure him as you curl into his pillows, your muscles grateful for the break. He nods and kisses your temple. The gesture is endearing, even as your thighs burn. You pull him down to rest next to you. 

His eyes never leave yours, monitoring your movements and drinking in the image of you snuggled into his bed. You reach out to trace his features, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. It isn’t uncomfortable, you’re just so overloaded already; you aren’t sure you can handle its palpable energy. His skin is soft under your fingers, the fleshiness of his sharp face surprising you. Azriel hums under your soothing touch. 

The unmistakable sentiment in his gaze has you melting into the comfort of his cushions, utterly relaxed. After all the uncertainty of the past few days, the surety of this moment is crisp, intoxicating. Nothing was guaranteed, of course, but you like your odds with him. You'd never been one to back down from a challenge. 

“I thought you were going to ask me to leave,” you confess into the tender silence of the aftermath.

He frowns. “When?” 

“Before,” you explain. “Right before you told me how you felt.”

He groans, regret clouding his features. “I’m so sorry. I haven’t made things easy for you. I definitely didn’t want you to leave.” 

You shrug. You’re here now, what was passed is past. “You’re worth a little torture.” 

“Why did you think that?” he asks, ignoring your lighthearted response. He avoids your eyes, fidgeting absently with the edge of the duvet. 

“Well,” you begin, unsure of how honest to be. You opt for full truth, the words rushing out of you. “You didn’t fuck me! I was throwing eyes at you all night and things were going well–”

“Things were going well? Do you really think that?” he interrupts. “‘Cause Cass said I ‘grilled you on border security’.”

You snort at his air quotes. 

“Well, yeah,” you frown, recalling the conversation, “but only after I asked you about how recovery efforts were going here, which is kind of a killjoy topic anyways.”

“We suck at this,” he decides brightly. 

“Excuse you!” you leap to defend yourself. “I'm amazing at this– anyways! Totally not the point. You didn’t respond to my hints, so I thought maybe you’d changed your mind, and that you weren’t into me.” 

Azriel shakes his head, and his rough fingers tenderly brush your hair away from your face.

“You were way off target, cause I’m totally into you. Remind me never to hire you for intelligence,” he teases, the words affectionate. 

“In my defense, you are kind of hard to read,” you admit.

He hums, not denying it.

“Holy shit! See? I was just about to tell you off and you slithered out of it!” you look at him, equally impressed and incredulous at his evasive skills. 

Now it's his turn to be unnerved, clearly caught out by your acute perception. You’re satisfied with yourself. 

“Wow. Okay, I'll take it back, you’re hired,” he dodges. You don’t take the bait. His words make you think about his long career in intelligence. Suddenly, it makes perfect sense how he struggles with expressing himself verbally. He knew firsthand what the wrong words falling into the wrong ears could do. Pair that with whatever other… unique emotional baggage he has going on… shit. He’s probably actually very well adjusted, given everything he’s experienced. 

Shit. She’s good , he thinks as you watch him silently. It was a classic technique, one he used often in interrogations. 

He sighs. “Alright. So you may have picked up that I’m… guarded.”

“ No ,” you say with sarcasm. 

“ Yes ," he laughs, before groaning and sitting up to look you in the eyes as he continues. “I’m sorry I wasn't upfront about how I felt. Like I said, I can't do casual. So I didn't know what I was doing. I was trying to protect myself from, well, doing what I did, and spilling my guts to you.”

“You were very brave to do that,” you tell him seriously. 

He rolls his eyes.

“No, I mean it,” you press, suddenly sure of your recent revelation, desperate to assure him. “I’m glad you decided to trust me. I’m honored.”

You really are. Every glimpse you’ve gotten into his inner world has only deepened your affection for him. Strangely, you feel like you fit into his world, as new as it all is to you. 

Occasionally in your work, you would come across a book from the archives, and it would be just what you needed for your project, even though you hadn’t known it had existed. What a thrill it always was, to find a gift in the world, unasked for and unplanned. The same sweet serendipity floods your senses now, as Azriel’s eyes shine with emotion. 

“I might need you to be patient with me,” he whispers, like the words are too dangerous to handle in the open.

“Of course. Whatever you need,” you promise him. 

With that, you press a kiss to his lips, thick with feeling.

His hand grips your jaw, holding you there to convey the depth of his adoration. He strokes your face fondly.

You pull him close, and he envelops you in his strong arms and soft wings. You lay there for a while, nestled in the security of his warmth. 

“Bath?” he offers eventually.

You hum thoughtfully. “Honestly? I’m too tired to move.”

“I’ll carry you.”

A luxurious soak later, Azriel slips one of his shirts over your clean, drowsy form. Drained as you are, you keep yourself awake to watch him towel his hair dry from your place on his duvet. 

You exhale abruptly, and his attention fixes on your drawn brows. You raise them as you finally ask the question you’ve been deliberating. 

“I was just thinking… you have libraries here, right?” you search meaningfully. 

“Yes, we do,” he answers casually, lips curling into the beginnings of a smile. “There’s one just down the hall, actually.” 

“Huh?”

“Why do you ask?” Azriel continues coyly, coming to stand before you. “Are you thinking of settling down here, or something?” 

“I said, huh ?” you repeat. Does he have a home library? Oh, you’re a goner. 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” 

You shake your head in amusement. “You are so full of secrets,” you accuse.

“Full of surprises,” he corrects, rewarding you with a wide grin. 

You wonder if you’d ever reach the last of them, you muse as the lovesick Illyrian moves to make good on his words. You imagine you never will, but it sounds like a nice fate to die trying. 

After all, it seems like you’ll be needing a new hobby, now that you’ll have to give up recreational flirting. Azriel is happy to keep you occupied. 

✸✸✸ 

Later, when the night was deep, the stars shining brightly with the soft promise of new beginnings, Azriel remembers a threat that he needs to make good on. 

I’m gonna fucking kill you guys , Azriel projects to Rhys and Cassian. You’ll never see me coming. It will be long, and painful. NEVER mess with my plans – never again!

Well! Rhys' response arrives instantly, dripping with sarcasm. That sure was a delayed reaction… I hope you’ve had a productive evening.

Cassian’s reply is more direct. You’re welcome, brother dearest!  

Despite his vexation with his brothers, Azriel smiles into the dark, content as he is to have you in his arms. He thinks dimly of your face under the flashing lights at Rita’s, how close he had come to losing his nerve to speak to you, how grateful he’d been to have an excuse to talk to you, and how foolish he’d felt when he left you alone on your doorstep after your last date. 

His racing mind quiets as he traces your features, sleeping soundly in his bed. He has no intention of letting you go this time. 

_

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed!! I really fell in love with these two. It was so fun crafting their dynamic in part one, I had to expand the plot a little to allow their connection to develop more in this one. Sorry to make you read like 9k of plot and banter before the sexy part! 

Here’s a little of my thought process behind this part 2: The more I thought about it, I just realized Azriel can’t do casual relationships. 

In the books, it’s heavily implied that he pined after Mor for centuries, so like he’s a truly long-suffering loverboy. It would actually be so out of character for him to casually date. Even if he were to turn a new leaf and pursue someone, he's too guarded, too high profile to be comfortable with just a fling. If he’s in, he’s all in. 

So I was like how do we break the ice? I imagined that Cass and Rhys could sense how invested he was in Reader, and that they knew he’d flounder in his attempts to approach it casually. Devotion and quiet intensity are just so key to Azriel’s personality. I wanted to explore what it would look like if he felt the green light from someone - personally I think it would unlock some of his private nature and allow him to safely express his feelings (which we see him try for the first time here!). Normally, I don't like it when fics have a love confession after one whole date, but in this case it just felt right.  

Not to write a thesis and spend hours critically thinking so that my premises perfectly align to support my porn with plot LOL just girly things :) 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tin Soldier

Gwayne returns from Rook's Rest to King's Landing where his wife has been patiently waiting for him, knowing he would need stress relief.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, pwp idk what to tell you, ok nvm porn with feelings, gwaynes BRATTY, smut (piv, bdsm, pet play??, biting, marking, scratching), fluff can you believe that, typos, etc.

A/N: inspired by this post. i wish @barbieaemond and @targs-on-zorses a very much i hope you suffer

"Oh, praise the gods," I mutter under my breath once I spot the two knights entering through gates of the Keep. I dismiss my handmaiden and head towards them.

Gwayne and Criston spot me, the former's hardened face softens. I offer them a smile and clasp my hands, "very good. The Mother has delivered you whole." I nod in regard, "ser Criston."

The said man nods, "my-"

"You would greet another man before your husband, woman?"

I turn to Gwayne. His jaw clenches. I hold back a grin and pucker my lower lip instead, "I only wished to thank the Hand for returning my love to me with no missing limbs."

He scoffs. His horse trots in place. Gwayne does not enjoy that. He very much did not enjoy that.

"I should thank your husband for doing the same for me, my lady," Criston replies, making me turn back to him.

I smile. Gwayne dismounts. "Then I rejoice in knowing you both will return safely so long as you have each other."

A stable boy comes to get my husband's ride. He spares me no glance when he walks passed me. I turn to my feet with a chuckle, rubbing my belly that bubbled in excitement, "welcome home, ser." We share a nod before I chase after my lord.

He is walking incredibly fast.

I gather my skirts, "my lord!"

Gwayne does not stop. He only continues to storm to our shared chambers. When he reaches the stairs, I break into a sprint, laughing as I did, "lord husband!"

Needless to say, my calls fall deaf on his ears. I have to catch my breath once I enter the room.

"RETURN ME?!"

I close the door behind me, eyes not leaving my armored lover as he paces around the room. My breath hitches at the sight of him. Oh, how I missed the clanking of his steel uniform.

Gwayne turns back to me, pointing a harsh finger to the ground, "WOULD THAT I BE THE ONE RETURNED-

My eyes sparkle at his vexed expression.

"OH! IF YOU ONLY KNEW HOW COLE WAS-"

I reach for his breastplate, "twas a jest."

"Well, you jest wrongly," he glares, swatting my hands away. I press my lips together to suppress my smile. He charges towards the vanity, "you now not how insufferable that Dornishman is."

He begins to undo the cuffs on his forearm. Oh, by the Seven, he was actually upset. He never removed his own armor, not when I was present. I sigh, "Gwayne-"

"Do not-" he pulls roughly on his sleeve "-address me, woman."

I purse my lips and grab his shoulder plate. He shrugs me off dramatically and I reel back in momentary shock, only to huff and grab him by his steely collar.

He glares at me.

I raise my brows, mouth opening to start a new argument. But his face, marked with hurt, though dramatic, makes my heart tinge. I decide not to pursue it.

He recognizes this and lifts his nose. His brows quirk in challenge.

I tilt my head and sigh, "begging your pardon, my lord," I brush my hands down to the sigil on his heart, "tis distasteful to speak on matters I know not of."

Gwayne stares at me for a moment. I peer at him through my lashes, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his chest, "I submit. I wish not to quarrel."

He does not reply, but he visibly relaxes, save for the way his brows knit, "my lips."

My eyes fall to his mouth where a cut laid on the bottom corner, "yes. You've been cut." I pull away to grab some ointment for it, "we shall treat your lip again after your bath."

He watches as I go through the vials on the table. Just as I open the lid of the salve, I feel his rigid body press against my back. I look over my shoulder, gazing up at his face as he embraces me.

"You have not kissed them," he mutters, "you insult me twice, wife."

Oh, what darling. I pretend to think, "I thought I was woman."

"Wrong again," he takes the vial from me, setting it down with little attention. He turns me around and traps me against the vanity, "my woman."

He wastes no more time keeping our lips separate. Gwayne picks me by the waist and sits me on the table as his lips reacquaint themselves with mine. My body melts against him, my legs part to welcome him between and my hands sneak their way into his nape.

He pulls away, "damn this helmet."

I giggle but stop him when he tries to rid himself of it. He raises a brow then sighs, "not again."

"What?" I laugh innocently, "it suits you well."

He shakes his head but makes no further move to rid himself of his steel hat. He does however begin to bunch my skirts up. I mumble, "my tin soldier."

He groans. "Perhaps I'll fuck you in my helmet, vixen," he wraps my legs around him, "see how you like it."

I gleefully retort, "so long as you fuck me, ser-" he begins to kiss my neck, "I will be- OH!"

Gwayne sharply pulls away, face concerned.

I cover my mouth with my hands, "I'd nearly forgotten!"

He can do nothing but watch as I wrangle out of our position and shoo him away. He grumbles as I go through a drawer, "I got you a gift."

"Must you give it to me now?"

I laugh and turn back to him once I have it in my hand, "I find you will regret it if I do not give it to you sooner."

His brow quirks in interest.

I grin and motion with my head, "to the bed with you."

Gwayne is sat on the side of the bed in an instant. He eagerly looks at me. I saunter over with a look of mischief. His eyes widen when I kneel by his feet. At this point, he knew exactly what my surprise was and he simply reaches a hand out to me.

I place a bell in his palm. Gwayne releases a deep breath that breaks into an excited chuckle, "oh, my girl, you might regret this."

I simply look at him with a smile.

He stares at me, knowing then that our game had started. His lips part infinitesimally as he basks in the power he now had. He rings the bell, "you may speak your mind, pet."

"Thank you, ser."

Gwayne rings it again, "get me out of this fucking armor."

"Yes, ser," I say, coming to my feet to undo his top. I feel his eyes on me as I do so.

He releases a breath, hands coming to my side, "I have free rein on your body, do I not?"

"Of course, ser."

"Mmm," he rubs my ass then smacks it, "strip for me," he rings the bell.

I turn to him, "after I-"

"Now," he blurts.

I pull away from him and begin to undo the ties of my dress. It is a slight struggle but not impossible. Once my dress drops to the floor and I'm left in my shift, he rings his bell, "stop."

I still where I stand.

"And your smallclothes," he rings.

I oblige, pulling them and letting them drop to the floor. He reaches a hand out, ringing again, "come to me."

I take his hand and he spreads his legs. I sit on his lap and he rings, "you may proceed, pet."

I continue to undo his armor, "of course, ser."

Ring. "Kiss me as you do so."

I do not speak, only follow the command. I kiss him intermittently as I finally remove a shoulder plate. It is considerably harder to do than undoing my dress because of all the latches. I decide to prioritize undressing him, but it seems that was a mistake.

He snakes his hand up my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh, "my lips are wanting yours, pet."

"I am doing my best, se-"

"Well, try harder."

Gwayne thoroughly enjoys my struggle and unabashedly complains when I am not kissing him. I begin to grow increasingly frustrated when I prioritize kissing him yet finds it in him to complain about how hot his armor is. At some point, I begin throwing the metal I do get off him angrily to the ground.

His chuckle is deep, "careful, pet. That is your lord's armor."

"Fuck your armor," I grunt, chucking his cuffs to the floor.

He laughs and licks his lips.

"I was given permission to speak my mind, was I not? I mutter, sliding off his lap to undo the cuffs on his legs.

"I did not give you leave to leave my lap," he stares at me.

I glare at him and sit back down. He examines me for a moment, rings his bell, and chirps, "get off."

I sigh and stand.

"Uh-ta-ta-ta-ta," he grabs my arm and raises a finger. He looks up at me, shrugging, "what do we say?"

I suck in a breath and force a smile, "of course, ser. Thank you, ser."

"Good," he raises the bell before ringing it, "proceed."

I drop to my knees and continue to rid him of his wretched armor. He brushes my hair back and rubs my lips, "indeed again, you you are not kissing me."

I huff, looking up at him. His eyes sparkle as I say, "a thousand apologies, ser." I attempt to do the impossible, kissing him while undoing the cuffs on his shins. Amazingly, I eventually complete the task and do so with another huff.

Gwayne rings his bell and knocks on his helmet, "you missed one, pet."

I sit on his lap and place my hands on his shoulders. He watches me as I frown. I look at him pleadingly but he allows me no satisfaction. I have no choice but to take his helmet off. He snakes an arm around me, "hard, that one, was it?"

I place his helmet on the night stand and kiss him, "I wish to please my lord."

He smirks, "then shall you be rewarded." He carelessly chucks the bell behind him, causing me gasp, "Gwayne!"

"I enjoyed our little game but find I no longer have the patience for it," he grabs my thighs and turns me on him.

