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hazelfoureyes · 5 months ago

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The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (epilogue)

Mom gets fitted for dentures next week 🎊 🎉 🦷 💝

Epilogue (Promises)

You had meant it when you said it so long ago. A promise. One you intended to keep

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x Fem Reader, Valentino x Fem reader (just TRUST ME), nipple chain, Val exists too much, Kaiju cock, pussy wet??, aphrodisiac, Alastor shade, fanatic sinners, misleading porno covers, Angel Dust is perfect as always, blood, stabbing, filming sexy things, Val in a thong, licking, hair pulling, why bad man have big dick, Alastor isn’t horny but he is possessive, pussy in the ether」

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦 Epilogue sexual

***Spoiler for people that need Val warnings*** Val dick touches reader pussy. Val explicit scenes are purple. if you skip the purple parts you will still understand the story and still be in the scene, interacting with him. Reminder, reader is there intentionally and consenting.

minors omg look over there! (🏃‍♀️💨Dni)

“I will admit, I was surprised to get your message.” Val exhaled, one hip out as he rest his weight on his right foot. You hadn’t planned on seeing him again, but as you became comfortable in hell you found yourself remembering the promise to yourself. One you made that day you met Alastor. On the floor of that studio. Your eyes scanned the room. The space was different, the set no longer your cursed cabin scene. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You took a deep breath, you’d practiced this, “Well I’ve been in hell for a while now… and I see you everywhere. I’ve been thinking,” your eyes caught on the door you were confident led to the room that held you. To the bed. Another shaky exhale, you never were much of an actress. “I really missed my chance with you. A powerful overlord… a celebrity.”

A dark chuckle from the moth, his ego fluttering, “Ooh, you’re a little celebrity in your own right. My best seller in ages.”

Oh, right. The tape. You hadn’t watched it yet. Alastor set the VHS copy on the bookshelf, an agreement made you could revisit that memory together if you ever wanted to. Not that you hadn’t heard it before. Nearly two years after its release and still people played it in public. Your first visit to Rosie started with you red faced and sputtering, having had someone on the way there thrust a DVD in front of you.

The stranger asked for an autograph, but as soon as you saw the cover photo the entire thing had been knocked into the street by Alastor’s microphone. He had been trying to shelter you from interacting too much with the movie.

“Was that—is the cover—?” You were frozen as the sinner ran off, mind trying to process the image.

Alastor hummed, “Not what I’d choose, but I signed away all rights when I made the deal. A little misleading of a photo if you ask me.” He watched with glee as a car pulverized the disc and case.

A blood red demonic seal splattered with a white liquid and a slender hand scraping into the wood.

“But that’s the Vees for you!”

Indeed, that was the Vees. Val gestured at you with his cigarette and its dramatic holder, “Aren’t you still with the radio demon? Not that I care.” He took a few steps towards you, getting you into arm’s reach before grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you into him, “Just cuz there's a goalie doesn’t mean I can’t score.”

With how your head was angled back as he had your hair tightly wound in his fist you could see the TV. Always Vox News, you assumed. The time was displayed in the corner. “I am but— he doesn’t, ya know… he doesn’t know I’m here. But he’ll be looking for me soon.”

He stared down at you, pupil-less eyes without emotion. Your scalp began to burn and after a few seconds you had to shift your weight to relieve some of the pull. It made your upper stomach rub against his crotch. Not at all your intention. But you knew you’d have to touch him eventually.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t do shit at anyone else’s speed.” His hand released your hair, “Could be fun though…,” Valentino traced along your jaw with his tongue before squeezing your cheeks in his hand, “fucking Alastor’s woman.”

He was off you as quickly as he had pounced, makeshift jacket swirling behind him as he spun around and walked to the door you’d seen before.

Another glance at the television. You had 10 minutes before Alastor would be calling. A small panic that you didn’t have enough time.

Alastor rarely called on you, because rarely were you very far away. He didn’t have you on a leash, you just enjoyed his company. You’d scroll on your phone while he worked in his radio station or read a book while he enjoyed his breakfast in the morning.

Also, well, going out alone could be intimidating. People swung from two extremes when they saw you— excited fan or terrified sinner.

The fans knew you were with Alastor.

The other sinners knew you were with Alastor.

The DVD incident had spooked you, not helped by the fact it had been your first outing. Alastor had been eager, even if he didn’t say it, to introduce you to the cannibal overlord.

Having you back in his presence brought a deep seated sense of calm to him, one best compared to the feeling he had when gossiping with Rosie over coffee. Naturally he wanted his closest friend to meet the soul who’d stolen his attention. And Rosie was delighted to meet you, evident with the extravagant tea (and a singular coffee) she set up and her litany of questions.

But every time she asked something she also seemed to answer it herself.

“Are you happy to be together again in your body?! I’m sure you are.” She offered you a finger you had to decline.

“I bet you two have been busy.” A wink, “Though you must have been for it to take so long to get down here.”

Alastor shrunk a little as she smacked at his shoulder. You hadn’t seen him allow others to touch him before. Had that been Angel, the second one of his many arms cocked back Alastor would have stepped away or disappeared. Just a hit and you could see how close they were.

You made a point of befriending her, coming often after that initial meeting to her shop for gossip and advice. As time went on, you began to learn about Alastor’s normal. It was nice to have a mutual friend to discuss your worries and ideas with.

“And oh! That video. Talk about hot under the collar!”, a petite laugh, “Did you see it?” Rosie waited for you to answer this time. When you shook your head no, she waved her hand, “For the best. The climax was totally unwatchable!”

You turned to Alastor, not sure what that meant, but he didn’t meet your gaze and instead slowly blinked out of sync at the bookshelves behind Rosie’s shoulder.

“Did you know he’s not into all that?” She took a sip, “You better be patient with him ya got it?”

That question caught you off guard. Apparently for him too, Alastor coming back to life at the change of tone, “This isn’t really a tea topic, dear friend.”

Rosie hummed, “Where are my manners! I was just so relieved he didn’t up and leave for another seven years.”

What’s a scowl shared between friends?

But shared between whatever you and Val were…?

Valentino’s wings unfurled revealing long fishnet covered legs. You watched as he swayed his hips side to side on his way to the bed. The same bed as before. You remembered the shape and purple comforter that you could see down your blindfold.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to already be undressed.” Where were his pants and button up? This was moving faster than you’d anticipated.

He turned back to you as he plopped down onto the bed, “What I wear isn’t any of your business. Though, speaking of business.” He pointed to the corner, a part of the room you’d never seen before. A camera on a tripod stood there. “Turn it on.”

Your grimace was immediate. “You sure you wanna film this one?”

Impatient, he crossed his legs and leaned back on two hands, “Did you think you could just come in here, ask to fuck me and … what? It’d be all on your terms?”

Yes.

You’d worn a dress expressly for ease, and slipped off your panties before going to the camera. For some reason you didn’t want that recorded. It seemed embarrassing. More so than what you were about to do.

Val’s turn to gawk, “You’re seriously not planning on staying dressed.”

“What I wear isn’t any of your business.” You opened the view screen and hit record.

His laugh was dark and deep, “Ooh, I forgot how feisty you were. Maybe this can be a recurring thing.”

Ignoring the comment, you tried to take in the details of the room, checking the walls and small bits of furniture. But you were immensely distracted by the moth demon, who had taken to spreading his legs open and running a hand down his barely contained bulge. Tiny, little, itty black thong, fishnets, nipple chain and… well, the hat.

Two arms pulled you by the waist, hands gripping the flesh of your ass through the dress.

“Why are you dressed like you’re off to teach Sunday school?” His hands slipped under the fabric and dug into your bare skin. He glanced at the camera and its small monitor to make sure he was in frame.

Your knees were brought to either side of his legs before he began to open his stance wider and wider. The action lowered your center more and more until your naked heat was resting on his package. Things were speeding up, he was moving you around so effortlessly. A problem, an absolute problem.

“Ya know I haven’t had a believable good girl to break in awhile.” His hips rose of the bed suddenly and made you bounce on his growing erection. Val groaned, a sound that made your skin crawl.

In the reflection of his glasses you saw the white face of a marble clock on the wall behind you.

“Could we—- can we do this lying down? Missionary? It’s been awhile and I’m feeling insecure.” The thought of the overpowering demon towering on top of you and pinning you down was… a tad terrifying. But you needed to see the clock, you couldn’t keep turning around.

A brief thought, maybe just turning around on his lap and staying facing away from him would work, but then you remembered the camera. Didn’t need your now-rising dress to give the Vees anything exploitative to keep.

Not that everyone in all nine rings hadn’t already seen you spread open and screaming on camera.

“Actually maybe it’s okay, I can,” turn around? Your suggestion was cut short.

Val lifted you like a toy and flipped around. Your head hit the bed hard, brain jostling in your skull. One hand instinctively came to his chest to keep some distance. “No, I like this better.” A wide grin as he settled between your legs.

You leaned to the right to see the clock past his shoulder. Five minutes.

Why didn’t you wear a watch? Fuck.

He dropped his lower half onto you until his full weight was pressing his half hard cock into your stomach. Your breath tightened, running out of moveable space to expand your lungs and diaphragm.

“I wanna see you squirm.” Pink smoke was blown directly into your face, catching you off guard. But, where was the cigarette? You didn’t see it…

Your muscles went loose, the stress of the moment washing away. Both of your hands came to the center of your chest and pressed down. Security. Readiness.

Four minutes.

Alastor didn’t like you having a phone but he didn’t stop you from owning one. You had assumed you’d be on the set where you knew there would be some way to keep track of the time. Or else you’d have just worn a dress with pockets to carry a cellphone. Maybe set a timer.

You weren’t sure about Alastor’s disdain for tech until you witnessed it yourself. That square headed stalker flitting from screen to screen, riding the wires and the radio waves. He had warned you about the Vees, about Vox in particular. He didn’t have much to say about Velvette, and somehow that was better than the nothing he had to say about Valentino.

As Val’s tongue slid up your neck, you thought about Angel. A confidant. You wished he had asked Alastor to kill Val, as a thank you for his efforts in reuniting you two. And, now that you remembered, uniting you at all.

Instead he asked for a bigger room. Large enough for two to comfortably cohabitate.

Alastor maybe couldn’t kill Val, but he could try. When you brought it up with him he was upset. He didn’t like his name being spoken at all unless absolutely necessary

An inadvertent moan you didn’t realize came from you until Valentino chuckled at the sound.

“Feeling it?” He cooed. You weren’t sure which it he meant. This wasn’t going quite to plan.

Three minutes.

So much could happen in three minutes. Too much. He slid down his underwear, sitting up and letting you see him in his full glory.

Why did he have to be such a bad man?

Many men who carried big sticks were unkind. Between their legs or between their fingers.

Alastor was an exception to the rule.

Things did calm down for Alastor after you returned, eventually. Alastor’s desperate need was soothed with you in hell again. His appetite dying. But he hungered in new ways. Ways you hadn’t anticipated to fill your cup so full. Long and intense kisses where his hands dragged down your body and he sighed into your cheeks. You were often pulled into his side and under his arm when sharing the sofa. Soft pets to your hair as you fell asleep.

And when you felt the need, and if he wasn’t feeling up to it, he’d lie beside you and whisper into your ear. Talking soft and low about all the ways you stole his heart and mind while his hand pumped those long fingers in and out of your own needy pussy. He’d grin into the nape of your neck when you were incapable of keeping your voice down any longer. A feeling you’d come to need.

You didn’t need a cock to be full. And by the look of Val’s twitching monster, you’d be broken before he bottomed out.

His thumbs pulled apart your bottom lips, “Ready to spread you open so wide you won’t even feel that lanky fuck in you.”

His third and fourth hands pushed your thighs open and back, hands you could swear felt familiar. Alastor? Or before him?

You struggled to regain focus, your fingers feeling at your bra.

Two minutes.

Legs suddenly too weak to resist, or perhaps Val too strong. Or, a third option, you weren’t trying so hard. Behind his fingers was left a burn on your skin.

“Closer.” Your lips were tingling, it felt good.

“I need you closer.”

His wide chest grew prideful, “Oh? If you’re looking for love you’re in the wrong bed, princesa.”

“No love. Chest. I can’t reach your chest.” You struggled to sit up, but managed to grab the chain connecting his pierced nipples before falling back into the bed.

A screech, a squeak, “Fuck! Watch how you handle that.” His voice rose several octaves. God, you hated him.

You gripped the chain tightly, the feeling keeping you a little grounded. “Oops.” A whirlpool was behind your eyes, all five senses mingling and amplifying. This was dangerous. He hadn’t used this aphrodisiac on you before…maybe he had liked how much you thrashed when he tied you up and mocked you.

His length ran up your core and you jumped. He was so hot. So…. Firm.

No. Too close.

One minute.

You had told Alastor you wouldn’t let it go too far. He said he’d not stop you, because you had said you needed to do it. But you could see the conflict behind his own gaze. What would he do if you returned smelling of Val? Dripping of him?

Almost. Just a few more seconds. His body rolled into you, rocking you with the motion. Every passing had his cock from slit to balls sliding between your wildly wet folds.

Timing was key for your safety. Though Alastor had made it clear you could always just bail and wait for his call.

The more Val rubbed and pressed against you you felt your mind melt a little more. Surely it would slip down your spine at this rate.

A brief worry in the pleasurable fog, what if later on you remembered the pleasure and felt guilty? Guilty to Alastor but most importantly to yourself, for gasping and sighing under the abusive trash that dragged you to hell to begin with.

And what if you didn’t?

Which was worse?

Which would be easier to live with?

He prodded your inner thigh. He was getting closer and closer to actually entering you.

30 seconds.

“Do you remember my promise?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His head was hung as he stared between your bodies. He didn’t see you reach between your breasts into your bra and pull out the Carmine angelic dagger Husk had recommended to Alastor. You hadn’t been quiet about your plans.

“Odd, it’s on recording. Maybe you didn’t realize I was talking to you.” As you moved the dagger from your right side to bury it into Valentino’s chest you remembered the man in the woods. The young man at work. Angel. Here you were again. But if this ended the same as the woods, where would you go? Would Alastor be able to reach you?

“My promise to fucking kill you.”

Valentino keeled back, hand raised to slash your throat out when a green light momentarily blinded him. The sound of chains filled the room as you disappeared into nothingness underneath him. He was left slashing at his own duvet while he tried to slow the bleeding.

Alastor caught you as you fell from the portal he summoned you with. Two feet barely touching the floor as he set you in the reading chair in front of his fireplace.

He nodded at the drops of blood staining your cornflower yellow dress, “Was it a success?”

Your body slipped down the chair, dress getting caught in the friction and riding up. He leaned over and tugged it back down to hide your exposed sex. You were too far gone to feel deja vu.

“No, I think he’s alive. He drugged me with that smoke.” Your legs were spread wide, trying to keep your weight from slipping off the chair. “I was too weak.”

Alastor sat in the chair opposite and took in the scene. Hair messy, legs open, face flush. Bloodied and breathless.

Pride ran a shiver up his spine. His doe’s second murder attempt. While he has despised the idea he couldn’t pretend he didn’t love the initiative.

“Hey, I know you said you wouldn’t ask.” You crossed your legs at the ankle, which did nothing to stop the way the air that was rising up your dress and cooling your core. “But I didn’t fuck him.”

Alastor shrugged, “As they say, all is fair in love and war. I would understand if you did for the sake of killing him. What’s a little sex if it helps murder?”

Your hand slipped down your chest, a ghostly trail in its wake like your touch had an echo. “What a terrible way to confess you love me.”

A choked cough from the radio demon.

Your eyes slipped close. Relaxed. “I feel good.”

He hummed.

“Not from the stabbing, from the stuff in his smoke. My body is thrumming. Is my heart pounding?” You tried to stand but ended up on your knees, cheek coming to rest on his inner leg. As he leaned forward to let his hand enter your dress and rest above your heart, his face got close to yours.

“It’s frantic.” A low whisper into the shell of your ear. Pulling back he paused at your face to lick an errant drop of blood. “You reek of him.”

“He did lick me a couple times.” You watched Alastor sneer, “And he was naked, like, immediately. Oh! Oh fuck,” your head popped up with a renewed clarity, “He recorded it.”

Alastor stilled, he wasn’t thinking about the recording aspect. He was thinking on your heart, on how flushed your skin was, the sweat dripping down your neck. On the thought of Val’s tongue over your skin. “The medicine— or drug you were exposed to,” a deep breath in, “What does it feel like?”

A topic change you hadn’t expected, your body slouched into his leg, arm over his thigh for support. His eyes on your face as they always were when you were in the room.

“Like my body is… illuminescent. Every time my clothes or something touches me, my skin lights up and my brain gets so quiet.” His palm stayed on your heart.

“Hmm,” His hands slipped under your arm, lifting you up. Your feet were entirely off the ground now as he carried you like a dirty cat on its way to the bath. Gently, you were set onto the bed. A lovely juxtaposition.

“Every time I touch where he did, tell me.” Alastor kneeled beside you, deft fingers unbuttoning your dress. A sharp claw popped under the center of your bra and sliced through the fabric.

Your body was humming again, Val’s powerful aphrodisiac lifting up from your senses like dust under heavy footsteps.