"That's why we keep losing the bell, you keep throwing it!"

"Fuck the bell," he quips, making me straddle him, "I want to fuck my wife."

The next thing I know, my dress is being ripped off and he's hastily undoing his breeches. I cannot help my laugh as I shift atop him to free himself, and once he is, I grind on his hardened cock, making him grit his teeth. I bask in the feel of him after removing his shirt. By the gods, how I've missed the feel of his chest on my palms.

He allows me to dote on his scars and freckles. I could weep at his beauty. He then sinks his head into the crook of my neck and I wrap my arms around him.

"My wife," he licks a stripe to my jaw, "I dream about your skin."

I brush my fingers up his hair and tug gently, "Gwyane."

"I miss your taste," he mutters in between kisses. He tightens his hold on me, "I miss your taste, miss your skin, miss your lips, my love," he rakes his fingers up my back, "did you miss me?"

I moan as I sink myself down on him. He squeezes my shoulders and drops his jaw.

I grab his cheeks and press our foreheads together, "missed you so much— missed your touch, missed having you inside me, missed your smart mouth."

He chuckles and kisses me, "missed yours." Gwayne begins to buck into me, arms tight around my waist.

I grunt and bring his face into my chest, throwing my head back as I ride him. He sucks on my skin, intent to leave evidence of him on me. I tangle my fingers into his hair then pepper kisses on his forehead. He smelled of sweat and dirt and ash; I relish every bit of him.

I whimper when he sinks his teeth into the side of my throat before suckling. I clench around him in response. I pull his hair and speak his name. He replies with a moan, grazing me with his teeth once more.

My riding becomes harder. The sound of our breath and the utterance of each other's names mingle with the creak of the bed and the wet sound of slapping skin. He grabs my hips, flesh spilling between his fingers, and bites his nails into me. He huffs, guiding me into faster and rougher pace.

I lean my forehead on his once more, darting my tongue to his lips. He chases my tongue, catching it between his teeth, then does the same to my lips. I whimper when I taste blood. He licks the iron off and trails kisses to my ear, "come on my cock, baby, want you to come with me."

I whimper out and nod, "Gwayne."

"Come on," he mutters, "come, my love."

Pressure builds inside me, and we soon both grow erratic. There is a thick silence before guttural cries reverberate through the room. My body comes alive. The thick, hot, pleasure is so intense my breath is knocked out of my lungs and I quickly feel myself seize up.

My husband, ever dutiful, sinks his nails into my thighs and fucks out every last bit of the melting sensation from the both of us. A hoarse noise rips from my throat and makes my toes curl into my soles. Gwayne even overcompensates and plows into me until I'm reeling. I knew it was too much for him too, and so I supply him with the shaky whimpers I knew he desperately craves.

I feel lightheaded by the time he stops. He rests his head on me before finally collapsing on his back, taking me down with him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, our skin now sticky with sweat.

His hands rest on my thighs. I bring mine to both his shoulders. I pant against his jaw, "that was intense."

He hums, "well," he huffs, "you missed me too much."

"No," I nuzzle into his neck and draw shapes on his skin, "you missed me too much."

He brushes his nose against my head, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I didn't miss you at all."

"Good. I didn't miss you either."

He rubs my skin, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Out of nowhere, he whines in a high pitched voice, "OH Gwayne- OH! You feel so gOOD- AH AH-"

I swat him and with a dropped jaw. I lift my head and glare at him, "I did NOT say that!"

Gwayne's eyes fall on me, lips pursing. He brings one arm behind his head and takes the other to my cheek. My belly flutters at the sight of him. He was beautiful like this, shining after our love making. His rough thumb rubs my face, "pity." He brushes my hair back, "I'm going to have to fix that."

I roll my eyes at him but I am unable to fight back my smile.

He smiles back. His eyes soften and his voice is careful, "... did you miss me, my love?"

"Gods," I nearly roll my eyes at the back of my head, "oh, my sweet boy. My sweet pathetic boy who I so terribly missed."

He grins. The lines by on his cheeks only deepen when he laughs.

My stomach rolls again. I speak in earnest, capturing his cheek, "every day, I thank the Seven that I bask in your beauty."

Gwayne's eyes rove over me. He rubs my arm, "we should have another babe."

I scoff, "Gwayne-"

[wheeboo]

pamper | lee chan

SYNOPSIS. in which you give your boyfriend a bath. PAIRING. lee chan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. chan gets... naked. yeah, suggestive undertones, slight allusions to sex, terms of endearment, just pampering (and teasing) chan :( because he deserves it WORD COUNT. 2k

notes: there's this reddit post that occasionally comes up when i scroll thru pinterest abt a guy's girlfriend giving him a bath and how much he felt loved from it :(( idk why it stuck w me i just find it so so cute adfjldsfj

"Take off your clothes."

Chan's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mouth dropped to the floor at your sudden bold request.

"You want me to what?" His voice cracks mid-sentence as he feels the rush of heat already painting his cheeks. He's staring at as if you've just asked him to commit a crime.

You roll your eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter, babe. I just want to give you a bath because you smell like a gym locker room."

Chan blinks at you like your words aren't fully processing in his brain, still frozen in place.

"I-I can just shower. Alone. You know... like a normal person," he mumbles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

You smirk, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. "Where's the fun in that? Can I not pamper my boyfriend every once in a while?"

Chan opens his mouth to argue, but when he catches sight of the way you're standing there, arms crossed and giving him that playful, yet determined look, his words fall short at the end of his tongue, shoulders slumping like he's accepting defeat.

He lets out a sigh, and you watch as he starts to pull off the maroon-coloured hoodie he was wearing over his head, the fabric briefly getting caught on his head before he yanks it off, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. His eyes flit nervously to you, waiting for any sign of judgment, but you’re just watching him with a teasing smile.

"Stop staring at me like that," Chan mutters nervously, and you can see the way he seems to shrink in his shell under your gaze.

"Like what?" You quip playfully, stepping a bit closer to him.

"Like..." he starts, face turning even redder, deeper than the colour of his hoodie. "Like you're... I dunno𑁋gonna pounce on me or something."

"I will pounce on you if you don't get your clothes off in the next two minutes."

"I𑁋Fine," Chan grumbles, giving into his fate. He strips off his shirt next, revealing his toned torso, defined abs that show all the work he's put into over time, and you can't help but let your gaze linger for just a moment. His muscles flex subtly as he moves, and the way his eyes flicker to yours for reassurance tells you everything you need to know𑁋he's still a little unsure, but he trusts you. He's never once doubted that.

His hands now fumble clumsily with the button of his jeans. You stand there, arms still crossed, watching him with a smirk, your eyes softening as you notice how shy he's being. It's cute𑁋adorable, even𑁋and you can't help but feel a flutter of affection for him.

"This is so weird," he groans out.

"Weird?" You fully step up to him now, placing a set of reassuring hands on his shoulders, before drifting upwards to cup his cheek affectionately. "I'm your partner and you're my boyfriend. We do weird things together, okay? Now, chop, chop. You stink."

There's a breath that escapes him that he doesn't realise he's been holding. Chan leans into your touch instinctively, body relaxing at your words. He gives a nod as you pull away, letting him slip his pants and his boxers off until they pool right at his ankles, and with a bit of a bashful glance toward you, he kicks them off to the side.

You can't help the grin to your face as you ogle him just a little bit, his unease still there but softening with each moment. He's standing in front of you, completely exposed, but there's no judgment in your gaze𑁋only adoration, this need to take care of him after all the times he's done so for you.

"Alright, pretty boy." You face him around, bringing him in the direction of the tub. "Sit."

Your hand grazes against the contours of his back as you flip on the tub, letting warm water slowly fill in from the faucet. Chan doesn't let his eyes stray too far away from you as you pour some bath salts into the water𑁋you really went all out for this, he thinks𑁋the comforting scent of lavender curling through the warm air.

Briefly, Chan hesitates, standing just shy of stepping in, but you can see the small glint of trust in his eyes. Slowly, he steps into the tub, the warm water enveloping his legs and around his torso as he lowers himself. The magic of the water seems to already be working, his muscles soothing the moment he's almost submerged.

A sigh of contentment slips past his lips.

"Not too hot?" You ask as you kneel beside the tub, dipping your hand into the water to check the temperature.

"Hmm, it's... it's good," he breathes out, eyes fluttering to the feeling, leaning back against the tub. "It's perfect."

A pleased smile spreads across your face. Reaching for the loofah, you squirt some body wash on it, taking a moment to simply admire him.

He looks so peaceful, and your heart flutters at the thought of him letting himself be this vulnerable around you. Letting you take care of him in a way that's just so intimate.

"Can you move up a little?" You request lightly. "Gonna start with your back."

As Chan adjusts himself, you lather the loofah up, before tenderly guiding it over his shoulders and down his back, leaving a trail of soapy bubbles in its wake. You let your gaze wash over him, taking in the sight of his bare back and the way the water clings to his skin. You let the loofah glide over the muscles that have worked tirelessly through long hours and hectic days.

Chan's eyes fall to a close, a soft hum of appreciation from your careful touches.

"This... this feels nice," he murmurs lowly. "You're really good at this."

You twitch a brow at his words. "Yeah? I sure hope so." When you finish lathering up his shoulders and back, you clear your throat to ask, "Can I... do your chest now?"

Chan's breath hitches at your question, your voice even coming out shaky and shy as well. His fingers curl slightly against the edge of the tub, and he glances at you, searching your expression for any hint of teasing or judgment. But all he finds is the softness of your smile and the warmth in your eyes.

"Y-Yeah..." he finally answers, turning himself around for you. "Go ahead."

Your heart skips a beat at that, and you dip the loofah back into the water before you tentatively reach out to glide it over his chest. The moment the sponge touches his skin, you feel the subtle shift in his posture𑁋his body tensing slightly, but not out of discomfort.

You can't help the way your eyes flicker down his chest, the way the water traces the fine lines of his abs and the soft curve of his collarbone as you continue your task.

Chan sucks in a breath when your hand trails closer to his stomach, and the subtle tension in his body only deepens as you reach further down. He's trying to play it cool, but his face betrays him𑁋flushed, eyes half-lidded, biting his bottom lip. You could only smirk to yourself, a quiet satisfaction bubbling up within you.

"Just relax," You coo reassuringly. "I've got you."

"Easy for you to say," he counters with a pout. "You're not the one who's... naked in a bathtub right now."

You snort at his comment, shaking your head as you rinse out the loofah in the water. "Yeah, right, because I'm the lucky one who gets to enjoy the view."

A half-laugh, half-groan leaves him, and he immediately shifts his gaze away from you, but he knows you'll never let go of the way the tips of his ears are firing up.

"You're going to be the death of me," he mutters under his breath.

"And I'd be honoured," You retort back, lightly splashing water over him to get rid of the suds all over his body. When you finish, you run a playful hand through the strands of his hair. "Now to tackle this little mop of yours."

Chan relaxes his back against the tub as you lather his hair with some shampoo, deft fingers massaging into his scalp with nothing but care. His eyelids fall to a close once again, and he can't help the thought that he feels just so loved right now.

Never once has he been treated this gently ever, and it makes his heart swell to the brink of overflowing.

Your fingers work their magic, threading through his damp hair and scrubbing away any remnants of stress from his day. Chan leans into your touch without thinking, a low, content hum slipping past his lips. It's a sound so soft, so vulnerable, that it makes your chest tighten.

"You doing okay?" You ask him, angling your head to get a view of his face.

"Mmhm..." he breathes out. "Feels... nice. Really nice."

You smirk at that, slowing your ministrations a little to lean in and press a kiss to the top of his shoulder, and another one to his neck. His head tilts instinctively to your affection, and you smile against his skin, before pressing one last peck to the sweet spot of his nape.

"My pretty boy," You murmur softly, smiling at the way his skin flushes under your affection.

Chan shivers at the words, the sweetness coated on them wrapping around him like a warm blanket. His chest feels tight, but in the best way possible. His limbs feel numb, like they're floating, but he doesn't mind, because he knows that you'll always be there to catch him.

As you start to rinse his hair, he calls out, "Babe?"

"Mhm?"

"I love you." The simple words leaves his mouth all too quick, but then he adds, "Like... so in love with you that I think I might explode one day."

You chuckle at that and give his hair one last rinse before turning your attention back to him.

"Drama queen," You remark teasingly, but the features to your face only soften when his eyes meet yours. There's a twinkle in them that you pinpoint, and it most certainly is not from the light of the bathroom. "I love you too, Channie. More than you know."

For the rest of the bath, it's peaceful. You continue washing and pampering him with tender care, your fingers gently massaging his scalp, his back, his shoulders, and even the spots on his neck that are particularly sensitive.

When you finish, you retrieve a towel and wrap it around your boyfriend, carefully patting him dry. His hair shoots up in all sorts of directions, body shivering slightly from the cold air hitting his skin as you guide him out of the tub. He nearly slips on the wet floor, but you manage to catch him just in time, steadying him by the hips.

"Alright, big baby." You give him a soft squeeze on his waist. "Let me get you some clothes to change into."

When you lead him back into the bedroom, Chan plops down at the edge of the bed, observing as you rummage through the closet and drawers for a fresh set of clothes.

"So..." Chan starts, a thoughtful look painting his face. "When can I return the favour?"

You turn to him with a suspicious brow, tossing a clean pair of boxers to his face. "You're seriously thinking about that right now?"

"I𑁋Not in that way!" Then he bites at his lip, suppressing a boastful grin. "I mean..."

You take a few gigantic steps over to him, tossing his clothes on the bed before placing your hands on his shoulders and leaning in close to his face. He glances down at your lips briefly, throat tightening as you draw nearer to him.

"You can pay me back with kisses and cuddles," You tease, lips hovering just inches before his, and the need only spikes higher within him. "But right now, tonight, it's all about you. So get comfortable, pretty boy."

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[bloodibambiidoll]

Her Emperor, His Destiny

(Alpha!Paul Atreides x Omega!BeneGesserit!Reader)

Summary: Ever since Paul presented no omega has smelled remotely appealing to him. His only reprieve is his dreams that have been filled with nothing but an angelic voice calling out to him, the silhouette of a woman he can’t quite make out, and the sweetest saccharine smell. Wk: 3.2k

Warnings: General omegaverse behaviors, knotting, scenting, marking, breeding, Paul and reader are a soul bound pair, inappropriate use of the voice(by both Paul & Reader) , fluff, kinda love making? Idk this is much softer than my usual smut. I think that’s it, lmk if I missed any!! 18+MNDI!!

A/N: Listen… I know this is left field for me but I made a promise to myself that I would start writing for ME again, and that means writing whatever I want. I saw Dune 2 and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Paul is so alpha coded I feel like it was dropped in my lap.

Paul expected the air to be different, smell different, out in the desert planes of Arkkis. Thus far it’s as he expected. The smell of spice and sand permeate the air to the point that it’s over powering, flooding every single one of your senses. The sand lingers on any inch of exposed skin practically borrowing its way underneath. The smell of spice is so strong that it feels like it’s drowning you, invading your lungs and nostrils, coating them, leaving your insides feeling like sandpaper if you dare breathe it in.

But as he follows Stilgar into the sietch he can’t even be bothered with the glares and sideways glances from the Freman because the further they walk the more his senses are hit with an overwhelmingly saccharine smell. It was like someone was baking the finest pastry mixed with a warm milk bath on a cold winter's day. He had only ever smelled something as sweet as this in his dreams. A scent he’s dreamed of so vividly that it lingered in his nostrils when he woke, but he’s never caught a whiff of it in waking hours until now. There was no doubt in his mind that this is the same scent. The scent that’s haunted him every night since he presented. The scent of his omega, his destined mate.

“I can hear and smell you scenting back there, Paul Atreides… I suggest you get your pheromones under control before we enter.” Stilgar looks back at him with an apprehensive look and Paul apologizes nodding in agreement. “Mating is a very sacred thing to my people. Each pair must be approved and blessed by the high priestess. And all unmated omegas rooms are on the opposite side of the alphas. It is very important that you follow all rules, but especially this one. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand.” He understood the rule but does that mean he was going to follow it? He could certainly try. But that scent was intoxicating and the closer they got to the sietch the stronger it got. He knows given the chance, he’d break that rule in an instant. Consequences be damned.