Goosebumps formed up your arms as the back of his fingers traced along the outside of your forearm. As he curved up your shoulder and reached your neck you breathed out a low, “There.”

You watched him lean down, warm lips kissing at your skin. A series of kisses as soft and needy as the ones he often placed on your own mouth. A shudder turned nearly violent as his hot tongue ran up your neck to your jaw.

His nose slid up your cheek, “There.” Kisses to your face, across your nose and to the other side.

He pulled back, eyes lusty and heavy lidded. He didn’t say anything, but his grim smile asked you something. You nodded, running your hands down your chest and to your thighs.

A growl you hadn’t heard in so long rumbled in his chest. He rolled you onto your stomach and pulled the dress off entirely, nails raking along your spine until they dimpled the soft fat of your ass.

“There.”

Alastor straddled you at the back of your knees. You wanted to squirm but your muscles had gone weak again. He nipped at the mounds of flesh, massaging and squeezing after every particularly sharp bite. What little part of your brain could form coherent thoughts was trying to piece together an alarm— his face was so close to your still soaking wet entrance.

Images bubbled up where words were failing. Val’s large cock head smearing precum up your slit.

His hands roamed down your legs and feet before turning you back to face him. When you could finally see his expression again, you were surprised to see a look he hadn’t given in so long.

Needy. Desperation screamed through knitted brows, hazy eyes, and a weak smile threatening to fall flat.

As his hands slid down your stomach and reached the junction of your thighs, you started to register the little moans you were making.

But it was getting harder to hear past the radio static and pounding heartbeat in your ears.

Soft fingers traveled between your closed thighs, you hesitated before offering what you thought was a quiet, “There.”

You couldn’t hear yourself think let alone speak as the sounds both in and outside your body grew louder with every signal he’d found a new spot to cover up.

His knees pushed open your left thigh, then your right. Lowering himself, he hitched your knees and lied flat on his stomach. A bite to your inner thigh, nearly the back. A suck, sharp and strong, that ended with a pop as he released.

Nose inching closer and closer to your core, Alastor could see your hole clenching. A dribble of the evidence of your arousal being forced out and down the cleft of your ass.

You heard and felt his breathing quicken, when a finger slid down your folds you couldn’t stop the raise of your hips.

“There.”

The lights went out with a pop. Shaky breaths as his tongue swiped from entrance to clit. Lick after lick to your center like he was trying to make you clean again. Another moan you were only sure was yours cut through the now biting static that filled the air around you.

Your mind tried to piece together a sentence, “Crazy stuff… it had me so horny”, your hands ran up your chest without thinking, “I was almost hoping Val would put it in before time was gone.”

The static cut. Not even the sound of the fireplace or the crickets in the swamp portaled into his room were present anymore.

“Isn’t that insane? Have you ever heard of such a drug?” Your eyes had closed, feeling his breath wafting down your saliva coated lips. “Alastor?”

He was being honest when he said he’d not hold it against you. But he hadn’t even considered a situation where you wanted more to happen. Than had been discussed. The very idea of Valentino mixing with you brought bile to his throat.

The drug was to blame and he could understand that, as a man. But as an overlord, as something more akin to animal in some aspects, he had the clawing urge to reclaim you. To write over even the thought of wanting to feel Valentino.

“My darling little doe, I think you need a reminder of just how much of you I possess. And the parts of me you own in turn.”

You looked down to see glowing eyes from between your legs, his fingers snapped and while you couldn’t see what was happening past the light of his eyes, you could hear the VHS player click and then a small, “Aunt Sara….” whispered in a familiar voice.

“I don’t understand what’s happened….”

It took a moment to register it was your own voice you were hearing from the darkness.

“Aunt Sara isn’t here.”

Alastor’s acting debut crowing from the old TV beside his bayou door. His eyes shifted with a blink from glowing red to black, just sharp dials visible in the shadow of his face.

“She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.”

The prongs of a buck ready to clash over his territory creaked past your open thighs.

“But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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#Alastor #hazbin hotel #Alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor smut #Hazbin hotel smut #Valentino x reader

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dekariosclan · 3 months ago

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Attention Galemancers: Gale thinks you are wonderful

In celebration of Galemancer week, this post is dedicated to all my fellow wizard-lovers 💜

We’ve talked plenty about how much we love Gale—but in this post I want to talk about how Gale Dekarios loves us, too. Very, very much.

From Astarion-to-Gale pipeliners, to the gamers who played BG3 not intending to romance anyone, to players who thought they’d just play the game casually and mayyybe smooch the hunky Druid elf guy or hot fiery lady, we all played BG3 thinking we had a pretty clear idea of how it was going to go—only to find ourselves rizzed by the wizard.

But we didn’t just choose Gale—Gale chose us.

Remember, Tav does not initiate the romance; Gale has to choose to start the weave scene. So if you’re reading this and you’re a Galemancer, it’s because Gale wanted you to be one.

That’s right Galemancers: Your Pixel Husband©️ took one look at you/your Tav, liked you immediately, and told the other romanceable companions, ‘I beg your pardon, this one is mine.’ The rest is history.

Gale loves us just as much as we love him—and this goes for ALL GALEMANCERS, no matter how your romance went:

Did you go into the game already liking Gale and actively wanting your Tav to romance him? Then Gale applauds your excellent taste. It’s one of the many reasons he chose you! To like so many things about him, and right from the start…he thinks your generosity is quite wonderful.

Did your Tav choose another companion first, and only romance Gale later on/during a second play through? No matter. He knew that you would come to your senses eventually! (just like he’s sure Minthara will appreciate him at some point…) He just had to be patient. It’s fine; you were worth the wait, after all.

Did you get Sneaky God Gale and have to re-do your run/start a new one to get your human proposal ending? Gale knew from the start that you were special—and that you would love him enough to replay the game and fix any bad outcomes. He knew you would do whatever was necessary to correct his path so he could marry you! Seeing you do all that for him…well…it only makes him want you more.

Did you encourage Gale to become a God & have him ascend your Tav, too? Then GodGale is beyond thrilled he chose you. Like he says in the human epilogue: ‘I could spend an eternity in your company.’ Now he can finally do that! (One small request—please keep his ambition in check, but do allow him to continue to troll Raphael as often as he likes.)

Did you romance Gale, but have your Tav go to Avernus with Karlach to help her? Gale always knew you had a heart of gold, and that’s one of the reasons he chose you. A little distance & time won’t hurt a bond like yours—and he’ll have his hearth & home waiting for your return.

Did you read online guides to do Gale’s & Tav’s romance correctly and get the ending you wanted from the start? What divine calculus plucked you from the heavens and thrust you into Gale’s arms? He knew you were studious and detail-oriented from the moment he met you, which is why he chose you! To know you studied so hard in order to get a good ending for him…none have loved him so purely before.

— — —

In short: Gale Dekarios doesn’t toss the ‘L’ word around lightly. He only picks someone to be a Galemancer if he truly thinks they are wonderful—and that’s not just anyone.

In conclusion: Galemancers, you are wonderful!

Now go enjoy the rest of this week with your well-earned and well-deserved pixel wizard—who chose you 💜

#Get loved Galemancers #Get absolutely cherished #Y’all are the best ❤️#(And yes Gale made me write this post 🧙‍♂️)#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #galemancer #galemancer week

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fllagellant · 9 months ago

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Sometimes I cannot tell if you guys want villains who do not want to be redeemed or not bc we get gortash and everyone trips over themselves to make this version of him that is absolved from his actions and he’ s changed … Anyways another day another time Wyll gets put to the back burner with crumbs of content yet everyone huddles around like “ OMG THANK YOU LARIAN … oh yeah sorry about Wyll : ((( “

You guys get you are a part of the problem right . You are letting Larian know they can get away with being racist as long as they feed fandom and whatever . Instead of actual quality of life updates and patching in content that would Actually help the game run better and feel finished , they just bloat the game and let companions go untouched with minimal content while playing into whatever the loudest voices in fandom demand the most .

The studio account should not be interacting with fandom so often . This blur between creators and fans is bad ! This leads to fans blindly defending and protecting a Game Studio that they have no connection to because haha larian mad a funny reply . And this also causes a feeling of ownership that should not be there ! You do not own a piece of bg3 and you should not be dictating it ! This is different from criticism btw . Just so we are Clear . Larian deserves and needs criticism .

It is super telling that they voices they are choosing to listen to are not voices that actually care about the game at its story . If they were , we would not have Zero Story for the Son of the Duke of Baldur’ s Gate and yet we have so much for a character that isn’ t actually tied into any major story beat ! We have no more for the character directly tied to Gortash with a prototype of the Steel Watch in her chest , but we can take a side character a few people wanted to bang and speed to have him included ad a full companion ! Instead of Dark Urge getting more content with Orin , Savrok and anyone else that had a tie to Bhaal , they get their relationship with a guy unrelated to all that be made to be read more and more explicitly romantic when that is just ruining the character !