“Many wait for their soul bound mate and majority of them die alone, never finding the one.” Paul found this odd. Soul bounds are few and far between nowadays and he comes from a place where mating is a transaction, a bargain, something of power and not of love. But as that sugary sweet scent swirls around him, almost making him dizzy, he thinks he might understand wanting to wait for your one. It’s been a few years now since he presented and no omega has ever smelled even remotely appealing to him. They either smelled of nothing or downright revolting, his only reprieve was in his dreams. His dreams filled with that sugary smell and the figure of a woman whose face he could never quite make out.

When Stilgar pulled his mother aside Paul found himself alone in a room filled with stares. Some looked at him in awe, certain he was their long awaited Maud’Dib. Others looked at him with disdain, snickering to each other as they shamelessly pointed his way. But he honestly wasn’t concerned with any of it, because as he sat against the stony wall the scent was stronger than ever. He could almost taste it. His eyes searched the room, craving nothing more than to put a face to the smell that has nearly become his drug. But as he looked across the various faces surrounding him, no one stuck out to him.

But he was certain she was in this room, if not this one than the next. That warm saccharine scent was so close it was as if it were right next to him. That’s when he feels a tap on his shoulder, causing him to jump. Either this person was stealthy or he was so lost in thought he didn’t hear them approaching but when his head whips around to see who it is he feels like his heart is going to burst. He hears the sound of bells ringing, a sound that he’s only heard in the churches back home. There standing over him is the most ethereal woman he’s ever seen, beautiful, perfect, sweet smelling, you.

“Hello, Paul Atreides, I’ve been waiting for you.” You smile down at him sweetly, your eyes filled with adoration. You aren’t dressed like the Fremen, no tans or browns or stillsuit to be found. A black silky dress adorns your form, fitting you perfectly. There’s a sheer midnight colored scarf wrapped around your head and shoulders, framing your face like the greatest work of art. You weren’t Fremen. You were a Bene Gesserit. Or at the very least, one in training.

“I think… I’ve been waiting for you too.” Paul’s voice is trance-like, looking up at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. The sound of the voice you’ve heard so many times in your slumber sending chills down your spine.

“Won’t you come with me? I have so much to tell you.” You look at him eagerly, offering him your danity ringed hand.

“I don’t know if I’m… supposed to…” He wants nothing more than to follow you. He would follow you into one of the suns of Arakkis if you asked him to. But he knew he was already on thin ice here and he feared what would happen to him and his mother if he were to upset anyone further.

“Do not bother with them, they will see the way. They will see what I’ve seen. Soon they will be cheering your name. Come.”

Paul scans the room, all eyes are on the two of you but when he looks back at your reassuring smile it’s like no one else matters, no one else exists. He takes your hand, letting you pull him along through hallways and far away from prying eyes. You drag him into a room that he assumes is yours, shutting the door behind you.

“Have you dreamt of me, Paul?” You sit on the bed and pull the scarf from your head, leaning back on your palms. You look so beautiful and the room is engulfed in your scent. It clings to every inch of the space and radiates off of you in waves.

“Yes… have you dreamt of me?” He takes an apprehensive step toward you, leaving a few feet of distance between the two of you. His green eyes feel as if they’re eating you alive and the scent of him causes slick to rush into your panties.

“Yes, every night since I presented as an omega my dreams have been filled with nothing but you. And more recently I’ve had visions of you in my waking hours. Will you tell me, Paul, about your dreams?” Your voice is as sweet as your scent. The way you’re leaning back on your hands makes the silk of your dress taunt against your breasts, your peaked nipples on display. The sight of you and the unmistakable smell of your slick makes his cock stir in his pants.

“They aren’t very vivid… mostly just flashes of you from behind, the sound of your voice, you were always saying ‘come to me Paul, for I am your destiny’ but your scent? That was so clear to me.” He takes another step forward, reaching a hand out as if he’s going to touch you but he lets it fall to his side, like he thought better of it. “I didn’t know it was possible to have a sense of smell in your dreams, but night after night I was surrounded by your scent as I slept.”

“I could smell you as well and I smelled you the minute you arrived. But my dreams are much more detailed than yours. There is much you do not know.” You approach him, closing the small distance between you. You rest your hands on his chest, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Would you like me to tell you about them?”

“I’d love nothing more, omega.” His thumb gently caresses the apple of your cheek before traveling down to push some of your hair off your shoulder. He’s looking down at you expectantly, eagerly waiting for you to speak.

“Your dreams are correct, I am your destiny, and you are mine. I can feel the doubt in your heart, feel that you do not believe in yourself, do not believe that you are the Maud’Dib but you are, sweet Paul. For I have seen it.”

“Tell me? What have you seen?” He searches your eyes for signs of doubt or deceit but all he sees is truth there. Truth and the same adoring look you gave him when he first saw you.

“I’ve seen you learning the ways of the Fremen. I’ve seen you move them, rally them. I’ve seen a battle in which you win. I’ve seen you upon the emperor's throne, ruling over all, with me by your side, our child in my arms.” Your hands travel from his chest to take his face in your soft palms where you rub soothing circles on his temples.

“You saw… all of that?” Paul’s voice sounded exasperated, like what you’ve told him took all the breath from his lungs. He feels like it has. The finality and bluntness in which you speak tell him that your words are true.

“Yes, and more. There will be plenty of time to tell you about it all. But right now? I need you.” Right as the words leave your mouth a gush of slick drips down your legs. The presence of your mate triggering your heat weeks early.

“Tell me what you need, omega.” His voice drops an octave, taking on that deep alpha tone. It makes your heart speed up as another gush of slick drips from your core. You can’t help but think what it would be like if he used The Voice on you. Regularless of how absolutely blasphemous that would be considered.

“I need you, alpha. I need your cock. I need you to fill me up and lock your seed inside me with your knot.” Paul lets out a growl before reaching out, one hand gripping onto your hip to pull you flush against him and the other going to the back of your neck so he could connect his lips with your own.

The kiss starts off rough, eager, and hungry. But after a few moments his lips become tender against your own, his fingers threading through your hair as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You grant him access, immediately intertwining his tongue with your own, moaning at the taste of him.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, my moon. Ask for it and it is yours.” He kisses down your jaw to your throat where he runs the tip of his nose along your scent gland, inhaling deeply. “You wish for me to make love to you? Then I shall.”

Paul pushes the thin straps of your satin dress down your shoulders, kissing along the column of your throat, your collar bones, across your shoulders. You drop your arms so the straps fall the rest of the way down, the dress slipping down your body with them. Leaving you bare before him aside from the thin black material of your panties.

“Absolutely beautiful, angelic.” He runs the back of his hand down your cheek, your jaw, your neck, all the way down until his back knuckles are caressing the tender peaks of your nipples. He slides it across your chest, giving the other the same treatment before taking both of your tits in his hands. He gently squeezes them, pinching your hardened nipples between his fingers, eliciting little whimpers from you.

“I heard your mother has been teaching you our ways. How is your training?” Paul raises an eyebrow at you, certainly wondering why you’re asking him about that at a time like this. “I only ask because I was wondering if you might want to practice on me.”

“Do you mean…?” He looks at you with wide eyes and you smirk, biting your lip.

“That’s exactly what I mean. I can feel your apprehension, don’t be afraid, I want this.” You lean into him, smashing his hands that are still on your chest between your bodies as you lean up to you run your nose along his scent gland, darting your tongue out to taste the sweat and spice that coat his skin. He grabs onto your shoulders, pushing you back so he can look in your eyes, searching for any signs of doubt. But as every other time he’s looked in your eyes tonight, he’s seen nothing but honesty there. Nothing but truth.

“Get on the bed on your back. Spread your legs.” Your body immediately reacts, doing exactly as he asks. Paul approaches the foot of the bed, standing between your spread legs. “That’s a good girl.”

His hands grip onto your knees, pushing your legs further apart, leaning down to shove his face between your legs. His nose runs along the soaked material of your panties, deeply inhaling the sugary sweet smell of your slick.

“Alpha, please.”

“You do not have to beg, my moon. I’m going to give you exactly what you want.” Paul smirks up at you before lacing his fingers into the band of your panties and ripping them in half. He runs his tongue up your slit, circling it around your sensitive clit. The feeling of his hot wet mouth has you coming undone instantly, your slick gushing all over his chin and down his neck where it drips onto his shirt. He moans at the taste, sweeter than anything that’s ever graced his taste buds. “Yes, that’s my good little omega, give it all to me, let me drink in your sweet nectar.”

He dives back in, shoving his tongue as deep into your pussy as it can go, fucking you with it. His lips come up to wrap around your clit while his fingers circle your dripping entrance. He runs his fingers through your folds before shoving them knuckle deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck! I’m going to cum again, I’m gonna cum.” You move your hips against his face as he curls his fingers against your sweet spot, your legs clamp around his head and your entire body shakes as your high washes over you. Paul pushes himself up from the bed, ridding himself of his clothes before climbing back over to you, situating himself on top of you with his hands on either side of your head. His hard cock is resting against your lower stomach, the tip leaking precum onto your skin.

“I want to taste you too.” You run your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. You didn’t even care that the ache between your legs wouldn’t be satiated until he was inside you, you needed to taste him.

“Next time. I need to be inside you now.” It comes out a soft whisper, his forehead resting against your own. He reaches between your bodies, taking his cock in his hand and lining it up with your entrance. He connects his lips with your own, kissing you passionately as he begins to push inside you. You both moan as he bottoms out, his hips flush against your own. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, slipping your tongue into his mouth as his thrusts begin to pick up.

“Mmm you feel amazing, my love, my lord, my emperor.” Paul looks into your eyes as he continues to fuck you at a linguid pace, rolling his hips against your own as he pushes himself as deep inside you as possible.

“My moon, my destiny.” He picks up the pace, pushing up on his knees and wrapping your legs around his hips. Your tits jiggle with every thrust, the fucked out love sick gaze that you send his way makes his skin even hotter.

“I want you to fill me up, alpha. Fill me with your cum. Put a pup in me. So we can fulfill our prophecy.” Paul snakes a hand between the two of you, connecting his thumb with your clit so he can rub circles on it in time with his thrusts.

“Open your mouth.” The sound of him using The Voice makes your walls clench around him, your jaw dropping open at his command. He leans down, letting the spit that had collected in his mouth drip down into your tongue. “Swallow it.”

You swallow with an audible gulp. Your heart warming at the gesture that anywhere else would be considered lewd but here on Arakkis to share one’s sacred spit with another was a grand gesture of love.

“Thank you, my love. You taste better than the finest feast. I cannot wait to know what your cum tastes like.” Paul groans at that, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. His thrusts start to grow sloppy but he refuses to finish before you do.

“Cum for me.” As soon as the words leave his mouth your walls are convulsing around him, sucking him as your slick soaks his cock.

“Mark me, Paul. Sink your teeth into my flesh and bind us together as we are meant to be.” You tug on his arms, pulling his upper half so it’s draped over you, his face buried in your neck. His thrusts become slow and deep again, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you.

“But Stilgar said…” He groans, using every ounce of strength in his body to not just sink his teeth into your soft neck.

“I do not care what Stilgar said. This is bigger than him. Bigger than all of them. Mark me.” His mouth moves before his mind can process what’s happening, his teeth sinking deep into your flesh, breaking the skin. The feeling is like nothing you’ve ever felt. Electricity washes through your body, the most world altering orgasm of your life wracks through you, and you feel like your soul leaves you, connecting with Paul’s before returning to your earthly vessel. He pushes his hips flush against yours, ropes of his cum spilling inside you.

“Oh fucking shit.” Paul groans, pulling his mouth from your neck, gliding his tongue over the indents of his teeth. He leans back to look at you, eyes roaming your face. His knot swells inside of you and a look of pain crosses your features before turning into one of ecstasy. Loud moans leave your lips as your final orgasm of the night washes over you. Paul leans down, connecting his lips with yours, kissing you like it’s the last thing he will ever do. Though it was far from it.

“I hope you are not upset with me, Maud’Dib.” You take his face in your hands, running the top of your nose along his cheek.

“I don’t think I could ever be upset with you, my love. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on when you used The Voice on me…” he chuckles, resting his forehead against your own. “I am so happy I finally found you…”

“You have me now, until the day I take my last breath I will belong to you, Paul Atreides. Together, we will accomplish great things.”

[angel-writes-here]

Covenant

Choi Seunghyun x AFAB! Reader Synopsis: Your 'honeymoon' is off to a crazy start and the first full day comes to an interesting end after a successful day out as newlyweds. Warnings: SMUT! Mutual masturbation. Angst but some fluff too if you squint. A/N: Idk where this story is going, so I'm along for the ride like the rest of you. Follow me for updates! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates and thank you for reading! This in no way shape or form represents Seunghyun as a person, it's a fictional story. PART 1

Seunghyun sneaks out of the bedroom, attempting to not disturb your restful slumber. He’s on his way outside to make a phone call when the light catches your face from the open curtain across the room. You look ethereal in the moonlight, enough for him to almost want to apologize for snapping at you earlier.

Almost.

He sighs as he notices the blanket half on your body and half on the floor, he quietly tip toes over to place the blanket on your shoulders, completely unaware that you’re still awake. He places a ghost like kiss to the top of your head before heading out. Your breath catches and you only find the will to breathe again once the door latches behind him.

He hits the call button on the name “Hae”. He waits for it to ring, the ocean offering a white noise background.

“Hey, jagi,” he smiles into the phone.

“Hey, baby,” her voice is seductive. It makes Seunghyun bite his lip, “Get to the resort ok?”

“Yeah, we got settled ok.”

“Where’s your wifey,” she mocks the word with disdain and venom.

“On the couch.” His voice is casual.

“I don’t see why you needed to do this,” she pouts.

“I told you, management said a marriage was the best option for building my image up again,” he sighs as he rubs his temple.

“You could’ve married me,” she sighs. Seunghyun has to stop himself from laughing. Hae was fun and great for a release, but he didn’t see her as a girlfriend, let alone a wife.

“Y/n wasn’t in the public eye and lets be honest, she looks more,” he pauses trying not to piss her off, “Conservative,” is the only word that comes to mind. He peeks at you from the window, your body slowly moving up and down.

“I miss you,” she whines in the phone.

“I miss you too, but I’ll be home soon,” he smiles.

“Wanna have some fun?” he can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Always,” he smiles as he makes his way inside. You hear him tip toe back to the bedroom and before long, the quiet house is filled with muffled moans and whimpers that are straight up erotic. You find yourself squeezing your thighs together at the sound of his voice. A quiet whimper escapes you at the torture of your senses. You shift on the couch trying to ignore it. Pictures flood your mind of what he must look like, his cock tight in hand, his head titled backward and mouth partially agape. His stomach muscles contracting as he nears his finish. You shake your head trying to remove the image.

You huff knowing now you won’t be able to sleep. You look at the clock on the wall.

5:45 am

You toss the blanket to the back of the couch and decide to get an early start to the day. You make yourself a small breakfast all the while hearing your husband’s sex noises on the other side of the door. You bite your lip trying not to imagine, once again, how good he must look. Seunghyun might not be the nicest guy you’d ever met, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good looking. You sit at the counter ready to eat when the door opens again. You force your face forward.

Seunghyun stops in his tracks when he see’s your awake. His face goes red but he composes himself as he walks into the kitchen.

“What no breakfast for me?” He eyes you.

“Too tired to make your own?” Your smirk and his jaw ticks.

“You were listening?”

“Hard not to when you’re so damn loud,” you take a forceful bite of your eggs.

“I woke you?” he asks. You shrug at his question and walk past him to place your plate in the sink. You go back to the bedroom and change into your bathing suit.

“Where are you going?” He calls out. You walk back out and point towards the back door.

“To the beach?” you more so ask like it isn’t obvious. You walk past him to grab a towel from the bathroom.

“Seriously, no breakfast? You’re my wife now.” You chuckle darkly at his words.

“Only in public,” you put up a finger with a smug smirk.

“So, make your own breakfast,” you grab the towel and your phone and head down to the beach to watch the sunrise. You get settled on the sand when the phone rings.

Jiyong’s name pops up and you smile.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey, I hope I didn’t wake you?” the waves roll in and crash against the sand.