Wyll should have a proper sex scene . He should have a romanced greeting that changes after the proposal . He should have more personal story content . He should have scenes of him in Baldur’ s Gate . The Emperor reveal as Balduran should not have been the main focus of HIS FINAL STORY QUEST . He should have hug and kiss options in the epilogue . People should comment on the engagement ! He should have all of this !! AND MORE FRANKLY .

But because everyone is so quick to forgive Larian , they’ ll never feel pressured to add any of this . They’ ll never feel like they’ ll loose players if they don’ t . Because you guys don’ t actually care . No , I am not saying thank you to larian for not giving me anything I have been asking for and sending feedback on for months . I am not thanking larian for choosing to bend over backwards to random big name fandom people who are racist and just want to fuck the pale guys again and again .

Larian Studio is not your fucking friend, stop acting like they are .

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 critical #larian studios #larian critical #wyll ravengard #astarion #astarion acunin #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #patch 6 #read it and weep idgaf

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theeveninghour · 8 months ago

Text

All My Dreaming | Part 2

Summary: After accepting the mating bond, you and Azriel explore some missed opportunities. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

A/N: Thank you for the love on All My Dreaming!!! Not to be horny on main but I couldn’t stop writing for this story, here’s ~8k more words of extremely sweet and very nasty Azriel. I really wanted to write a fun scene with Mor and the gang Rita’s but couldn’t find a place for it in the first part, so y’all are getting it here. There is like, so very little plot here, I just wanted to write a few more scenes and give some additional backstory on these two because I think they’re cute. Also, I love writing little vignettes for this storyline so I might post a few more, much smaller (lol) snippets of them as an epilogue!

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

WC: 8.4k (i have no self control)

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, cunnilingus, face sitting, more love declarations, Cassian being a lil flirty in flashbacks, soft dom!Az, little hints at jealous!Az, the slightest amount of angst, talk of previous abuse (but nothing too descriptive) and slight breeding kink because Az has one (I feel this in my bones). Azriel is down astronomically bad for the reader in this one y’all. The last 2.7k is literally just porn lol

Part 1

True to his word, Azriel kept you in the meadow until dawn. The sun beginning to paint the night-sky with sepia hued pinks and oranges. You’d long since finished the wine, eaten half the bread, and most of the fruit and cheeses. He laid against the quilt, wings spread magnificently as you laid against him, thigh over his abdomen, head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing idly at the tattoo inking his chest. He hummed contentedly, and you ventured your eyes up his, finding his gaze already on you.

“Can I ask you something?” You tested the waters of this new thing; bond, love, cocoon that enveloped you. “Anything,” he smiled. “When did you know?” You asked softly. He furrowed his brow. “That I loved you?” He asked and you nodded, turning your upper half to rest your chin on the hand that had stilled against his chest. He laughed. Mother above, he laughed so warmly that it made your eyes crinkle and lips spread into a grin from the sound alone.

“You’re going to hate this,” he said as a preface, smiling, dimples appearing as he looked to you, “but it was a few weeks after you joined us, and Cassian mouthed off at you about being late to training.” You raised a brow. “You fell in love with me, while I was being…….degraded?” You asked, a little deadpan. “No,” he shook his head in correction, still chuckling. “It was what you did after.”

Cassian kept a strict training schedule. He trained in the early hours of the morning on the balcony at the House of Wind, ate breakfast, then moved to outdoor weapons and flight training off the banks of the Sidra until the early afternoon. He was strenuous and strict in his routine, as was Azriel. You’d begun training with them the week before, and if you were totally honest, you weren’t fully comfortable with the two brothers yet. Cassian was rough around the edges, brutish, with a mouth that often got him into trouble. Azriel was quiet, observant in a way that unnerved you. You’d caught his eyes following you often and you hated the warmth that pressed into your cheeks when he did.

Rhysand had warned them to give you time to adjust. You’d been brutally attacked by Beron’s dogs only a few months ago and forced to live in the wilds for nearly six weeks, eating foraged fauna and what game you could kill with a makeshift spear you’d carved using sharpened obsidian and a walnut branch. Your body grew weary in those weeks; endless fear, starvation, and sleepless would do that. You were still a jittery little thing, like a wild animal, jumpy when Amren or Mor managed to sneak up on you by accident.

Azriel recognized these symptoms and allowed you a leniency he didn’t normally offer his trainees, but trauma, physical and mental, took a toll on the body as he well knew. He’d gifted you a golden hilted dagger on your second week with them and asked if you knew how to use it. You held it in your palm, noting the blue stone that sat in the bolster and double edged blade that you could see your reflection in. You looked a little gaunt, but your cheeks held color again, your lips were fuller, no longer dry and chapped from mountain winds and cold nights.

“I know how to use a blade Shadowsinger,” you said in an even tone. You didn’t call him by his name then. You also called Cassian ‘General’ to his face, and ‘asshole’ behind his back. “Most females learn to use them,” you followed up, “out of necessity.” Azriel hated to dwell on those words, hated to think about what you’d gone through before Beron, what your father had done. He nodded once, and placed a sheath and belt down on the table next to you before taking his leave.

You’d awoken late for training that day, the sun had rose to a bright position in the mid-morning sky and you knew you’d never hear the end of it from Cassian. You dressed slowly into your training leathers, belting your dagger around your hips and took a deep breath. You walked to the balcony, noticing the males absence and winnowed to the training grounds at the Sidra. Cassian’s eyes found yours immediately and he sheathed his broadsword, turning to look at you. Azriel was perched on a fallen tree stump nearby, and his eyes traced your face, noting the darkened circles there. He’d heard you screaming in your sleep last night and his heart ached at the sound, his shadows slinking off to find you.

“So you didn’t forget,” Cassian said, muscular arms crossing over his chest. “Tell me something, little girl, do you even want to be here?” He stressed the word want in his sentence in a way that had both you and Azriel narrowing your eyes. “This is the third day this week that you’ve been late to training, and the second that you’ve missed morning warm ups altogether.” He huffed a disbelieving laugh, “I’m beginning to think Rhys was wrong about you.” Azriel went still and he felt a bit of rage creep up his spine at his brother’s harshness.

In the blink of an eye, you’d unsheathed your dagger and thrown it at the Illyrian general. It whizzed past his head, nicking his cheek, and landed in the training dummy behind him. “Fuck you,” you’d growled teeth bared, as you shifted a stance that begged for a fight. Cassian turned and pulled the knife from the dummy’s eye socket, before throwing in the dirt at your feet. “A little to the left next time you try to kill me,” he smirked. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have missed, asshole,” you said as you fixed him with a glare and your jaw ticked in anger. Cassian’s face broke into a shit eating grin and he laughed, which made you sneer with frustration.

“Good to see you’re still alive in there,” he said smiling, “I was hoping we’d see that spark.” Your anger dissolved as fast as it built up. You reached down to pick your dagger from the dirt and sheathed it at your waist. “Seriously, Cassian, fuck you,” you said and grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows before stalking off to train alone. Cassian sighed and went to follow you but Azriel rose to feet to stop him, stepping into his path. “Let her calm down,” he suggested, placing a hand to his brother’s arm. Cassian sighed. He knew he was being rough with you, but it the only thing left he could think to do. “We’ve tried nice, brother. Tough love worked on Amren, maybe it’ll work on her too,” Cassian spoke softly before trotting after you.

A few paces off you’d begun firing arrows into a target carved in the bark of an elm tree, teeth grinding. Cassian was right in his intent though, you had to get out of your own head if you were to move forward. You pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocking it on the bowstring and pulling it back until the bow met the pile at the tip. You heard him coming before you saw him.

“Listen, I’m just—” you heard Cassian’s voice and turned then, aiming and firing in his direction. The arrow flew through the air towards the General. The feathered fletching caught the bun at the top of his head, pulling hairs loose, before the tip burrowed into the tree behind him with an echoing noise.

“Mother above, you could’ve killed me!” The General shouted, face blanched. Azriel’s lip quirked up and he looked to you again, you were smiling, closed mouth but smiling, and he felt his heart grow warm at the sight. “I told you, asshole, I don’t fucking miss when I’m aiming to kill.”

You laughed aloud, cheeks warm as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest. “I’ll go around threatening Cassian more often if it gets me a mate in the end.” The male at your side chuckled warmly and his hand found yours on his sternum. “He still talks about it, you know?” He offered with a shake of his head. “It was precisely the kind of thing Nesta would’ve done too.”