“No, I couldn’t hardly sleep last night.” Jiyong’s stomach twists at your words.

“Wow, had you up all night, huh?” you can hear the tease in his voice.

“Uh, yeah something like that,” you bite your lip. You hear him chuckle.

“Well as long as he’s treating you well.” You don’t respond, rather you watch the sunrise. The silence that stretches between you is comfortable.

“Listen I won’t keep you from him, but I just wanted to call and be sure everything was good. He was supposed to text me last night just to let me know you both made it out there ok, but I guess he was just too busy.” Jiyong sighs. The frustration and lack of sleep pile up and you have to bite your tongue to keep form spilling everything. Part of the deal was that no one could know. But at the same time, didn’t he have someone who knew?

-

You’re lying in the chair, the sun bright and warm on your skin with your eyes closed when you notice a shadow come over you. It’s your husband.

“You’re blocking my sun,” you sigh.

“We need to go out today, be seen in public." You sigh in response.

“I don’t want to go out today. I want to stay here and relax before the greatest shit show of the century is performed.” You look up at him over the rim of your sunglasses.

“We have to at least go out to dinner, and we can’t be separated this long. We have to play it up whenever we’re out.”

“Seunghyun it’s a private beach, we’re fine,” you wave him off as you settle back into your chair.

“Y/n, I’m serious. Where you go, I need to go. Where I go, you need to go.” His voice is stern.

“Fine,” you smirk to yourself.

“I’m getting in the ocean.” You swing your legs to the other side of the chair and strut past him, your hips swaying back and forth.

“I’m not dressed for,” Seunghyun trails off, but it’s too late.

“Not my problem,” you shout out as your legs slowly sink into the water. He huffs walking back to your room to change. You float along the water, carefully stepping as to not get stung by a jellyfish. When Seunghyun comes back out he scans the water and his heart races against his ribs.

He can’t find you.

“Y/n,” he calls out trying to sound calm.

“This isn’t funny!” He says as he runs to the water, still not seeing you. You hear call your name, and while you know it’s not productive, at least it’s entertaining. You can’t help but giggle as you hide behind a rock.

“Y/n!” his voice is now frantic, and you can’t help the loud laughter coming from deep in your belly.

“Are you fucking serious? You had me worried!” he shouts as he takes a breath, eyes studying your movements.

“Oh relax, it was just a,” before anymore words can come out, a wave crashes against the rocks taking you under water and causing you to bump your head.

“Y/N!” he yells as he dives underwater quickly coming to your rescue. He pulls your body to him and swims back to shore. Your body is laid on the sand so he can perform CPR.

“Come on, don’t you dare die on me.” He murmurs as he pumps your chest. Nothing.

“Come on, y/n,” he says as he does it again. He breathes air into your mouth, the first time his lips are on yours in private is so he can literally save your life. He continues for another minute, until you suddenly choke up water and gasp for air.

“What the,” you look around, seeing the sun shinning just behind his head. Seunghyun has a mix of relief and obvious anger on his face.

“That’s what you get for acting stupid,” he says before he gets up and leaves you in the sand for a moment.

You take a moment to steady yourself before standing up and following after him. He heads back into the airbnb running his hand through his hair. The rest of the day you both are out together, acting like nothing happened. Cameras flash constantly with fans wanting pictures and videos of the two of you acting like sweet newlyweds.

He takes you to a romantic dinner, where there are paparazzi set up by his media team. The two of you are out of ear shot as they aren’t allowed in the restaurant.

“Thanks for saving me this morning,” you glance up at him from the menu. His brows raise.

“Can’t help my image if you’re dead,” he smiles at you for the camera but his voice is filled with frustration.

“Why didn’t you just marry your little fling back home,” your voice comes out irritated despite the happy looking smile. That grabs his attention.

“None of your fucking business, dear,” his smile is wicked as he caresses your hand.

“Don’t mention her again, or I will stop this whole thing.”

“You need me,” you try to retort.

“Not that fucking bad,” he growls.

“And you know you need the money, so play by my rules or don’t play at all.” His gaze is intense, intimidating.

“Your sister wouldn’t fair well if the bills stopped getting paid.” Your breath catches and you sigh setting down your menu.

“Where are you going,” he asks looking you up and down. He had to admit your dress hugs all the right places.

“To the bathroom. Just order me whatever,” you wave him off as you walk to the back. Seunghyun shrugs, despite the overwhelming feeling of guilt for the way he just snapped.

You shut the door behind you, taking a deep breath as tears once again brim your eyes. This is something you’ve become used to, the emotions becoming over whelming and the frustration Seunghyun causes within you. You take out your phone and hover over Jiyong’s name. You have half a mind to call him, after all he always made you feel calm if you could just hear his voice, and right now you need a friend. But your better judgment races in and forces you to put the phone away.

You check yourself in the mirror taking a few deep breaths.

Your life really is turning into a freaking Wattpad story.

-

Back at the house, the air between you is awkward, the two of you put on the show for the camera’s but once out of sight, things went back to normal. Awkward silences and all. You decide you need a relaxing bath after such a long day and you can see Seunghyun trying to undo his tie, but his fingers just can’t seem to get it.

“Here,” you mumble as you walk toward him. He looks at you through the mirror and raises a brow. You look back at him, motioning for him to turn. He isn’t much taller than you, just four, maybe five, inches. You can feel his eyes on your face as your fingers move to undo the knot in his tie. It unravels easily, and you slowly slide it off, your eyes coming up to meet his. His face is unreadable.

“There,” you say as you had him the garment. You walk over to ‘your side’ of the bed, the one you’ve yet to actually sleep in and you attempt to undo the zipper of your dress. Seunghyun watches as you struggle for a moment, his carnal inhibitions out the window, when he walks over and places a hand on your hip, steadying you and the other hand goes to the zipper.

You freeze at the contact, he’s rarely ever touched you, let alone like this. You both still for a moment as the sound of the zipper stops and you both look at each other in the full-length mirror.

“There,” he whispers in your ear before walking out of the room. Your hip burns where he touched, it’d been so long since you’d been touched. Being in a relationship like this made dating almost impossible.

What if you were seen you out with someone else? What if it got leaked? No, dating was out of the question, which meant that sex was too.

You walk into the bathroom, locking the door. The dress pools in the floor and you step out of the puddle. You run the bath, not caring about anything but yourself at this moment. Slowly your hands roam your own body, sensations taking over that you haven’t felt in months. You bite your lip as you sink down into the warm water. You know Seunghyun’s out there, but if he could tease you with his sounds, you’d do the same. If he was allowed to have some fun, so could you.

Your hands continue exploring your chest, your head thrown back as the sensitivity of your body is at an all time high. Images of Seunghyun listening just across the door flood your mind and it makes your arousal pool even more.

You bite your lip as your hand dips into the water between your legs, slowly rubbing circles over your nub. You gasp at the sensation and shut your eyes, a loud moan accidently escaping.

Seunghyun is in the living room when he realizes his phone needs to charge. He’s in the bedroom plugging it up, when he hears it, a sound that makes his knees weak from the bathroom on the other side of the door next to the bed.

He freezes as he continues to listen to the moaning and whimpering that come out of the room. He feels his pulse skyrocket and his flesh heat up.

Who knew you could sound so beautiful?

As you continue your exploration thoughts of Seunghyun from last night flash into your mind, how his face might have contorted to how it would feel to actually feel him. You tease yourself a little at the thought.

“Fuck,” you shout a little louder than you mean to, but at this moment you don’t care.

Seunghyun’s pants are growing increasingly tight, he can’t help but palm himself to the sounds you’re making. He shutters and decides he can do one of two things.

He can leave the room entirely, or get off with you. He chooses the latter. He sneaks his hand in his pants and slowly grasps himself, a sharp hiss elicits from his mouth. His pants come all the way off with his boxers allowing him to spring free he lays on the bed, listening to the whining and moaning that’s up ticking in volume.

He strokes himself imaging you with those stupid doe eyes you give him that he secretly knows he loves. That grin you give him when you feel smug about a situation, like earlier this morning on the beach, the way you looked at him as if he was the only man on the planet sometimes when the two of you are out together.

That’s when you hear it, Seunghyun’s own sounds are coming from the bedroom. Your eyes snap open and your head snaps to the door.

Oh no. He’s heard you.

Your face heats up as his noises are getting louder, and despite the embarrassment, you realize he’s getting off to you, and you continue. It’s not long before you reach your high and you’re panting. He’s right behind you, his high coming in waves as it spills onto his stomach. The two of you take a moment to come back to reality. You wash yourself off in the tub while Seunghyun cleans himself up and puts on a pair of grey sweatpants and no shirt. You step out of the bathroom, trying to act like nothing happened.

He isn’t in there and you breathe a sigh of relief. He’s in the kitchen and you can hear him rustling around. You keep to yourself, changing into an oversized t shirt and shorts. You slowly make your way out to the couch, and you both accidently make eye contact.

Your face flushes with embarrassment as you sit down on the couch, turning on the tv. You try to ignore the holes you feel burning into the back of your head. He stops whatever it is that he’s doing and heads into the bedroom. You hear the door slam shut and the lock click.

Seunghyun’s face is in his hands. What in the world just happened. He tried to distract himself from the impending feeling guilt and shame, but it wouldn’t work forever. He sits on the bed, knowing that if he asks you to stay in the room tonight, it’s going to lead to something neither of you can come back from. So instead, he turns out the light and tries to get some sleep.

*This is my original work, please do not repost*

Tags: @breakmeoff @ilovethe141

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

What if when Nyra gets crowned, she has a crown made for Jace? His wife could help him get ready for the coronation (I’m talking bathing, hair, dressing, everything). Maybe it’s to show him how serious she is about him being her heir

When I saw this picture (not my edit, idk who made it), I had to write something

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’The prince’s bath is ready, Princess,’’ one of the maids informed you, coming to the table where you had been breaking your fast. ‘’Does the prince needs us to assist him? I will call a male servant.’’ 

You thanked her for the bath, then shook your head. ‘’That won’t be necessary,’’ you replied. ''And leave the towels on the chair.''

''Yes, Princess. Should I have his morning meal brought to his chamber? He must break his fast before the coronation, her Grace said.'' 

You glance at the bed in the distance, seeing Jacaerys' sleeping form under the covers. He had difficulty falling asleep last night, his nerves making him restless, so you let him sleep longer. The coronation wasn't until late morning. 

''I will see with him after his bath. I'll send someone to the kitchens.'' 

The maid nodded, then left. 

After you finished your meal, you went to the bed and gently woke your husband, caressing his messy hair. It always baffled you how all over the place they get during his sleep. You pressed a lingering soft kiss to his soft cheek. ‘’It’s time to wake, my love.’’ 

As you expected, Jacaerys grumbled sleepily and pressed his face deeper into his pillow. 

You stifled a smile, finding him endearing when he was acting like a child in the morning. On other days, you would have joined him for another hour of sleep, but you couldn’t allow yourself that luxury today. You needed to prepare for the day you’ve all been waiting for: Rhaenyra reclaiming her seat and — officially — becoming the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

‘’Your bath is ready. Come.’’ You stood, knowing he’ll try to pull you with him if you stayed seated on the bed. 

Jacaerys reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. He sleepily followed you to the bathing area, his eyes still heavy with sleep and his curls sticking out in all the places. He looked adorable in his groggy state. 

Like a toddler running after his mama, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. ‘’You left me alone in bed,’’ he complained, his voice still raspy from his sleep, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. ‘’It was cold without you.’’ 

A smile curved on your lips, and you leaned into your husband’s embrace. His lips skimmed lightly over the sensitive skin of your neck. ‘’Cold? I find that difficult to believe, my love. You were wrapped in a blanket with the fire blazing in the hearth.’’

‘’Still cold,’’ he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to the spot where your shoulder met your neck, making you shiver slightly. ‘’I prefer having you in my arms to keep me warm.’’

‘’And I would prefer if you disrobed and sat in the bathtub so I can wash your hair.’’ 

Jacaerys huffed, then released you and started to remove his night tunic. He left it in a lump on the floor, then stepped into the hot bath. 

You sat on the stool right by the tub and filled the pitcher with water to pour it over his hair. ''Cover your eyes.'' 

He closed them, letting the water fall down his face instead of shielding his eyes with his hand. 

You lathered soap in your hands and Jacaerys sighed as you began to wash his hair, finding it soothing how your fingers massaged his scalp. Before he was wed to you, he had servants who assisted him and they were nowhere near as gentle as you. 

''Cover your eyes again.'' 

You poured more water, washing down the sods before applying oils and brushing them with a comb. It was better to brush curly hair when wet than dry. Jacaerys had learned that the hard way as a child...

 Once his hair was oiled and brushed, you began to wash his back and shoulders, the hot water cascading over the light dust of freckles. He hummed pleasantly, enjoying the feel of your slender fingers rubbing the soap into his skin.

‘’I still cannot believe Mother had a crown made for me. Heirs don't wear crowns,’’ Jacaerys said, his nerves making him pick at his nails. 

When the King named Rhaenyra his heir, there was no crown given to her. He only organized a grand ceremony at court to publicly declare the princess  as his rightful successor. 

But Rhaenyra wanted to make things different. 

''Her Grace remembers your fear that a lowborn with white hair might lay claim on the Iron Throne after her passing. By giving you a crown in front of all the Lords, Ladies and other nobles, she wishes to remind you —and everyone — that you are the future rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and that no one can take your place. Being a dragonlord or having Valyrian features does not grant anyone a claim to the throne. You are the heir because you are the son of the Queen.'' 

Absent-mindedly, Jacaerys continued picking at his fingers, drawing blood out. He was more nervous now than he had been on your wedding night. His mind was going through all the possible and impossible scenarios of the coronation... What if something went wrong? What if he tripped in front of everyone? What if the remaining supporters of the Greens tried to sabotage the ceremony?

''Quit doing that,'' you scolded, taking his hand from him. ''A prince cannot receive his crown with blood under his nails.'' You took a brush and scrubbed the blood and dirt around and under his nails. 

He apologized. 

''You're nervous, it's alright,’’ you said, your eyes soft and understanding.  

He sighed and reached over the tub to take the sponge. ‘’You don't need to do everything, you know. I can wash myself.’’ He lathered soap on a sponge and scrubbed his skin while you continued with his nails. 

Once he was thoroughly clean, Jacaerys dried himself with a warm towel, then slipped on his robe. He never wore one before you came into his life, claiming it was for women, but he loved to lounge in one after his bath. The silk was soft on his skin and light. You had one made for him for his eight and ten nameday — a dark and rich red color with an embroidered dragon at the back. 

You made him sit at your vanity table. It was unusual for him. The vanity was your spot. He enjoyed watching you sitting there in the mornings, picking jewelry and scented oils, or simply brushing your hair. Sometimes, he would even offer to brush them for you.

You combed through his damp hair, twirling his curls around your fingers to make them more defined. ''You're gonna be the most handsome prince the court has ever seen,'' you declared, tucking a last curl behind his ear, showing off his beautiful face. 

Though he lacked the classic Valyrian traits, replaced by a perfect reflection of the former Lord Commander of the City Watch, the gods had blessed him with the gift of beauty. If you hadn't been already married to him, you would have been jealous of the woman he called his wife.

 Jacaerys rolled his eyes and pulled you down on his lap. From this close, you could see every freckle across his nose and cheeks. His lips were a slightly darker pink, stained from the cherries he just ate. You couldn't resist kissing them. 

The kiss was brief, causing the prince to pout.  

You gave him another kiss, this one slightly longer, then stood when he tried to chase after your lips for more. You knew that game. You'll never be ready on time if you let him get what he wants. 

''Later,'' you promised, lifting his chin and pulling down a single strand of hair, curling it around your finger. 

He'll look glorious with his crown.

—

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[simpingforbots]

Idk if you do small oneshots if not I'm sorry

But ever since I saw the a human ended on Cybertron with Megatronus I've been screaming internally by how adorable it was, could you do a small Megatronus x human story where the little human sneaked out and when it came back it was all full of mud and so Megatronus gave them a bath like he does in the "what if a human ended in Cybertron"

hello yes i am happy to do one shot. hope you will enjoy it.