You smiled back. “Good to know you Illyrians have a type.” He looked to you then and he smiled, eyes tracing your lips, nose, lashes, and the Winter white hair haloing your face. “Not a type, just blessings from the Mother,” he murmured softly. His hand trailed up your arm and pushing your hair off your shoulder and down your back. You blushed, warmth blooming on your chest and running up your neck to your face, painting your skin pink.

“Gods, who knew you had such a silver tongue,” you said chastising, looking to where his fingers played with yours as they rested on his chest. “You used to be so quiet,” you added, letting a small laugh escape you. Azriel shrugged and pushed up on an elbow as his hand left yours to run up your arm and cup your cheek. “Good to know you’re still thinking about my tongue,” he whispered before kissing you for the millionth time that night.

It was mid-morning when Azriel ported you both to the River House. It was surprisingly empty, and you made your way to the kitchen to seek out food, still in the dress from the night before, though it was now wrinkled on your body. Rhysand had stocked the kitchen it would seem, as you found an array of fruits, vegetables, and meats in the cold storage there.

“I guess Rhys was serious about quarantining us here,” you laughed before looking over your shoulder to find your mate, leaned against the counter, watching you with warmth. “If I cook for you again, are you going to ravish me?” You asked jokingly, pulling a knife from the block to begin prepping carrots for a quick stew.

He pressed forward then, coming behind you to push you into the marble, bringing his lips your shoulder and his hands to your belly. “I plan on ravishing you either way,” he said, lips tracing to the hollow below your ear, a spot that made you whimper as he’d found out the night before and catalogued in his head. You pressed your hips back against his, loving the feel of his body against your own.

“Very interested in that, though I think it’ll be easier on a full stomach, so maybe go bathe while I cook,” you said, turning your head and nudging your nose into his own. He laughed again and the noise set your heart to skittering. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to having him like this, so free and warm.

You’d seen Azriel in every form. The warrior that fought with skilled precision, teeth bared as he cut down his adversaries; the Spymaster that tortured, maimed, and killed Night Court threats; the brother that took his friend’s teasing in stride, lips quirking silently as he shook his head. You’d never had him like this though, laughing and full of affection, touching and grasping so freely.

His hand found your chin and you knew he’d heard your thoughts again from the look in his eyes. His fingers stroked up your jawline, fingers pushing hair behind your ear. “There is no one in this realm, on this continent, male or female, that has as much of me as you do on any given day,” he whispered before he pushed away to stroll out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You let a shaky breath go from your chest. He was trouble.

Later, after you’d both bathed and eaten until your bellies were full, you sat at the dining room table, sipping a glass of wine. “You asked me this morning when I knew,” he started, setting down his wine glass as his index finger began tracing circles into red table cloth next to it. “When did you know?” You laughed and took another sip of wine, you’d need it to keep up with him. “Mine’s not as violent,” you fixed him with a pointed look and he smirked.

You took a deep breath, “it was several months later, at Rita’s.” He laughed warmly in disbelief. “What?” Surely you weren’t serious? “What in the Cauldron could’ve happened at Rita’s to make you fall in love with me?” His eyes were twinkling under the fae lights.

Mor had begged you to go and you’d told her no at least thirteen times. You’d grown fond of the blonde as had she with you. She’d helped you immensely in your first months with the Night Court. She knew what it was to be hollowed out by trauma, particularly trauma that extended from those in the Autumn Court. She also knew bad fathers. You were grateful to her and you’d opened to her in a way you’d hadn’t yet with anyone else in Rhys’ Inner Circle.

“Please?” She tried again, “We can go into the city and get you a dress, I’ll even pay for it!” You rolled your eyes, “You won’t give up until I agree, huh?” She’d laughed then. Her laugh was the kind of full bodied female laugh you hoped you’d get back some day. “You already know me so well, Little One.” She nudged your shoulder, before patting your cheek and leaving you alone to dress for the day ahead.

Little One had started a few months prior when you poked fun at Cassian during a dinner. You’d been ready to maul the General in your first weeks, but you’d settled into a peaceful truce. He’d been talking loudly about the female he’d been with the night prior, all bravado and innuendo. “Amazing you were able to land her at all with that ego,” you’d muttered taking a sip of your wine. Amren sat across from you and her lips quirked as she looked your way in silent agreement. She and Cassian were also at odds often. Cassian slid his eyes to you and they narrowed as you feigned innocence, setting your glass down and looking to your nails. “Did you just mock me, Little One?” He asked, head tilting as he watched you pick at a cuticle.

You met his eyes and raised a brow. “Tell me Cassian, is what they say about Illyrian wingspans true?” You said, eyes glancing to Rhysand and Azriel, both looking thrilled at this development. “Cause as I see it, you look to be outmatched.” The room went quiet before Cassian bellowed a loud laugh, bringing a hand to his chest. “Cauldron save us, she’s got jokes,” he snickered and your lips curved into a smile. He turned to you then, lips smirking. “For the record, it’s not the wingspan that matters, it’s how you use it.” His rebuttal caused you to let out a breathless laugh as you picked up your wine and rolled your eyes.

Mor had dragged you into the shopping district of Velaris to find an appropriate dress. The first store was a bust, and the second was looking to be the same. “Come on, Little One, there has to be one you’re interested in!” She’d said, voice going a little whiny on the tail end of the sentence. You’d scanned the boutique again, and noticed a dress hanging in the far back corner that was looked like threaded starlight. “That one,” you pointed and her eyes slid to it before her lips broke into a knowing grin. “You go to the dressing room and I’ll grab it,” she offered and you’d nodded, wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

She’d brought you the dress and you shut the curtain in her face as she laughed. You’d undressed slowly, eyes scanning skin as it appeared. Your eyes zoomed in on the heavy scarring at your legs, Gods you hated those markings. Once the dress slid on, you pulled up the zipper at the side and adjusted the bust line.

You loosed a loud breath, it was…. generous in the amount of skin it showed and the style screamed Night Court. You turned and realized the back went down to your bottom, showcasing the two dimples at the small of your back. The slit at the side came all the way to your hip. ‘Cauldron, this isn’t a dress, this is a scrap of fabric,’ you’d thought.

You turned and opened the curtain stepping out to find Mor looking at you with an open mouth. “Are you sure you aren’t into females?” She’d asked. “Because I’d love to keep you to myself tonight.” You’d blushed and laughed heartily. “Is it good?” You asked cautiously, turning in a circle. “Good? Little One, the males will be on their knees,” she said eyes twinkling with mischief.

You’d bought the dress despite the insecurities and gone home the House of Wind to get dressed. Mor had sent Nuala and Cerridwen to you to help with your hair and make up and you’d thanked them profusely.

As the moon rose for the night, you stood in your quarters staring at the mirror on the wall opposite your bed. You had looked lively again, your cheeks were fuller and the hollows under your eyes were less bruised than they had been months prior. You sat on a bench at the foot of your bed and started to pull on your heels, a leg shining through the slit of the dress.

Once you’d buckled the strap your shoes, you stood, a little wobbly. It’d nearly a year since you’d worn heels and the last time you had, you were set to be engaged to the Autumn Court princeling. You refused to dwell on that and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping into the hall.

Cassian was exiting of his room as you were shutting your door and your eyes met down the corridor. He let out a wolf whistle and began walking your way. “Well, well, well,” he started and you braced for his comment, “don’t you look pretty enough to eat.” You grimaced and looked at him before scoffing, “pig.” His laughter made your lips curve into a smile.

You strolled down the steps to find Rhysand and Azriel waiting there. Rhysand looked to you and smiled warmly, “You clean up nice, Little One.” Azriel’s eyes found yours next and his jaw dropped, then shut quickly, muscle ticking. A gloved hand at his side set into a fist and he could hear the knuckles crack. “I think she’ll be fighting the males off tonight,” Mor piped, appearing next to you, “wouldn’t you lot agree?”

Rhysand and Cassian hummed their agreements but Azriel’s eyes couldn’t look away from your form. The dress draped your body like liquid starlight, the slit at your hip had his fists clenching at the desire to touch. Mor walked you past the males and he caught glimpse of your exposed back and something primal reared its head shouting at him to grasp, lick, bite until you were covered in his marks. Cassian flanked the Shadowsinger and whistled low, eyes following you. “I’ll have to find her on the dance floor tonight,” he said, eyes gleaming as they traced your retreating form. Azriel, though he loved his brother dearly, wanted to rip his throat out for even glancing at you.

Rita’s was littered with intoxicated fae. Mor grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bar, while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their way to the section explicitly reserved for their use. As you stood at the bar with Mor, a male came up to you, leaning into your space and asking your name.

The male ventured a touch to your arm and you leaned away, disliking the overt physical attention. As he spoke, a gloved hand appeared between you and Azriel pushed his way into the space without apology or acknowledgement. “Hey, I was talking to her!” The male tried to protest loudly before Azriel turned and fixed him with a devastating look, causing the male to wilt before putting his hands up in surrender and walking away.

You stumbled out a laugh as he turned back to you. “I think you may have hurt his feelings,” you said smiling, looking to the Shadowsinger. He eyes were already on you again, tracing your face, and hair, the long line of your neck. “That’s much too bad,” he said, signaling the bartender over and you both ordered a round of drinks.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the words came out of Azriel in a rushed whispered, as if he’d forced them out against his will. You turned to meet his eyes and your face warmed at the look there. “I was so nervous to wear this,” you breathed, “the last time I was in a dress and heels like these, I was engaged to marry a Vanserra.” You let out a small, cynical laugh. “Gods, I’m so glad I left.”

Azriel softened then. “He didn’t deserve you, Autumn didn’t deserve you, I hope you know that,” he’d said, gloved hands laying flat on the bar top, the length of his middle finger grazing your own. You wanted to reach out to them, to ask why he wore the gloves around you, but you resisted.

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I’m also glad you left, I’m glad you’re here most of all.” You met his hazel eyes again and traced his face. He was likely one of the most beautiful males you’d ever seen and he was being awfully sweet with you. He looked to Rhys then, the High Lord likely speaking into his mind. He smiled turning back to you, “Rhysand says he’s also glad you’re here,” he said mockingly and rolled his eyes. You laughed, a small tinkering thing, that made Azriel’s heart beat quicken. “Thanks, Az,” you smiled broadly at him and he knew for sure and certain you would ruin him.

You turned to your drink then as the bartender sat it down in front of you. You picked it up and took a long sip. If Azriel kept looking at you like that and speaking to you in hushed tones that made your heart race, you’d need about five more of these.

You heard him take a deep, steadying breath at your side, turned to look at him, brow furrowing slightly. You were ready to ask if he was alright when he finally spoke. “Cassian said he was going to ask you to dance tonight,” he ventured and you snorted. ‘Of course he did,’ you thought with a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head. “Would you allow me to be your first?” He asked, holding out a gloved hand.

You looked to his hand then back to his hopeful hazel eyes, and you blinked a little slowly, a little disbelievingly. Just when you thought you figured him out, he threw you for a loop. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. As your body moved with his, you couldn’t help but wish for forever in this moment, forever in his hands, and his eyes. Mother above, you were in trouble.

“That dress was pure sin, Little One,” Azriel smirked. “And I told you, I am quite fond of dancing.” You huffed a laugh and looked to him, a little bashful. Azriel laughed softly again. “Cassian pouted for days after that night,” he spoke, “he was mad I stole you away.” You wondered if Cassian could tell how utterly smitten you were after that night. “I think he was a little infatuated with you in those early days too.”

You grimaced. “That’s much too bad,” you said, echoing his words from centuries prior. You stood then and stepped towards him to halt at his side, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. “I always had eyes for you, baby.”

You trailed a hand up his arm to his shoulder, then back to the shoulder joint of his wing, tracing the bone up to the clawed crest. His breath guttered out of him as he closed his eyes, brows furrowing at the sensation that zipped down his spine and settled in his lower abdomen.

“One more question for you,” you said softly. “No,” he growled out, “I’ve had enough questions, I want to have you again.” His eyes opened and looked to you, scarred hands grasping your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there. “One more and I’ll give you whatever you want,” you offered. He raised a brow. “Whatever I want?” He questioned and you nodded. “Even if I want to bend you over this table and take you from behind until you come all over my cock?”

Your eyes watched his predatory gaze and a feline grin appeared on your face. You laughed again, “considering that’s a win-win, I’ll gladly trade for that.” He laughed too and rolled his eyes in fondness. “Fine,” he conceded, “one more question, mate.” His hand traced back, grasping the flesh of your ass through your thin silk housedress and you gasped, “then I get to have you in every way I want.”

You had to shake the lust from your thoughts, focusing on the question that had been circling your mind since your return to River House. “Why didn’t you to tell me of the bond?” You asked softly, hand resting on the arm that held you. He took a deep breath, he should’ve expected this eventually, but in all honesty, he’d hoped to put it off as long as possible.

“I just mean,” you took a shaky breath, growing a little nervous. “It snapped so early for you, and I—” you swallowed, “I wouldn’t have turned you away, surely you must know that?” Your eyes found his and he saw the imploring look there, brows slanting as your eyes swam with emotions. He took a grounding breath and his hand traced up your hip to your back as he pulled you in to bury his face in the soft of your stomach.

“I was scared,” he said, though it came out muffled. You combed fingers through his hair soothingly and he tilted his head up to face you. “You were—” he stopped himself, “you are the single most magical thing in this realm.” He spoke softly, as if he was scared he’d burst the bubble of newfound love that had surrounded the two of you in the last few weeks.

“When I was a child, my half brothers tortured me,” he started, eyes wincing. “They did this, you know,” he held up a scarred hand. You nodded, Rhysand told you of Azriel’s brothers and father years ago when the subject of Windhaven came up and how you would likely not be sent on any missions there. “For my gift with shadows, they’d called me every name under the sun, insisted I was a bastard child, beat me, shunned me, cast me out. I was alone until Rhys and his mother took me in.” Your eyes teared up when you thought of how isolated he must’ve felt, how damaged. You knew feeling well.

“When I knew I loved you, I resolved myself as unworthy of your gaze, your touch, anything,” he sighed and his hands pulled from you to fall in his lap. “I figured I’d been alone for centuries up until that point, and it was likely I’d be alone forever.” You pulled one of his hands into your own and brought the knuckles to your lips. “I love you,” you said softly, lips resting against the marred skin there, “I hope you know that.”

He looked to you and he smiled, a small watery smile as his eyes closed and he nodded his head. There was that gift again. “You know,” he said, “more than your beauty, or strength, I admire your courage and vulnerability. I think that’s what scared me the most.” He spoke softly again, wanting to preserve the shroud of gentle love that surrounded the two of you.

“I saw how you were with Mor and Amren. How you cared for Cass, despite his explosive anger when Rhys went Under the Mountain for fifty years. How you attended Rhys when he returned in shambles, traumatized and broken.” He looked to you, eyes shining. “You took it all in stride with such….. care and endless love and I—” he paused, bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t think I’d ever be worthy of your heart, of your attention, so I took what I could get. Your glances, your smiles, the teasing at dinners. I took it all and I made myself content with it,” he shuttered out a fragile, broken breath, eyes falling to the shadows that gathered at his feet attempting to console their master.

“I’ve loved you in secret for two centuries, Little One, I’ve loved you so much my chest ached and I thought I would die from the unsung bond that resided there. My soul would know yours in any life. At the ends of the earth in total darkness, it would still find you.” He let out a shuddering breath, “you’re the other half of me.” His eyes found yours then and the look there made you feel overwrought with emotion.

You and Azriel had been friends for two centuries. You laughed and cried together. You’d shared meals and secrets, dances and fleeting glances, little chaste touches. You’d told him of your father, of Beron, showed him your scars. You’d pined for him for just as long and to know he’d silently yearned for you in return, your heart felt like it might break apart.

“The bond snapped for me during the war,” you offered him a small secret of your own and his eyes found yours, going wide at the revelation.

The second war with Hybern had been a brutal thing. Feyre and Cassian had taken to recruiting help out of the Ancient Prison on the northern shore of the Night Court due to Prythian’s limited numbers. You’d known it was a suicide mission going in and you’d nearly been right. You’d fought alongside death gods and monsters alike in a battle that would be legend for ages to come.

“I wrote you a letter before we left for battle,” another secret, but for him, you’d bare your soul. “I was going to tell you then,” you continued, “I’d been in love with you for 189 years at that point. I was so far gone for you but I’d assumed, that if you wanted me, I would’ve known. You would’ve said something, anything. So I put it all in a letter, worried I wouldn’t return alive.” His breath hitched, remembering the sight of you impaled on a sword, bleeding out in his arms. He’d taken the soldier’s head off their body as penance and it still didn’t feel like enough. You let out a small gurgling laugh, throat tight, eyes wet with tears. “Sometimes I can’t believe I did.”

You took a steadying breath and leaned to kiss his forehead, his eyes closing from the contact, mouth humming. You leaned your cheek on the crown of his head, your thumb rubbing soothing circles in the space behind his ear. His hands went around to your back, nose and cheek resting against the cradle of your chest as he listened to your heart, still beating strong beneath. The two of you were the sort of image that artists carved into marble, the picture of lovers so inseparably bound that they were one eternally, in every life.