Little heaven

This is not right. You are not supposed to be here at all. stifling your scream, you jumped out of the way of huge bot, who did not even noticed you, continuing on it’s way while chuting with another bot. You then had to quickly gather your self as to not get stomped to death by another bot, rushing towards the gutters, not caring if you gonna find your self among trash and mud. You stutter a bit, feeling gag coming up and started coughing. How did all come to this?

Well you used to live a peaceful life on earth – working, having your own rented apartment, hell you were even going for promotion until you wee suddenly kidnapped by huge bug like creatures, who kept you for experiments, which were not pretty. One day you managed to escape the ship, only to run in to battlefield between your captors and huge fucking robots. You had to run for cover with all your might, trying not to scream as explosion rung all around you and ground shook. Finally running behind a huge rock, you sight with relief for a moment, looking up and trying to figure out your next step while your heartbeat echoed in your head. It did not last long as one of the biggest bots suddenly took cover behind the same rock and looked down, notisisng you.

Megatronus had to take cover, the fire was to much to take and he need to come up with some kind of tactic, diving for cover behind one of many metal rocks, taking a break for a second until he noticed movement in the corner of his optic. Quickly looking down, expecting a grenade only to find some strange small creature, cowering before his presence. It looked like it was made out of the same thing like Quintessons, but instead this little one did not had metal plating. N fact you looked like nothing like Quintessons, more like a cybertronion in fact. Just made out of flash and with strange things on your head. He had no time to think as an actual grenade landed next to you and quickly grabbed you, surprised for a moment just how small you are and returned the grenade to sender. When all was over and Quintessons ran, he let a sigh of relief, letting his shoulders slump with ease and focus on you, still on his fist pressed against his chest. Slowly pulling his servo away from his chest and unwrapped it, he saw that the strange thing was still alright, just scream and cowering in his hand, not bigger then his digits. Cocking his helm a bit, he nudged you with one of his digits, feeling your soft flesh give in and you whimper from suden touch. He looked up alerting others and changed the grip on you, piking you up by scarf of your clothes, showing you off to others. And with that your fate was sealed. You were brought to place, quickly figure out that those who took you in was some kind of royalty, living in a very-very big place with gold and other luxury. Out of 13 strange robots he seemed to be the tallest and the meanest, well at least when in publick, in privet you found out he was quite soft, choosing to shower you in affection,  tenderness and “love”. You felt like some kind of chihuahua dog to be honest, a candy eye or something like his. All your communication attempts were discarded like gibberish and intelligible, though you did learn how to repeat his name in rough ways, but it was now shown like some kind of party trick to others. You would always be by his side no matter what, meeting, walking or just doing simple boring work, you must be there. You “followed” him around either by ridding his shoulder or ridding a strange floating pad that would never stray away from him, which you honestly did not prefer as your legs would wobble any time you tired to stand up. When you were alone with him, he would take of his mask, showing a surprisingly soft face for someone with his status and would let deep soft rumble when you were brave enough to reach and touch it. He would also pet you time to time with his huge digits, running them across your hair or your back, something that helped him o calm down or relax during boring meetings. You were also provided some kind of armour, small and somewhat resembling his, but you still did your best not to wear it. But now you used it to your advantage. With enough materials, you managed to get time of being alone and snuck out, climbing down a huge tower and getting on to the streets of strange metal city. Though you did not plan this far and had to quickly hide in gutters just to stay alive, silently regretting running away. You slumped against the wall, trying to calm your heart from beating like crazy all while trying to form next step of plan. Surely if you return the big one won’t be to happy to see you like this and learn that you snuck off, on the other hand maybe if you scavenged around a bit more you might find a way home. Nodding to your self, you pushed your self up and strated traversing though pipes, hoping to find a way to the surface.

Megatronus reached his room after another boring meeting, he really did not wanted to sit there without you, but you were asleep in your little nest of pillow so he decided to et you rest. He rumble with joy as he slowly walked up to the nest only to freeze. You were not there, and a strange rope like structure hand down from the edge. You made this to escape. Why? How? When? All sort of questions run though his mind as he looked all over his quarters, trying to find you hiding somewhere. You were not there, leading to the only way he can find you. Piking up a tablet, he turned it on and immideatly got your location. He knew you would do this someday, just not this soon, so he installed a tracker in to your armour, which was a great gift from Solus, he really should thank them. Watching a small red dot on map moved slowly, he resumed you were looking for safe space and with map in hand, left the quarters and ventured down in to Iacon. Of course he immideatly got all the unwanted attention, he just kept walking, following the small dot, guessing you got in to gutter system as he was literally walking on top of you now, silently following. Soon he was left alone by his people and managed to follow you in to the exit, stopping and waititng. It did not even took a click for you to climb out, looking around for any danger, yet failing to see him right behind you, and climb out. You looked horrible and miserable, almost falling over immideatly and trying to get up. He wanted to see what is it you planed, letting out a huff, that gave him away as you turned around so fats he ha to tack a step back. You strated screaming and ran, probably looking for another hole to hide, yet your size gave you a lot of advantage just as many disadvantages, like being small and slow. He quickly wrapped his servos around you, piking you up and heading back, ignoring your weird chatter and kicking and soft punches. You were just upset about being cough for doing something you were not, but for now he was glad you were relatively alright. Returning to his room, he left you in a box, knowing now that your little nest could serve as escape plan as well, leaving to go get some cleaning supplies to help you clean off. Upon his return you were sulking in the corner, refusing to say anything and just let him do what ever he wants, which was much batter then with you fighting him all the way. Piking you up, he easily took the armour of and gently lowered you in to a cube with water getting first layer of muck off, than added the soap and started slowly rubbing the mud of you. Ususaly he would let you do it by your self, knowing how you valued this small moment of privacy and how violently you fought for this, but now it was sort of punishment for running away, not letting you do it by your self at all. When you were done, he wrapped you up in towel and hold you close, just happy that he managed to find you before any harm come to you and quietly pondered if it will be best to make sure you won’t run away again. EVER.

[c0llisiion]

NEED TO KNOW.02 — J.JK

Pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader

Genre: smut

★: npr, slight angst, dadsbsf!jk x reader, older!jk, slight degradation, mentions of cheating, praise, dumbification, unprotected sex (practice safe sex plzzz), cunnilingus, slight bondage? Idk lol , rough sex, crying, breeding — lmk if i missed any!

W/C: 3,175

A/N: HIIIII ITS FINALLY HERE YALL WTFFFFFFF 😭😭😭😭 i defo spent too much time on this ( soz i have been very busy ) THIS ONES FOR ALL THE POOKS THAT HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR PART 2 <33 NJOYYY

.01 <3

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ This is strictly fiction. Any scenario or situation should not be taken seriously. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The tension was there. A very thick tension. You stared daggers at the man sitting in front of you. He was being nonchalant. Giggling and laughing with your dad and acting like nothing had happened between you two. 

Things were going well between you guys since ‘that’ day. You told him about your undying feelings for him, and he understood it. He had you wrapped around his arms as you rested your head on his shoulders and sat together in the warm bath water with Your back pressed against his chest. Even though the moment lasted for a short while, you still savored it. His warm breath was on your face, whispering sweet nothings that had made your cheeks flush. His soft heartbeat matched yours. He was so gentle with the aftercare. Had you propped up on the bathroom counter while he ran a warm washcloth down your sticky body, making sure to be gentle. He even washed you down with your favorite body wash. Hands gently ran water down your sweaty hair, making sure you were clean and ready before he left, and since then you have been dating him. Or so you would think. 

It was a huge decision. This could affect both of your lives negatively if things go wrong. Of course, you didn’t tell your father about it. Imagine the betrayal he would feel if he found out his daughter was sleeping around with his best friend under his roof. In no way, shape, or form could he know. For the time being, He would eventually come to know, right? 

Jungkook was always the ‘nonchalant’ type. He was very laid-back about you. There was not really a label to your relationship. He would treat you like his girlfriend, yes, but he would never outright tell you that you were his girlfriend. He would always go to clubs and other posh places where women younger than you would hit on him continuously. Who wouldn't, though? A rich, young-looking old man is the perfect eye candy for gold diggers. You of course voiced out your frustrations to him, but he again and again brushed it off, saying, ‘It’s nothing to worry about’ , ‘I only have my eyes on you, doll.’ Or the worst one so far: ‘We are not even that serious.’ It hurt a lot, but you brushed it off because you loved this man and, most definitely, the sex he gave you. 

He was passionate in bed. Unlike anyone you have ever slept with. He would be gentle and slow with you most of the time. His girthy length slowly went in and out of you as your eyes tried to stay fixated on the movie. Hands on your hips, squeezing the soft flesh as he whispered in your ears in a sultry voice. “Taking me in so well doll… your pussy is sucking me in so good, has me controlling myself..” he darkly chuckles before adding. “Dripping all over my couch cushions… who is going to clean this up huh? making a sweet little mess.. dw i will help you with it baby…gonna have you staining this entire couch …” you shuddered as he trailed wet kisses up your neck and nibbled on your ears. His other hand squeezed and tugged on your tender breasts. Toying with your puffy nipples in between his fingers. You let out a soft huff as his cock hit your sweet spot. “What’s wrong, doll? Too much..? I thought my little slut liked it when i went deep..” he chuckled before thrusting into you with some force, making your stomach tumble and turn. 

  It was getting infuriating at this point. Your fork dug into the piece of filet mignon with great force, your hands shaking at the tension as your mind raced off to all those memories you made with him. And it all went down the drain because of a stupid mistake he made. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You haven’t talked much this evening..” All the laughter and banter had died down, and the attention was on you. You were brought back to earth when your dad spoke up. But someone HAD to chime in. “Yeah y/n… What’s wrong with you? You didn’t even greet me at the front door… Don't you know how rude that is?” Jungkook yammered. His eyes had a glint of mischievousness. He had his stupid smirk on, and he talked to you in a tone he definitely knew you didn’t appreciate. You glared at him with pure anger burning in your eyes. Out of rage, you pushed your chair and got up before stomping your way upstairs to your room. Jungkook watched as you walked upstairs. That stupid smirk widening.

You were walking as fast as you could down the huge hallway. You just needed to lock yourself in your room, cry, and sleep. Your thoughts were interrupted when a rough hand grabbed you by the nape of your neck. His calloused fingers press the sides of your neck in a tight grip. Before you could protest and push him away, he- “Don't even think about moving or opening that fucking mouth.. Don't make me do something I will regret..” He whispered in your ears with gritted teeth. His hot breath and words fanned the lobes of your ears, sending a pulse to your core. 

Jungkook pushed you into your room, making you stumble and fall to the ground. He quickly locked your bedroom door before turning around to face you. He grabbed you by your throat, making you stand up on your feet before speaking up. “What is wrong with you, huh? Can't you just act normal? Why do you have to put up a fit?” “You tell me!” You spat. Jungkook huffed angrily and rolled his eyes at your response. He let go of your neck before pushing you down on your bed. “Are you acting like this because of that incident? Why are you still hung up on it? Move on. Nothing happened between us.” Your eyes widened at his words. How dare he say that after what he did? “Move on?? MOVE ON?!” You bursted. “HEY! Quite down. Don’t raise your voice at me.” Jungkook quickly put you in place, making you roll your own eyes. “I can't believe you right now.. You outright went out and cheated on me and you are asking me to move on? What are you on jungkook??? You are supposed to be my boyfriend. You told me you wanted to date me. Marry me and for me to HAVE YOUR KIDS,” Jungkook sighed, lowered his head, and softly muttered, “i know what i told… in that moment…” Your face drained of all color. You stared at him in disappointment, as you knew what was going to be his next words. “What do you want from me!!!” You got up and screamed in Jungkook's face before walking towards your door. “Wait-“ Jungkook yanked you by your wrist, pulling you away from the door.

“Let go of me, you moron!” You tried freeing yourself from his grip, but he was quick to throw you back on your bed. He got closer and climbed on top of the bed, his legs on either side of yours. Jungkook had a sour expression as he started unbuckling his belt. “Don't fucking touc-“ a harsh slap landed on your right cheek before he grabbed you by your jaw and smashed his lips onto yours. It was a struggle for dominance. You were reluctant to let him in, but he pushed through and started kissing you sloppy and hard. Your protests were muffled by his hungry mouth. Muscular tongue swirled around you, tasting you. You eventually gave in. Eyes fluttering, and your hands reached to hold his face but was pinned down almost immediately by Jungkook's strong ones. He pulled back, and a string of saliva connected your lips. He gazes down at your fucked-out face with a dark glint. “So pathetic..” he said before cupping his hand over your clothed cunt. You gasp as you feel his palm push into your sopping hole. Dampening the thin fabric. He landed a harsh slap on your clit, making you buck your hips for more. “So eager and needy aren’t you?” He teased you before shoving his fingers down your throat, making you suck and swirl your tongue around his digits. "Yeah, thats right… just like that…” he hissed. He nudged his knee into your pussy, pressing harder against the heat. Your eyes rolled back, and your thighs quivered as he continued.

He pulled his digits out of your mouth, a thick layer of saliva coating the slender fingers, before he shoved all three into your little cunny. Your eyes shot out wide, and your mouth fell open as he curled his fingers into you. “Dont make any noise… don’t want Daddy to hear you cry like a bitch because of me, right?” You covered your mouth with your free hand and nodded. Jungkook smirked and increased his pace. His fingers went in and out of your pussy at an inhumane rate, occasionally pressing down hard on your poor clit making you whine and whimper. He loved watching you writhe and suffer under his mercy. Something about you becoming putty under him, and he is only using his fingers. Your pussy gave out quickly as clear liquid gushed out and coated his digits. “Coming so quickly, doll? I thought you hated me?” He darkly chuckled before pulling out and slapping your cunt once again. You winced and moaned.

Jungkook started removing his clothes, using his loose tie to keep your mouth shut. He ripped your panties off and pushed your dress to your ribs. He stood at the foot of the bed and pulled you towards him before attacking your sensitive pussy. You grabbed his hair and mewled loudly as his tongue started working on your pussy. You were still sensitive from the aftermath of your previous orgasm. Your eyes spilled tears and you tried pushing his head away. Jungkook landed a harsh slap on your ass making you stop your movements. His tongue lapped at your pussy. Plunging into your sensitive hole and sucking your nub. He pressed his face closer into your pussy as your thighs clenched around his head. He held you down with his strong hands, and you were completely at his mercy. Your moans were slightly muffled by the makeshift gag. You grabbed his hair tighter, making him groan against your pussy, The vibrations sent jolts of pleasure to your core. His tongue swirled at your core. His nose was buried in your clit and his chin glistened with your juices, running down his neck. Your legs quivered and shook as he ate you out like a starved man. He pushed your thighs up, pinning them to your chest. A guttural moan escaped your lips as he pushed his fingers inside your soaking wet pussy, his lips sucking and biting down on your poor clit. “Mmm.. you taste so fuckin’ good, doll…” His fingers went in and out, curling and twisting, making you arch your back against his touch. You were seeing stars, and  was suddenly pulled back to earth as he moved away. He looked down at your disheveled state, a devilish smirk was plastered on his face as he watched your eyes fill up with tears. “Pathetic little toy…”

He climbed onto the bed, his knees on either side of you. His lips and neck glistened with your arousal making you shiver, his hair all over the place from your tugging and pulling. Your eyes landed on his hips as you watched him fumble with his pants, swiftly pulling out his aching cock. His cock stood hard and tall; you could see the precum leaking from the tip, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sigh- Your eyes almost popped out of your skull as Jungkook plunged into your pussy with no warning. His thick girth stretched you out perfectly. He groaned as he watched your pussy accustom to his size, even though he had fucked you multiple times. “So tight… mmf- so fucking tight…”. He started moving; slow thrusts quickly turned into fast, harsh ones. You grabbed onto his biceps for stability, digging your nails into his arms as he mercilessly fucked into your cunny. Your eyes were fixated on his face as you watched his face contort in pleasure and greed. He loved watching the little bulge that formed in your abdomen whenever he took you to pound town. “God.. you see that doll? Do you feel me in your little tummy? You’re so tiny… takin’ me in so fuckin’ well…” You glanced down at your abdomen and moaned, your shaky hand reaching down to feel the mound. Jungkook's hand found yours, and he pressed down on it, sending jolts of pleasure after pleasure down to your core. His thrusts never seemed to stop as he continued drilling your pussy. Your thighs and his pelvis coated in a milky layer of your arousal. You writhed and squirmed under his build, his cock hitting all your right spots.

Jungkook grabbed your arms and pinned them to your sides, making sure you didn't move. “Watch it doll… you better stay still and act like a good fucking girl for me.. or else im gonna stop all of this and leave you right here… all needy and bothered, got it?” You cried at his command and nodded, not wanting to disobey him. “Will you behave from now onwards?” He asks, landing a slap on your face before grabbing your chin. You nodded, looking up into his eyes with your tear-filled ones. Jungkook smirked at your submission. He couldn’t help but find it extremely arousing. “Yeah? Gonna act like a good -thrust- girl f’me? You’re a good girl for -thrust- daddy right?” He said, in between harsh thrusts, your body was jerking upwards at each one of them. Your body arched off the bed, and you nodded incoherently. Babbles and random words left your lips as Jungkook pounded into you. He leaned forward and trapped you under his body. His lips found your neck, leaving dark hickeys and bites all over. “You’re mine. Baby. All mine. And nothings going to change that.” You cried out and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to your body.

Jungkook chuckled before going rougher on you. Your thighs shook inhumanely, and your nails dug into his back, leaving scratches and bruises. “Pussy was made for me… you feel so good.. so so good…” His mouth continued its relentless assault on your neck, marking you with as many hickeys as he could. Jungkook growled as he felt your pussy clench around his length, signaling that you were close. He lets out a low, rough moan against your neck as he keeps moving against you, his body responding to you and your body in all the right ways. He detaches from your neck for a moment and takes a handful of your hair in his hand, tipping your head back so that you’re looking up at him. “You close baby?” You nod incoherently, your only focus being coming around his dick. He slowly lifts himself up and throws one of your legs over his shoulder, gripping your waist as he helps you reach your climax. His fingers found your throbbing clit, before tugging and pinching the poor nub. You gripped the sheets and threw your head back as the pleasure got more intense. The makeshift gag coated in a thick layer of your saliva. You were a babbling mess. Your brain was mush, and the only thing that is getting registered in your mind is Jungkooks dick going in and out of your cunt. Jungkook found all of this hot and sexy. He loved watching you become putty under him. He loved how you were basically under his mercy. “Look at you… such a mess… and how were you acting minutes ago…? Shouting and -thrust- yelling…” he chuckled darkly. “You probably don’t even know what im saying right now… Cus you’re so cockdrunk and dumb to think of anything else but my dick…”

You screamed out a bit too loudly and buck your hips before squirting all over the sheets and jungkook. A stream of clear liquid gushed out of your pussy. His thrusts and words sending you to another dimension. He grins as he feels you release again, the sound of your cry and the feel of your body shuddering and trembling beneath him sending waves of pleasure through him. He keeps his fingers moving against you for a few moments, trying to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible before withdrawing them slowly. He continued fucking into you, trying to reach his own orgasm. He kisses you deeply and hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as his body continues to press down against you.

You were too out of it. Your eyes fluttered as you came down from your high. You weakly looked at him. His forehead was coated in a thin layer of sweat that ran down his body. You pulled him closer to your body and let him fuck into you. “Gosh baby… you’re so good f’me…” you whined and nodded, another knot starting to build up in your stomach. “Im gonna fill you up so well doll… gonna have you leaking my cum… would you like that? You want me to fill you up?” He asked, looking at you, and just smirked because he knew you were too out of it to reply.

He moves his hands down to your hips, grabbing them and flipping you over onto your stomach. His body quickly moves over yours once more, pinning you down on to the bed. He presses his body against yours from behind, his cock grinding into you in a slow, harsh rhythm, his chest pressed against your back, his lips close to your ear as he speaks. “You’re mine, do you understand that? I’m never gonna let you go…” with a few more thrusts, jungkook presses down and fills you up with his hot cum. His heavy balls emptying every last drop into your fucked out pussy. He groaned and moaned in your ears, holding you close to his body as he came down from his high. His breath was ragged and uneven.

He pulls out of you and watches it slowly drip out of your puffy lips. He collapses right next to you and pulls you into his chest. Stroking your sweaty hair and back. “I love you… I love you so much… and im sorry… i really am okay?” You hum softly, finally being able to register his words. “We will talk about this later, okay? I don’t want to lose you…” he pulls you in closer to his body and sigh, loving the warmth of your body against his own, but is quickly interrupted when- 

“Jungkook??? Y/n??? What's going on in there???”

Shit. 

A/N: THANKS FOR READINGGGG I HOPE YALL LIKED IT 💔💔💔💔 think i might js turn into a jungkook blog 🤣😹🙏

Masterlisssttt :3

[littlelovelunette]

vi getting jealous of reader… (idk I love your fics !

Lost?

The neon glow of Zaun's undercity bathed the dimly lit bar in shades of green and violet, casting long shadows against the grimy walls.

The air was thick with the scent of smoke, oil, and the sharp tang of spilled whiskey. It was the kind of place where people minded their business—unless they had a reason not to.

Vi leaned against the bar, nursing a glass of something strong, but her attention wasn’t on the drink. It was on you.

You were laughing—too much. Smiling—too easily. And not at her.

The worst part? It was at some cocky bastard sitting way too close to you. He was all sharp grins and slick words, practically draping himself over your space like he belonged there.

Vi’s jaw tightened.

She had always been good at keeping her cool. Years in the Lanes had taught her that losing your temper too quickly got you killed. But right now? That restraint was hanging by a thread.

Your eyes flicked to hers for just a second—bright with amusement, unaware of the storm brewing behind Vi’s gaze. Or maybe you were aware. Maybe you were doing this on purpose.

She let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders. Relax. Don’t start something.

But then the guy leaned in closer. Too close. Close enough that his fingers brushed your arm, close enough that Vi saw the way his lips curled in a smirk.

Her glass hit the counter with a sharp clink.

She was on her feet before she could think better of it, boots heavy against the floor as she crossed the space between you. The guy barely had time to react before Vi’s hand clamped down on his shoulder—firm, unyielding.

"You lost, buddy?" Her voice was deceptively calm, but there was an edge to it, like a knife just beneath silk.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing. "Relax, sweetheart, we were just talking."

Vi’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. "Yeah? Talk somewhere else."

You blinked up at her, half amused, half surprised. "Vi, you jealous?"

She scoffed, but her grip on the guy’s shoulder tightened. "Tch. Like hell. Just don’t like guys who don’t know how to take a hint."

The guy finally got the message, slipping away with a muttered, "Damn, alright," before disappearing into the crowd.

Vi turned to you, arms crossed. "You enjoying yourself?"

You grinned. "A little."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You’re a menace."

"You like it," you teased.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she reached for your hand, tugging you closer.

"C’mon," she murmured, voice lower now, more private. "If you wanna make me jealous, do a better job next time."

You chuckled, letting her pull you away from the bar. "Noted."

And just like that, the tension in her shoulders eased. Because as much as she hated the feeling of jealousy crawling under her skin, there was one thing she knew for sure.

You were hers. And everyone in this damn bar was gonna know it.

[negrowhat]

Fave Kisses of 2024

Continuing on with the handful of prompts I chose to do from @babyangelsky 's 2024 QL Wrap Up!

JackJoke's First Kiss from Jack & Joker. Oh it was like the tension pot had finally started to boil. Just bubbling and brewing and steam was finally escaping...whistling even. Jack had returned home full on ready to finally confess and Joke, who already KNEW, was sitting there ready to receive his blessing. Oh Joke was so ready for that kiss that he practically climbed into Jack's lap to keep it going. You could see the hunger in Joke's eyes and Jack's eager but gentle approach to the kiss. 10/10.

Dohoe and Juyeong's Snow Kiss from Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo. Something about the way they kind of lost themselves in that kiss. I was shocked Dohoe kissed Juyeong out in the open like that, but he was in a different place in his journey so maybe it's not so shocking. Juyeong's hands around Dohoe's waist??? Oh it was my favorite part and my heart all but stopped when Dohoe suddenly came to his senses and pulled away.

GreatTyme's Guitar Kiss from 4 Minutes. That soft ass dream kiss from Dr. Tyme's 4 Minutes had me absolutely OBSESSED. Idk it was just so romantic and so sweet and so perfect. I could just feel the warmth coming from the bubble Tyme was dreaming about. Tyme's 4 Minutes is still my absolute fave part of the whole series.

Huai'en and Xiabao's First Kiss from Meet You At the Blossom. I've talked about it and talked about it and talked about it some more. None of y'all are surprised to see this kiss on this list. I don't even need to explain why because I'm sick of explaining lol. Go watch our first ever Uncensored Wuxia BL. Nothing is implied it's all there. Go watch it now! MYATB is from the same writer of My Stand-In if that helps.

Sickly Phaya kisses Tharn from The Sign. That man woke up from a coma (that almost supernaturally killed him), snatched out his IV, and escaped the hospital. And where did he go? Not to go check-in with his lil granny and baby sister! NO! He went to his man's house and shoved his tongue down his throat. Man was white as a sheet and all he wanted to do was get his dick wet. And Tharn just let him. I loved that kiss and the makeout session that followed.

YakDee over shoulder kiss from Wandee Goodday. Pretty certain it was from their last love scene because they were kissing. I don't even remember how the scene went exactly (they fucked so much) but that lil peck over the shoulder was so gorgeous. Yak had his chest pressed to Dee's back and the 'YY' necklace was displayed so clearly. 100/10.

XNamping's High Heat Encounter from Every You, Every Me. That little peck right before things started to heat up. Just a quick lil lip touch to gauge the temperature...y'know see if it's what they both really want. It is. I know X was FREAKING out, couldn't believe he was finally being intimate with his long time crush.

SanVee's final night kiss from Century of Love. I'm a huge fan of the soft cuddly kisses we got from SanVee and that snuggle session we got right before San's last day was my fave. The way San holds Vee to his chest so tightly as they share gentle kisses. The impending doom hanging heavy over their heads. It hurt so fucking good.

RyuZen's Shower Kiss from The Rebound. One thang MeenPing gon do is kiss in a shower and do it right. Meen's giant ass does a great job of making Ping look smol and when you add water to that it is just so visually pleasing. I don't remember much else about the kiss except Ryu was all over Zen and Zen almost couldn't keep up. If we get another MeenPing series I hope it can sit at the top next to Gangster Oppa.

2J Bathroom Kiss from CityBoy_Log. The most recent volume of CBL was really good for 2J. They had just made up after Jihan ghosted Jaejun and IDK how Jihan conned Jaejun into helping him bathe but they do wind up in the tub together, fully clothed though because Jaejun said he was just going to help him wash his hair. And the next thing I know Jihan has Jaejun pressed up against the shower wall. 2J's kisses tend to be very audible and this one was amplified and my gawd those boys can kiss. And when Jaejun slams Jihan against the other wall and they finally share their 'I Love You's I was clutching the pearls. I'm realizing I enjoyed CBL more than I thought.

SunJunior's First Kiss from Caged Again. Oh it was so sweet. Love that they were hiding under the covers. I love that Sun had finally told Junior about him being a panther. That's a big secret to share and it did give me Malec vibes which could also add to my love for the scene. Love that Junior smiled at Sun the whole time. It was a great first kiss during a vulnerable moment for Sun and Junior. Loved how warm and secure it looked under that cover.

To my mutuals, please forgive me if y'all have multiple mentions from this one post...

[bl00d1nk]

ꜱʟᴀꜱʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ; ᵈᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

​🇨​​🇭​​🇦​​🇷​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇸​: brahms heelshire, patrick bateman, herbert west

​🇼​​🇦​​🇷​​🇳​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬​​🇸​: slashers ofc, brahms lack of hygiene, brahms being possesive, brahms stalking you basically,patrick being a dick, vauge nsfw in patricks, dead people obvi, body snatching, also not read over so if theres any mistakes whoopsies

​🇦​​🇺​​🇹​​🇭​​🇴​​🇷​​🇸​ ​🇳​​🇴​​🇹​​🇪​: first time writing for slashers omds + writing for the first time properly in like a year so teehee also lemme know if you want this for other slashers :PPP also i tried to write this v gn but idk if i acc did so pls gimme suggestions on how to keep everything in my writing inclusive plsss!!! also if ur wondering what "w/" means it just means with im just too lazy to write with teehee

¬𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙷𝙼𝚂 𝙷𝙴𝙴𝙻𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚁𝙴¬

𖦹 stinky

𖦹 i dont mean that in a funny way like this man fucking REEKS

𖦹 this means you will have to get him to wash himself

���� only perk of that is showering n bathing w/ him, its a real big part of your relationship

𖦹 he likes it because hes close to you and it gives him a lot of comfort and feels really cared for if you wash his hair for him + likes the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp

𖦹 he likes leaving things he thinks you'll like all around the house

𖦹 he found a crusty ass ring he'll think you'll like?KABOOSH!!!!! its on the bathroom counter

𖦹 he also doesn't take too kindly to anyone you talk to that isn't him, he gets really jealous n upset over that

𖦹 this makes him extremly bratty unfortunately

𖦹 prepare for him being in the walls and banging on them for hours on end to piss you off and placing that stupid doll everywhere just to get a scare out of you

𖦹 will literally refuse to do anything for you

𖦹 buttt you can make it up to him by telling him theres nothing to worry about n making him a wee sandwich + giving him kisses, easy peasy squeeze the lemon (im really hoping some of yous got that reference)

𖦹 brahms also likes cuddling

𖦹 a lot

𖦹 you're sitting down reading or on your phone? not without him on your lap nuzzing into your neck having a wee nap

𖦹 you might end up with dead legs by the end of it but hey! it was worth it

𖦹 probably......

𖦹 he just stares at you a lot but dw! not in a creepy way (from his perspective at least), he's just admiring your beauty

𖦹 really likes it when you read to him + it puts him to sleep

𖦹 also loves it when you brush his hair, surprise surprise it also puts him to sleep

𖦹 CLINGY!!!!!!!!! so very very very very CLINGY

𖦹 if you leave the room for a second he will follow doesnt matter if he knows where you're going he will follow

𖦹 gets so upset if you leave during cuddling even if its to pee

𖦹 he will whine n grasp n tug at what you're wearing in an attempt to get you to stay w/ him

𖦹 the time he spends following n watching you could be stalking atp

𖦹 seperation anxiety? he knows her, very well

𖦹 will cry if you leave the house until you come back, n the moment you do he practically jumps you, crying and wailing into your shoulder begging you not to leave him ever again

𖦹 will have no intentions of letting go of you for the rest of the day

𖦹 he also really like sleeping in the same bed w/ you

𖦹 he likes that he knows you're there, you can tuck him in, read to him, cuddle him, give him forehead kisses n comfort him in case he has a nightmare or vice versca

𖦹 n e ways 8.5/10 -1 for stinkyness, -0.5 for well him being him ig

¬𝙿𝙰𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙽¬

𖦹 before i get into this one i actually hate patrick bateman w/ a burning passion for very obvious reasons so i struggled HARD w/ this

𖦹 alr so we all saw that les mis poster in the opening scene so he deffo would bring you along to watch any high end musicals w/ him

𖦹 SKINCARE!!!!!!!!! he has a whole ass ROUTINE which he will explain to you in great detail and explain why the water has to be a certain temp n why this needs to be put on this way n that needs to be put on that way

𖦹 would let you do skincare on him but beware that he will check the entire ingredients list before you put it on his face

𖦹 its rather boring to listen to but he looks so proud of himself while explaining it, how could you not listen?????

𖦹 he spoils you rotten like its acc so bad

𖦹 you wanted those fancy ass pairs of shoes? they're already in your hands

𖦹 you want a reservation at dorsia? you've got one

𖦹 you literally want anything in the world? you'll have it before you even know you want it

𖦹 he obviously doesn't like people apart from himself so when he found the slightest bit of attraction to you he immediatley became infatuated with you and your life

𖦹 why were you making him feel this way? how were you making him feel this way? was it sorcery? was he going insane? yeah

𖦹 suprise suprise this did lead him to asking you out which led you up to here getting whatever you want

𖦹 hes a jealous fucker i can tell you that

𖦹 especially when he sees you within a 6ft distance of paul allen

𖦹 he storms over and makes some passive aggresive comment toward the two of you and then tries to keep himself cool w/ some swanky inner monologue and eventually drags you away because he "needed to talk to you"

𖦹 spoiler alert, he didn't

𖦹 all this leads to is some rather lewd acts back at his apartment as he tries to reassure himself that he's much better than paul allen and taunts you asking if you think paul allen could make you feel this way

𖦹 rants on to you about his music collection and explains how he thinks this song led them to stardom and someone was an idiot for not releasing this and that as a single and not putting these songs in this album and yadayadaya

𖦹 great if you actually are bothered to listen to him rant on for ages horrific if you aren't, gets quite offended if you don't show much interest in his music

𖦹 i get if if you don't tho, its really something...