“In that letter I apologized for not telling you sooner, said I didn’t need the Cauldron to know it was you my soul sang for. That you were the one the stars had fated me to meet.” He clenched his eyes shut from where his head rested on your rib cage. Every word you uttered was like a poultice to his damaged soul, filling the cracks that had been there since his adolescence.

He was wrong when he’d thought you’d ruin him. No, you’d save him, from the darkness that encroached his mind, the insecurities that lingered there. You were a flower blooming against all odds in the shadows, and he’d do anything for you. All his wasted centuries of dreaming had been given a name and form in you.

“I’m glad I ran from Autumn that day, glad it was Rhys that found me in the wilds, glad it was the Night Court that saved me, but more than anything, I am glad that every step I’ve taken in this life has led me straight to you.” Your hand dragged forward, over his cheek, to gently tip his chin up to face your gaze. “May you never doubt the depths of my love for you.” You kissed his forehead then before moving your lips to the space between his brows, the tip of his nose. His eyes fell shut and his hands came to hold on tightly to your wrists for fear he’d float away. You kissed his cheek, and eyelids, before making your way to his mouth.

This kiss was just as electrifying as the first and he pressed his insistent mouth to yours desperately. He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and took your gasp as the opportunity to slip his tongue against your own. He could kiss you for a millennia and he would not get enough. He wanted all that you had to give and everything after that too. Nothing, not even flying, could compare to how his heart sped when you kissed him like this. He poured centuries of yearning into it.

He pulled off of your mouth and kissed the corner of your lips before leaning back to gaze into your eyes. “I’ll need to tell Rhysand not to expect us back for a few months,” he said, hand coming up to brush a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. Your brain, still two paces behind from that kiss, registered what he was saying and you let out a breathless laugh. “Months? Thought the frenzy was a few weeks?” You replied, still smiling, tears drying and he shrugged, fingertips tracing the skin at your collarbone. “I’ve got two centuries of love to make up for,” he stated softly before smiling in a feral, cunning way, “and I plan on taking my time.”

Azriel ported you to the bedroom and you’d laughed, “I can walk you know.” He smiled, leaning down, kissing your cheek. “Save your energy, Little One.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you to stand between his legs. He allowed himself to look at you, unhurried, a little predatory. You did the same, eyes passing over tanned skin and freckles, tattoos and scars as your gaze made it’s way down to his hips, where you notice his length pressing tightly against the front of his pants. Your eyes trace back up to his, cheeks a little pink, only to find him smirking.

“Are you ever going to be sated?” You laughed. You pulled the hem of your dress up to lean over him and settle a knee next to his hip as you crawled into his lap. He hummed, pulling your hips to his own. He traced his nose along the skin of your throat, inhaling your scent, committing to memory as he nosed the silk strap of your housedress, pushing it down your shoulder and pressing his mouth to the skin there. “For you? Never.” His tongue laved at the length of your throat, as he made his way up before bringing his mouth to yours.

This kiss was slower than the one you’d shared in the dining room. Tongues entwining, teeth biting. He dove deeper, sucking against your tongue before licking along the bow of your upper lip. He rocked his hips up to meet your own, his cock sliding against your slit in a way that had you gasping. His hand pushed your gown up over your hips to your waist and his gaze fixated on the center of your hips, you’d forgone underwear after your bath. “No panties?” He breathed into your mouth. “Maybe I should’ve taken you on the dining room table after all.”

You laughed, rutting your hips against his own, loving the sound that rumbled in his chest. You pulled the little silk dress up and over your head, baring yourself entirely to his gaze. “There will time for that,” you said, voice laced with promise, “but I’d like for you to take me in a bed, properly.” He gave a little laugh then, bringing his face to your own, teasing at your mouth again. “Under the stars wasn’t romantic enough?” His hands found your hips and fingertips pressed into the flesh there. You were sure you’d be bruised all over come tomorrow.

He leaned back pulling your hips up his abdomen. “C’mere,” he commanded, jerking his head in instruction as he laid flat upon the bed, wings spreading in full. He looked like a god this way, but the way he looked at you, muscles rippling as he tensed, jaw ticking, hair debauched, love bites down the tanned column of his throat from your mouth, eyes heavy lidded with lust; if he was a god then certainly you were his goddess. He growled then the noise escaping him unbidden as he hauled you higher to his chest, your hand shooting out to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“You are a goddess and I am but a hopeless disciple,” his voice had pitched deep with want, desire alight in his eyes and you thought you might never tire of seeing him this hungry for you. His fingers dug into your thighs and he hooked your knees to pull you higher. “Let me worship you until I find absolution.” He pulled you to his chin, teeth nipping at the flesh of your inner thighs. His found your eyes again and he nodded to you. “You’re going to sit on my face, sweet one, and I am going to feast on you like the goddess you are.”

Your breath left you in a shuttering broken gasp, and you leaned up, shuffling the last few inches. His arms wrapped around your legs, caging you to his face as hands came around to open your cunt to his view. He let out a primal noise that had the air leaving your lungs in pant and your hands grasped the headboard in some pitiful attempt at grounding yourself. He nosed your clit before pulling you down on his mouth, suckling at you like a man starved.

His tongue pressed flat against your clit and you thought you might break apart. You were sensitive from the night before and you had to actively try not to rock down against his face. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled you forward, hands grasping your hips and rutting you against his hot mouth. You couldn’t help the shuddering moan that left your throat and he hummed along with you, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine.

He circled his tongue in a pattern, quick flicks then slow drags of friction that had pleasure zipping through you until your thighs were twitching, nails digging into the wood of the headboard, hips rocking on his mouth. He nosed at your clit as his tongue slipped down to circle your opening, collecting the wetness that gathered there, groaning at your taste. His lips returned to your clit and he sucked it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, speeding the flicking of his tongue until your hands were shaking and your moans keened to a higher octave.

“Azriel,” you gasped, a trembling hand found his hair, nails scratching. “Az — fucking Gods.” You looked down to him between your thighs and he watched you, the definition of sin. His cheeks had grown pink, brows furrowed, hazel eyes gone molten as he nuzzled his face into you. He unhanded your thigh to slide back to your ass, fingernails digging into the ample flesh there before he released it and his open palm came into fierce contact with the cheek. You jolted at the impact and the sound that left you was the highest, most trembling whine he’d heard come out of you. He catalogued it in his mind for later.

His hand soothed the skin at your behind before smacking the skin again, the contact rippling across the flesh like a tiny earthquake. Your hips tilted against his chin faster, more desperate and your moans grew closer together, a little more frantic as you felt yourself approaching your peak. His tongue circled you again before he sucked the button into his mouth and began a steady, insistent pattern.

You could feel the pleasure focusing, your lower belly tightening. “Az— I swear I’m—” you gasped and your head fell back, exposing your chest and neck to his greedy view. “I’m going to come, baby,” you whined deep, hips canting in tight circles, desperate for release. He hummed an affirmation and his hands grasped your hips to guide your through it. Your release hit and the moan that left you was shattering.

You leaned back, hands finding purchase on his chest, as he pressed kisses to your thighs. “Gods,” you gasped, falling to his side as you moved off of him and pressed a hand to your chest, catching your breath. “Fuck me,” your eyes shut for a moment and you felt his lips pressing tender kisses to your eyelids. He kissed to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, before whispering devastation there. “I told you my love, I want to take you apart slow.”

His lips came to your chest, pressing a kiss to the jugular notch at the base of your throat between the clavicles. “There is no war,” kiss, “no mission,” another kiss, moving south to the globe of your breast, “no threat this time.” He breathed into your sternum, tongue tracing the skin of your cleavage.

You were right that Azriel was mouthy. Mother above, now that the gates had opened, he was bent on taking everything from you and you would let him. You would let him shatter you to pieces, trusting he’d put you back together again.

“You’re wearing too much,” you complained, fingers pulling at the waist of his trousers, which seemed to have grown impossibly tight around his hardness. Your hand pushed under the band and fingers grasped him firmly, his gasp escaping directly into the skin over your heart. He rutted into your hand, mouth coming up to your own as he kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue.

You pulled back from the kiss and fixed him with an imploring look. “Can I put my mouth on you now?” You asked softly, batting your eyelashes a bit, just shy of begging. He felt desire rip through him, his cock giving a jerk. A growl released from his throat. “As much as I want you on your knees for me,” he breathed deeper. “As much as I want to fuck this pretty little mouth,” his thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you leaned forward to pull it between your lips, tonguing the scarred skin there as you sucked.

His eyes fixated on the action, pupils blown wide. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and spread his hand to grasp your neck at the height of your throat, “I thought our bargain was every way that I wanted you?” He watched your eyes flutter as he squeezed from the sides, your breath hitching, cunt growing wetter. He could smell your arousal and the feral need of the newly minted bond had him feeling utterly primal. “And right now, I want you on your hands and knees, begging as I take you from behind.” His voice had pitched deep, and you thought you might never recover from this.