𖦹 we all know this man is a complete germaphobe so be absolutley horrifically aware of that unless you fancy getting yelled at

𖦹 he love love LOVESS watching texas chainsaw massacare with you, he loves it when you twos just sit there in silence and cuddle while watching people get brutally attacked n chased, how romantic!

𖦹 finds it funny when you grimace or go 'oh my god' at any brutal scene in it

𖦹 touchy

𖦹 v e r y t o u c h y

𖦹 at any public event he always has a hand snaked around your waist or has his arm linked in yours

𖦹 even in is apartment he still has that hand snaked aorund your waist

𖦹 not a fan of kissing bc he's a germaphobe but because he knows were you've been most of the time he dislikes it a little less

𖦹 prefers giving forehead kisses tho as its quick and much more hygenic than lips

𖦹 god that was tough to write but overall, 7.5/10, -2.5 for being himself. i hate him too much to give him a better rating so ja

¬𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚃 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃¬

𖦹 i am so horrendously excited to write this because for the last like 4 days i have not stopped thinking about reanimator, i eat sleep breath the franchise, and herbert west is such a giggle so teehee

𖦹 alright if you're not in the science field or have any connection to dan hes probably not going to take an interest in you as you're not one of his areas of interest

𖦹 if you are in the category of herbert wests interests well done! he tolerates you

𖦹 like patrick would notice how weird he felt around you and would probably blame it on 'primal urges' ew

𖦹 he would most likely ignore them until he can't, and it eventually all bubbles over and he just can't resist inviting you to his basement of wonders

𖦹 he just watches you intently the entire time your there much like brahms does, also not in a creepy way (in his eyes) just admiring you

𖦹 he probably goes on a rather detailed explanation of his work and what he did to get here

𖦹 if you ever feel a lil faint abt all that stuff he just puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder cuz hes a lil awkward

𖦹 lowkey enlists you alongside dan to go steal bodies and experiment on them

𖦹 if you ever get attacked by one of the re-animated he literally doesn't leave your side, mainly to see the severity of your injuries to examine the strength of the reanimated and the other tiny bit because he cares for you

𖦹 has shit talking sessions about dr hill w/ you, it mainly consists of him getting rather heated over the fact he plagiarizes his work and ya know the whole 6-12 mins thing

𖦹 is very clingy with you when dr hill is around as he doesn't want him to make any creepy ass remarks about you so he sticks to your side like he sticks to his research

𖦹 really appreciates is when you cook for him as he's a total basement dweller and doesn't leave it for food

𖦹 so lets say you actually did make something for him he would be really surprised and would be rather amused that you care enough to make him something and he'll gladly eat it

𖦹 also doesn't sleep a lot, so if and when he comes up from the basement he will be taking a nap on you

𖦹 speaking of him taking naps, he'll just plonk on top of you when he wants to take a nap so

𖦹 yay!!!

𖦹 like patrick with music herbert will rant on about science to you

𖦹 at any time, like you could be in bed ready to finally sleep and then he starts rambling about the R.E.M cycle and how benificial sleep is for the body yet he gets absolutley NONE

𖦹 isn't very good at expressing affection for you bc he's herbert so those naps and his rants are actually his way of showing he rlly likes you

𖦹 kissing isn't his favourite thing in the world bc of germs and stuff, so he presses quick kisses to your forehead, nose and cheek such a gentleman

𖦹 but, when herberts all whiny and annoyed at life he will be down for a cheeky make out sesh

𖦹 he gets very flustered after it which is pretty funny to watch so he usually distracts himself with science

𖦹 i genuinely couldn't tell you if he would use petnames or not

𖦹 will use your name 99.9999999999% of the time, just maybe will call you darling

𖦹 just maybe.....

𖦹 n e ways dunno what else to write so 8.9/10, -1.1 for being a body snatcher ig

omds that was so hard and I was gonna add more characters but i kinda got lazy but PLEEEAAAASSEEEE lemme know what you guys thought ty :3

[lily-sofii]

hiiii I don’t usually request stuff (this is like my first time lol I’m trying to get better at asking for things. social anxiety go brrrr)

anyways I’d like to request a yandere Caleb one shot where mc keeps trying to leave so he forces her to stay w his evol

it’s not too specific, but I hope I at least gave you room to do what you want with it

💕⭐️

(anon is so real with the anxiety of requesting)

Yandere Caleb x reader fluff/hurt (idk)

Just Caleb

Warnings(?): drugging attempt, being forced to stay against your free will

A/N: Idk if it was supposed to be smut, but it’s not. Kinda took inspo from Caleb’s canon where he drugs you. (The name is a joke on the DDLC song "Just Monika")

Caleb sips on his drink as the clock on the wall keeps ticking, feeling as if each quiet click was insulting him. He lets out a tired sigh and puts his colonel hat on, putting the mug he was drinking from into the sink. Getting ready to leave for his night mission he gets stopped suddenly upon hearing the door to your room open, your gazes meeting the second you reach the dark kitchen, washed in the moonlight.

“Pip-squeak? Why are you awake? It’s 2 am.”

You narrow your eyes, cursing yourself out internally for not waiting just a few minutes more. He looked like he was on his way to leave, but you just couldn’t wait anymore. You needed to leave.

“I- uhh…just woke up because I was thirsty, y’know? It isn’t easy to sleep in the thunder outside anyway”

Before you can even attempt to reach the sink, Caleb is already handing you a small drink in a black cup, his other hand reaching up for your forehead.

“Pip-squeak… I’m worried about you. Ever since I took you here, to Skyhaven, you haven’t had any rest. You’re burning up. Here, take this.”

Caleb lowers his hand from your forehead as you take the cup from him, seeing him bring pills to you with his Evol. You look at them and snatch them from the air, taking out a single pill from the packaging. You place one on your tongue and take a sip of the water, making sure you don’t accidentally swallow the pill. You didn’t trust the pill, nor Caleb.

“R-right… Thanks Caleb. Good night”

Caleb smiles and places the, now empty cup, next to the sink, the pills levitating back into the cupboard thanks to his Evol.

You go to your room and sigh, sitting down on the bed, spitting the pill out immediately and grabbing a bottle from your bedside table. You wash out your mouth before spitting the water back into the bottle, being scared that the pill dissolved in your mouth and did something to you.

Caleb fixes his coat as thunder roars outside with a flash lighting up the room and goes to your closed door. He locks you inside, the soft and quiet click of the key locking into place seeming like a bomb going off in the awfully quiet house.

You gasp quietly when you hear the door lock, going to it and pressing your ear against it. You hear Caleb’s muffled voice coming from the other side, his speaking and footsteps slowly moving away, fully quieting down when the front door closes, indicating Caleb has left for his night-time patrol.

You sigh and wrap your fingers around the cold-feeling knob, tugging at it in an attempt to open the door, unsurprisingly failing at the task. Have you expected it to magically open because you want it to?

Slowly you approach the closet where you’ve laid your hunter uniform after bathing, taking out the gun from its holster. Gun in hand, you go back to the door, pointing the muzzle of it at the doorknob considering taking out a silencer.

But what use is it now? Caleb’s already gone anyways, isn’t he?

You grab onto the gun’s grip tightly, your index fingers hovering above the trigger. Taking a deep breath you prepare for the loud noise, your fingers applying pressure to the trigger.

The loud scream of the gun’s shot feels like it echoes in the quiet house for forever, the knob that was initially on the door falling to the ground with a loud clunk. You drop the gun and slightly touch your ears that are ringing from how loud the gun was.

Slowly walking up to the door, your hands push, creaking it open.

Is this it? Can you finally leave?

You smile faintly as you feel your heart ache, making your way to the living room. It was painful to have to leave, but this felt like it was no longer Caleb. The ache in your heart persists as you approach the front door.

It has to be done, you do not feel safe with him anymore.

You touch the knob of the front door, being able to hear the soft pounding of the rain outside. Gently twisting the knob you open the door with a soft squeak, the rain already reaching your feet.

You look back into the dark house before turning back to the outside. Not bothering to put your shoes on from the fear of wasting time you rush outside into the cold air. You barely make it 5 steps before your legs get stopped in their tracks, almost making you fall over. You feel pressure collect around your body as you get lifted 3 feet above the ground.

You get moved back into the house, your clothes dripping from being in the rainstorm for only a few seconds. The pressure around you becomes tighter as you get set down on the ground, the force still keeping you from moving.

“Tsk tsk… Pip-squeak, I thought I could trust you. I told you that you’re burning up, did you even take the pills?”

You shake your head and glare at him, attempting to move under the pressure of his Evol surrounding you. Caleb lets out a sigh and releases the pressure around you.

“Do you remember the injured cat we used to have as kids? Do you want to end up like it? If you don’t stop attempting to run, I will put you on a leash, along with a collar with a bell on it.”

You freeze and look at him, the pressure that kept you bound to the ground slowly disappearing. Standing up on shaky legs you back away, your back hitting against a window after a few steps.

“Pip-squeak, c’mon. You need sleep, and I need to go to work. Now, will you go out of your free will or do I have to use my Evol again?”

You look out of the window, watching the rain fall outside. You want to get out… wait, why doesn’t the window have a sash?

Caleb groans from behind you, his Evol springing back into action.

You gasp when you feel pressure build around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The pressure subsides when he holds your hand, but it is stays there quietly. Threateningly.

“C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

You whine softly when he leads you to his room, softly laying you on his bed. You feel disgusted from how cold his bed feels. He looks down at you as you lie down, his hands bringing a soft blanket over you. His fingers reach for your cheeks, wiping away a tear you didn’t even realize left your eye.

“Is something wrong? Hey… how about I stay with you tonight? The fleet can take care of the stuff I needed to do tonight.”

Caleb smiles and takes his uniform off, putting on his pajamas. He lays down next to you, his arm resting itself on top of your stomach.

You’re never getting out of here.

You’re never getting away from him.

[azzo0]

Summary: Bakugo Katsuki, your childhood best friend, your guard and the man you love most. You're aware he harbours the same feelings for you. Unfortunately, he doesn't deem himself worthy of your love because all he has to offer is his heart and soul. He can't have you, not when there are men far richer and caring than him, waiting to give you the life you deserve.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

Warnings: mild nsfw, angst with happy ending, bakugo is a little insecure, reader and Bakugo are from a tribe and are 20, half-assed in some places because I lost motivation to finish this four months ago. Idk where I was going with this one.

wc: 4.9k

song: Here with me- by d4vd

Bakugo Katsuki's been by the chief's daughter's side for as long as he can remember. His father was the chief's personal guard, so he was trained to guard the chief's daughter, you. Before he was too young to start training, he played with your silly wooden dolls, took baths in the lake with you, played dress up and whatnot. He was your first best friend. Someone who wasn't afraid to interact with you just because you were the chief's daughter.

Once he was a little older, his father started training him, but that didn't stop him from visiting your tent before curfew and spending time with you. You guys were too old for toys and playing house now. Instead, he listened to you read a book for him or tell him about your day and why you find everyone in the tribe so annoying. After you were done with your ramble, he'd tell you about how his training was going. Each time, he vowed he'd be the one selected as your guard and replace the 'shitty' one you currently had. His ears and cheeks went rosy whenever you giggled and told him you were sure he'd win the competition. He rolled his eyes at it, but on the inside, he was a mush. It pushed him to train harder because he wanted to defeat all the men who would compete to be your guard. 

He's everywhere you are once he absolutely destroys everyone in the competition. Outside your tent as you're deep asleep, accompanying you when you go to the other tribes with your father or when you go hunting. He knew your habits and nature like the back of his hand by now.  He loves his job, but he really hates how distracted he is by the person he's supposed to be protecting. 

Even now, his eyes kept trailing to you, studying you for a few seconds too long before returning his attention to the surroundings. He reminded himself that he was here to protect you, or he could lose his position by your side to someone else. He can't help it when you look so damn beautiful sitting on a cloth by the lake, reading some stupid book. Since when did he start looking at you like that? He brushed away the fact that you've always made his heart race. Even when you guys were kids. You've always had this effect on him.

He has to remind himself to not let these feelings out. He keeps them caged inside of him. What's the point of letting them out when you will one day get married to a man far wealthier and caring than him? He was just your guard. Nothing more.

He sneaked a glance at you again—one last time—only for his heart to leap out of his chest when he saw you already looking at him. His face heated up when your lips tugged up on the sides in a smile. You waved at him and motioned for him to come over. 

"Yes?" He questioned, towering over you with the spear on his side. You felt your chest swarm with butterflies as you looked up at the man you spent your entire childhood with. 

"Sit with me, Katsuki. Don't you ever get tired of standing and glaring at nothing?" You said, patting the empty space beside you. 

"No, It's my job," he replied, "And no, I can't sit with you."

"Oh, come on," You grabbed his hand and roughly pulled him down, "Don't worry about father, no one's going to see you here." 

"But-"

You put an index on his lips, the blush on his pale cheeks not going unnoticed, "Hush, Katsuki. You're not losing your job. If you do, I'll shed a few tears and get it back for you." 

He gave in and sat beside you, his back rigid. You two sat in silence with the sun shining down, the only sounds being the rustle of the leaves, birds chirping, and the lake flowing by.

He allowed himself to look at you again. Cardinal eyes took their time exploring your features, basking in the sun. From your hair to your forehead, where an elegant diadem sat, to your nose and your lips, he so desperately wanted to brush with his. 

You closed the book with a snap, almost startling him and shooting him a bright smile. He listened to you tell him about how annoying your father was being these days as he tried to convince you to meet your suitors. His heart sank to his stomach. Of course, many men were waiting for you to choose them. You guys are at that age now, after all. He was going to watch you get married to some chief's son, leave the tribe, and live your own life. You'd never look back at him because he was just a stupid guard. He convinced himself there were men far richer and more handsome than him, waiting to take your hand and treat you to the best life you deserved. But that man wasn't him. He made a move to leave, freezing when he felt a heavy weight in his lap. 

He looked down to see you had put your head in his lap, your eyes already closed. Despite the sorrow in his chest, he smiled. He knew you liked napping in the afternoons. He stayed for a few minutes longer, aware he could have his head chopped off if one of the chief's men found him like this. He removed the diadem from your head so you were more comfortable and got up, taking off his red fur cloak and folding it. He put it under your head as a makeshift pillow. He sat on his knees, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers as you slept, so ethereally beautiful. 

He picked up his spear and stood guard again to protect the woman he loved most, unaware she dreamt of being in his arms as she slept.

It was another sunny day when Bakugo stood outside the chief's tent with two other guards while you were busy inside with your father. His heart felt so heavy. He wanted to throw up. This morning, the tribal chief and his son from a neighbouring land had come to ask for your hand. He knew he'd lost you the moment he saw the chief's son. He stood weary, doing his job, aware that the moment you walked out of that tent, you'd never glance back at him again. Not when you had that annoyingly handsome man by your side. A man who could give you the world you deserved.

What he didn't expect, however, was you running out of the tent with the roaring voice of your father demanding you to get back inside. Your eyebrows were knitted together as you stomped down the wooden stairs, hurling curses at all the men in the tent. Bakugo sprang to your side instantly, concerned for what had happened inside, almost jogging after you as you sped to your tent. 

He stepped inside after you, watching you fall into your bed of blankets and furs, head buried in a pillow. He kneeled by your bed and put a hand on your back. 

He forgot how much he hated seeing you cry, "Y/n," how long had it been since he last used your name? It was only 'my lady' or a sarcastic 'princess' ever since he was selected as your personal guard, "What happened?"

You peeked at him from the pillow. His forehead was free from creases, and his eyes were soft. 

You sat up, sniffling, "Father wants me to marry that stupid chief's son to strengthen ties," You wiped your eyes, spoiling the kohl that had been applied to your lids this morning with precision, "He won't take no for an answer. I don't want to ruin my life just for strengthening some stupid ties."

There was thick silence. Bakugo gulped as he looked into your eyes. His heart was joyous with your answer, but there was still an empty pit deep within him, "Why?" he asked.

"I just told you why," You frowned, "I'm not marrying some random man I feel nothing for."

You stared at Katsuki, searching for a reaction on his face. You almost wanted to shake him by the shoulder and scream at him, 'I don't want another man when I have you.' Your face flushed when you saw his eyes dart down to your lips for a split second. 

Katsuki looked away from your face, eyes settling on your knees instead, "He's perfect for you."

"No, he's not," you scoffed.

"Why are you being so stubborn?" He raised his voice, "Don't you get he's going to take great care of you? He's going to give you everything you deserve."

"What's the point if I don't love him?" 

"You're the chief's daughter, Y/n. You knew this had to happen sooner or later." He stared into your eyes as if he was trying to knock some sense into you. You didn't get why he was being so pushy about the matter in the first place. It was unlike him.

"You sound like father right now. Stop it." You snapped, "Why are you being so pushy, huh? You think I don't know what you actually want to say?"

Bakugo's eyes hardened and narrowed at you defensively, "I don't know what you're talking about."

You put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back on his knees again when he tried to stand up. You grabbed a handful of the fur on his red cloak, the one he'd let you borrow countless times when it was raining outside or when the breeze was too chilly, "You think I don't notice the way you look at me? Do you think I don't see the blush on your face when we talk? I'm not dumb. You like me. So stop spewing shit that goes against what you feel."

Bakugo was dumbfounded as he glared at you with cheeks and ears as red as his eyes. He wanted to deny you. He wanted to tell you you were delusional, but his throat betrayed him. 

"What does that have to do with your proposal?" He scowled.

"It has everything to do with my proposal, for fucks sake!" you yelled, "I like you too, but you're too busy thinking you're not worthy of being by my side!"

His poor heart couldn't take the attacks you unleashed on him one after the other. You liked him too? Even though he had nothing but his heart and loyalty to offer you? You were right about the last bit of your confession. He wasn't worthy of being by your side. Not as your lover. 

"You're right," he mumbled, standing up. He turned around and went to the entrance to your tent, raising the flaps, "I ain't worthy of bein' by your side. You deserve a man that spoils you rotten and gives you the world. That man ain't me."

"Katsuki..."

"I'm fine with just being your guard. So put your feelings away 'cause I'm not the man you're meant to be with." With that, he stepped out of your tent to stand guard again, and your father's men begged you to go back to his tent again. 

With no fight left, you half-heartedly agreed to their pleas. You stopped to glance at Katsuki before going after the men. His eyes were set straight ahead of him with a stone face.

He wouldn't look at you.

Bakugo's heart ached as he trailed a little distance behind you and your soon-to-be fiancé, Keiji. You had signed the papers without a word after the fit you threw over the proposal a week earlier, and now your engagement ceremony was only four weeks away. He wanted to chop off his own head with the sword when you let out a sweet laugh at a joke Keiji made. 

He hated the way the stupid man's hand rested on your waist. He hated the way he looked down at you with hungry eyes. He hated his flawlessly handsome face you were smiling for, but Bakugo was in no position to intervene. He chose this. He chose to let you out of his grasp for someone better. 

You and Bakugo had not spoken to each other since the confessions in the tent. If your eyes happened to meet his, he'd look away like he never saw you in the first place. He simply stood still as a statue and did his job like the other guards. You almost wanted to beg him to talk to you just so you could hear his raspy voice again, but being the stubborn woman, you were, you refused to talk to him first and went and signed the damn papers even though you absolutely hated this man blabbing your ear off as you took a walk around the perimeter of the tribe.

Bakugo watched you giggle and accept a flower Keiji had plucked from a bush. 'She hates that flower, you dickhead,' Bakugo wanted to screech. 

He clicked his tongue and forced himself to look away from you two. At least you were warming up to that stupid man. Or so he thought. He kept telling himself he'd be okay as long as you were happy. 

You were on the verge of tears as you crept through the woods with an archery bow and arrows. You wanted your horse to kick Bakugo with her hind legs. You had signed the papers in hopes Katsuki would change his mind, and now there was only one week till the engagement ceremony. You guys still hadn't uttered a word to eachother. The only reason he was following you here was out of obligation. 

You went still when you spotted a deer. Slowly, you took out an arrow from the quiver strapped to your back and took aim, hoping to land the shot this time. A twig underneath your foot crunched, and the deer's head snapped towards you before it jumped away. Frustrated, you threw the arrow down. You heard a snicker behind you and glanced back, giving Bakugo a glare to make him shut up. 

"You've wandered too far in," He stated. His voice felt foreign.

"Now you've decided to talk?" You snorted, stomping up to him and snatching the reigns of your horse. 

"It's time to head back," he said plainly. 

"You don't get to order me around," You mounted your horse and went deeper into the woods, completely ignoring him. 

Bakugo ran a hand down his face and followed you. You could be really childish at times. He was going to be the one getting in trouble if you got back home late. You were usually exemplary at hunting, but he could tell you were distracted today. He knew the reason for your distraction, too. His chest felt hollow when he thought of you being finally betrothed and taken away. He was questioning his choices now, but it was too late. He was sure you already liked your fiancé by now. 

He felt a drop of water fall on his nose and wiped it away. After a few more drops fell, he looked up at the sky, partly covered by the thick canopy of leaves. It was raining. 

"Oi," He called, "It's rainin'. Get back here."

By the time you steered your horse towards Bakugo's, the rain had grown heavier. The clouds had made it difficult to move through the forest due to the lack of light. Bakugo tried to navigate his way through the darkness and failed. There was no point in trying to start a fire because the rain would put it out anyway. He heard you let out a small curse. He hopped off his horse and took off his cloak, throwing it at you. 

"I don't need it." 

"Shut the fuck up and put it on," Bakugo rolled his eyes. You gave him an ugly stare and wrapped his warm and furry cloak around your shoulders. You wished he'd stop doing things that made your heart swoon so you could hate him.

He took your horse's reins and hopelessly tried to look for a way out. It was of no use, "Well, fuck." he sighed.

"Katsuki, look at that!" He followed the direction of your finger and squinted, trying to look through the rain. It was a shelter cabin and a stable, "Finally. Let's stay there till the rain stops."

You nodded in agreement and left your horse beside his in the stable. Luckily, it had doors, so the horses wouldn't get cold. Bless whoever built this shelter. Katsuki climbed up the logs stacked on top of eachother as makeshift steps and opened the door to complete darkness. You followed after him, leaving the door open as he fumbled with the fireplace, trying to start a fire. After a few tries, the cabin lit up in orange and red hues. You finally closed the door. 

You watched him get up, your eyes falling on his white shirt, now see-through from being wet. It clung to his skin, giving you a fine view of his muscles. The rain had made his wheat blonde hair droop down. He noticed your flustered state and strode up to you cocking his head, "Something the matter, princess?"

You held his scarlet gaze as he undid his buttons, his lips tugged up on one side in the smallest smirk, well aware of the effect he was having on you. He took off his shirt and put it on a chair in front of the fireplace to let it dry. You had no intentions of taking off your clothes, even if they made you squirm in irritation. 

"Oi, come sit here," Bakugo pulled another chair in front of the fire, "You'll catch a cold." 

"Why do you care?" You felt bad for being snappy, but you were also mad at him for ghosting you for three whole weeks and then talking to you as if nothing happened. Bakugo bared his teeth in a snarl and took slow steps towards you, making you back away into the door. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you need to snap at every damn thing I say?" He growled. 

"What the fuck is wrong with me? I should be asking you that question!" You yelled, trying to push him away, "Katsuki, you can't just not talk to me for three whole weeks and then expect everything to be normal!"

"Well, what else do you want me to do? Cheer for you and that fucking Keiji?"

"That's why you're not talking to me?" You sneered, "You did this to yourself, Katsuki."

"But you're happy, ain'tcha? Then go kiss his ass, and don't fucking worry about me." He turned around to lay in the furs, stopping when you spoke again. 

"Do I look happy to you, Katsuki?" You said, your voice small, "What made you think I'm happy with the fact I'm going to be betrothed to him? I signed the papers so you'd come back to me, you fucking idiot."

He slowly turned around to see you tighten his cloak around your shoulders, "I'm not marrying him." 

"Why are you like this?"

"How can I marry another when you're here with me, Katsuki?"

"I have nothing to give you, Y/n. I'm just a guard with a little tent and my heart to offer. Keiji-"

"I'm sick of hearing that name. Stop. I'm not after your treasures or luxuries. I want you. Why don't you see that?! Why do you keep comparing yourself to other men like that? I love you for who you are, not for what you have." 

He took quick steps towards you and slammed his lips against yours. Your eyes widened at the feeling of his rough lips pressing on yours. He pulled away for a few short seconds to see your reaction. You wasted no time throwing your arms around his neck and connecting your mouth to his again. 

His body pressed against yours, pushing you onto the door behind you. Your lips were warm. So warm and soft. He pushed his mouth further onto yours, your teeth clashing with his. His cloak fell off your shoulders, pooling around your feet. You tried not to gasp when his warm and wet muscle slipped into your mouth and danced around.

"Fuck," His hands travelled down your back and behind your thighs to lift you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he buried his nose under your jaw, lips brushing your skin, "I fucking love you," He confessed against your jugular. 

He didn't wait for a reply and stole the air out of your lungs again. You pulled away, gasping with your head thrown back as he gave all his attention to your neck, "I love you too, Katsuki." His mouth was on yours again, kissing you like you were the very oxygen he needed to survive. 

"I don't want to see you with another," He panted in between kisses, "I can't let you marry someone that isn't me."

"You're such an idiot," You grinned, "If you would have said that before, I wouldn't have to sign the papers."

"Signed 'em for my attention, eh?" He smirked, brushing his nose with yours. You kissed him again, this time more fiercely. Your legs tightened around his torso, and you moaned into his mouth. 

"Oi," he warned. 

You put your feet on the ground and steered him towards the furs piled up like a bed, almost tripping a few times. You pushed him down and straddled his lap, leaving a trail of kisses along the length of the scar on his shoulder. 

"Desperate, huh?" He smirked when he felt you grind against him, frantic for friction. He flipped you to the other side so he was the one towering over you. He teased the buttons of your shirt, still soaked from the rain. 

"You're testing my patience," You gritted your teeth, slapping away his hands playfully and undoing the buttons yourself. Bakugo was left star-struck as he gaped at the sight of you laid out so beautifully in front of him. He went beet red, all his cockiness running down the drain. He wasn't sure of what to do with himself now. Noticing his daze, You giggled and pulled him down into you. 

You two made love with the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof and the sounds of crackling thunder. Neither of you seemed to notice the storm raging outside, so engrossed in each other's warmth and desire. The world around you seemed to have been blurred, with the only focus being you, him, and the chants of 'I love you' he murmured into your ear.

"Where were you two?" Your father demanded the next morning, his nostrils flaring when he noticed the bruises on both of your necks. The clothes you wore covered very little of the artwork you guys had made on eachother last night. 

"We got caught up in the storm," you explained. "We found a cabin in the woods and stayed the night."

"Stayed the night to betray your fiancé?" You held your father's stern glare, narrowing your eyes at him. "Do you realise what you have done? And you, Bakugo Katsuki. What made you think you could pounce on my daughter the minute you had an opportunity?"

Katsuki remained on the floor on one knee, head low out of respect. He dared to look up at the chief, who was already staring at him murderously. Katsuki cursed internally and looked at the carpet again. You guys were in so much trouble. 

"Katsuki did nothing," You said, trying to keep your cool, "And I haven't betrayed Keiji because I am not betrothed to him yet."

"Your engagement ceremony is in six days!" Your father's voice boomed, "And you gave yourself away to a useless guard?"

"Katsuki is not a useless guard!" You snapped, "He's saved me from an assassination attempt twice if your rotten old brain can remember."

"You are talking to your father and to the chief." He seethed, "Mind your language. What he did was nothing impressive. Protecting you is his job," his eyes shifted to Bakugo, a muscle in his jaw flickering, "not sleeping in bed with you."

Bakugo looked up with guilt flooding his chest. He hadn't thought of the consequences last night, "Chief-"

"Silence!" He stood up, looking down at Bakugo. Your heart sank when he called for the guards outside the tent to take Bakugo away. 

"Father, no!" 

"This is what's best for you."

Two guards held Bakugo by his arms as he attempted to get out of their grip. You pushed away the guards with tears in your eyes, trying your best to free him. 

"Sit down, Y/n." Your father commanded. You ignored him and swung your fist at one of the guard's noses, taking him by surprise. Your fingers tightened around Bakugo's arm, and you pulled him up, having him stand by your side. You scowled at the guards, "Stay away."

 "Don't be stupid. That man isn't worth your time." Your father said, "Let the guards take him away. I'll punish him as I see fit."

"No one's taking him away, and you're not punishing him," You said firmly, "You're calling off the engagement ceremony with Keiji because Katsuki's the one marrying me."

Despite the situation, Bakugo couldn't help it when his ears flared red. You were serious about him. He allowed himself to look at the chief in the eye and straighten his back. He dared to let his hand rest on your waist as your father burned with rage.

"Keiji is a rich man, far better than a guard you happen to be in love with. Marrying him is best for you as it will help strengthen ties with-"

"You're marrying me off to him because it will strengthen ties with his tribe. How is that the best for me? That's the best for you. And I don't care about how rich Keiji is because I want to marry Katsuki, and I'll have it no other way."

"Y/n-" He started, but you cut him off.

"Besides, didn't you marry Mom despite your parents wanting you to marry someone else?" You reminded. You watched your father's fists clench, "Then why are you trying to force me?"

There was dead silence in the tent as you and Katsuki stared at the chief while the guards stood there awkwardly. At last, your father took a step towards you, putting his hands behind him, "I suggest you think about it again."

"I've already made my decision."  

Your father's eyes shifted to Bakugo beside you, "How can I be sure you'll take care of my daughter?"

"I'm ready to sacrifice my life for her, Chief," Bakugo's head lowered slightly, "My heart and soul, they're all hers. I might not be as wealthy as her suitors, but rest assured, I'm still very capable of taking care of her."

You could see the uncertainty flash in your father's eyes. You lowered your voice, "Please, father."

After a few moments of hesitation, he let out a long exhale and put his hands on your and Katsuki's head, "You have my blessings. The engagement ceremony will still be held in six days but with you and Bakugo instead."

Bakugo's heart raced, and his hands pooled with sweat. It felt like a dream. He went on one knee and bowed, "Thank you, Chief."

"Keep her happy, Bakugo Katsuki." 

"I will," Bakugo nodded and stood up.

"Thank you, Father." You beamed. 

You watched your father's lips tug up on the smile in the faintest smile. He turned his back to you, "You may leave."

You broke out into a wide grin and took Bakugo's hand to leave the tent. Bakugo had to keep himself from laughing out loud as you almost hopped towards his tent. You turned around and faced him with wide eyes once you guys were inside, "We're getting engaged, Katsuki!"

"Yeah, we are." He smiled. 

"Are you crying?" You asked, noticing his eyes go glossy. 

"Shut up, I'm not!" He exclaimed, looking away from you with a sniffle. You giggled and hugged him tight, mushing your cheek on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his nose in your hair. You could feel your neck get wet, but you made a point not to mention it, letting him hold you for as long as he wanted instead. 

You were finally his. 

Roughly a year later, you sat on the bed of your and Katsuki's shared tent, thinking back on the day's events. You guys had gotten married just this morning. You toyed with the necklace around your neck, the one he'd given you a few hours ago after he said his oaths. You laughed to yourself, thinking of how he almost cried again when he lifted the veil from your head. You looked to your side when he sat beside you. 

"Ya good?" He asked. You nodded, and he took your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist. 

"I'm just so happy, Katsuki."

He shifted closer and cradled your face gently. "Yeah? I'm happy, too." He tucked some hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours, "I'll be happy for as long as you're here with me."

You couldn't help but smile when he brushed his lips with yours, "Me too, Katsuki."