His hand traced down to your wrist, pulling it from his cock and then he patted your ass. “Be a good girl for me.” Your breath came out shaky and you nodded, scrambling to turn around and bend down to present yourself for him. A pleased hum settled in his chest as he stood to slip off his trousers before kneeling behind you. He ran his eyes up the expanse of your back, the scars that now resided there. He’d kill anyone who threatened you again, he’d take hands from their bodies if they touched you.

He watched your shoulders roll as you adjusted your weight, and he was reminded of every backless gown you’d worn in the last two centuries. How he had never allowed himself to touch you in the way he wanted.

He ran a scarred hand up the center of your back, leaning forward and grasping your neck from behind, bringing you up and into the long line of his front. His nose trailed your shoulder and his lips found the spot below your ear again. His teeth came in contact with the flesh there, biting then pressing his tongue into the skin to soothe the sting. The little whimper you let out made him smile, he loved you like this. His other hand reached down to guide his cock to your core, hips dragging the length through to slick there. His brain catalogued each sound that you made, he was mapping you out slowly, learning your body and memorizing all.

The hand holding your neck released its grip, and he pushed you back forward, your hands trembled as they came to hold your weight.

Before leaving you, his fingers gathered your hair and he wrapped the length of it around his hand once before fisting and pulling, causing a low moan to escape you. “Hold on, little mate.” His voice ground out and he guided himself into your warm cunt, pulling back once, then twice to work you open until he sheathed himself fully.

His hips were flush against the flesh of your ass as he ground in and your breath began to come in pants. You were so in over your head and you loved it. He laughed, ‘I heard that, my love,’ he spoke into your mind. ‘Let me know if you want to stop.’ You nearly laughed aloud. ‘As if,’ you repeated your words from the night before.

His hand tugged at your hair in response as he pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, hard and deep. Your back arched and your arms threatened collapsed. He began a slow and steady pace, rutting to the hilt and pulling out before slamming back home, skin slapping against skin. You could hear the loud suck of your cunt on every pull, the noise itself was desperately erotic, and Azriel fucking loved it. He wanted you like this like always. He wanted to stay in the warmth of your cunt for the rest of his days. He picked up his pace and groaned when he felt you clench around him as a wanton moan escaped you.

His hand released your hair and he leaned over your form, kissing your shoulders, holding you tightly as he pushed back to the hilt and ground in, small cants of his hips causing your breath to tremble.

“Azriel, baby, you’re gonna ruin me,” you spoke quietly, head falling forward. He laughed darkly, biting at the skin at the top of your spine. His hand grasped the front of your throat and brought you back up into him, mouthing at your shoulder. “Tell me you’re mine,” he ground out, hips pushing faster. His other hand found its way to your front, tracing down your soft stomach to rub slow circles at your clit. “Tell me you’re mine and let me fuck you into oblivion.”

You groaned feeling your orgasm crawling up your spine, cunt tensing. “I’ve been yours for two centuries,” you gasped out, breathless, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. He growled out something primal, but you continued, delirious with pleasure as his fingers and cock broke you apart. “I’ll give you anything.” His fingers tightened at your neck and he slammed to the hilt, grinding in.

“Anything?” He questioned, voice shaky with need. “Would you let me take you apart? Would you let me ruin your sweet cunt daily? Would you let me fuck a baby into you?” Your mind blanked and your voice pitched into a deep moan, a base desire possessing you. “Yes,” you nodded, breathless. “All of it,” you gasped, “anything for you, mate.” His eyes pinched shut, a low whine escaped somewhere from the pits of him. Mother above. His fingers squeezed your neck and he picked up the pace, fucking you faster. You shook with each impact of his hips, your breath leaving you in small whines.

The scarred tips of his fingers worked your clit faster. “You’ll give me anything?” He questioned again, breathless, pace faltering as his own release tightened at the base of spine. “Come for me, my love, come with me.” Your breath caught at your throat as your cunt tightened impossibly around him and he groaned deep. You called his name as your climax hit and he keened a low whine, hips grinding into you, his seed painting your walls.

He released your throat and gave a shaky laugh as he grasped your chin to find your mouth. The kiss was utterly depraved and your walls fluttered again, making him groan into your mouth. You pulled back and your eyes found his over your shoulder. “A baby, huh?” You spoke, voice a little wobbly. He wanted to shrink under the weight of your gaze, the question there. “Not yet,” he spoke softly, “but if you do decide to gift me with a child, I’ll be the luckiest male alive.” You smiled and kissed him, softer this time, heart singing at the promise there.

He pulled out of you and let you collapse against the bed, rolling over to rest at your back. His eyes found your cunt and he watched with rapt obsession as his release leaked from you. You traced his gaze and a laugh escaped you. “Come here, my love,” you spoke softly, opening your arms. “I want to get some rest before you go feral again.”

He smiled, laughing lightly before crawling up the bed to where you awaited him. He settled into your embrace, head resting on your chest while his restless fingers began idly tracing the skin of your arm. Your fingers set to combing through the strands of his hair and his eyes closed, pleased with gentle intimacy of the action. “I love you,” he spoke softly, exhaustion beginning to creep in on him. You smiled, fingers trailing to his back, caressing the skin at the base of his wing. “As I love you,” you whispered, “more than anything.” He hummed and nuzzled to the skin of your chest as darkness overtook him.

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #i love this bat boy sm #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #Azriel smut #bat boys x reader #bat boys #azriel acosf #azriel acomaf #This is utter filth guys #These two really went at it for like 24 hours straight

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teastainedprose · 8 months ago

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Hi !

Can you do a Homelander x F!Reader with a blackmail situation ?

For the context, someone's blackmailing Reader to leave Homelander and because of the stress she did it when he was patrolling. Of course, Homelander wouldn't accept it and try to find her but he can't. So a few days later Vought brought him a new "girlfriend" to heal the pain Reader "created" only for them to (by mistake) imply that they are responsible for the departure of Reader. After dealing with the situation at Vought, he went looking for her again, eventually finding her at her favorite spot, where she was trying to forget Homelander.

You can change some parts if you want 😁

Thanks you if you do it ♥️❤️

Listen, Anon. LISTEN! I am grabbing you by the shoulders, I am gently shaking you, I am lovingly cupping your cheek and whispering, "Write the fic." - because it's clear that you've got the plot and I bet you've been daydreaming up the story route and I need you to write it. Spit out some bullet points. Scribble out a few scenes out of order, but write it!!

As I read this ask while rolling out of bed half awake and ran off in a slightly different direction while I brainstormed in the shower and I know you've got an idea there so WRITE IT!! So I can read it

Now have something similar, but not quite what you outlined. This kinda evolved into a companion/epilogue?? piece to Play With Fire, as Vought would have plenty of reason to not want Homelander dating a canned employee, especially if she's a fat little thing. Bad for the brand and all.

+1.5k words | Warning for violence/gore, Homelander can have a little murder. As a treat. Plus-Sized female reader, established relationship, no proofreading as I was possessed

The moment his boots drop onto the balcony and Homelander strides into the penthouse, he knows something is wrong.

First, there is the absence of you. Not just the lack of your body settled on the couch waiting for him as you often are, but everything you touched. The laptop you diligently type away at while working is gone. The vibrant throw pillows you insisted on getting to make the imposing couch more inviting are missing. The plush blanket you always coiled yourself into wasn't haphazardly thrown over the back of the couch as it always is when not in service. The lack of these items now makes the couch look barren and cold. Now Homelander can see how uninviting the whole thing looks.

There are other pieces of you missing as well. The trinkets and baubles you'd purchased on a whim and set about the penthouse, coloring the space with pieces of you. The discarded books, many with notes and dog-eared pages weren't haphazardly stuffed in strange places. Homelander would check the bedroom, but he knows the closet now has an empty space where your clothing hung.

There's a buzz starting up in his brain, an insistent worry that's setting his teeth on edge as Homelander's mind races across every possible reason why you're gone. You left him. Someone kidnapped you. You finally got tired of him. Someone stole you away. You hate him. Someone is hurting you. The buzzing grows in volume as Homelander's lip twitches up, feet taking him to pace across the floor before a movement in the corner of his eye cuts straight through the noise.

The buzzing goes silent. The colors are correct. Relief rushes over Homelander as he turns to face the figure in full. You, there you are and-

No. Homelander blinks, drawing back a step as he takes in the woman standing at the entrance of his penthouse. She has your hair color; the cut has been styled like yours, but the texture is off. She's got something close to your complexion, your eye color even, and she's wearing clothing in your usual manner of dress, but everything is wrong. For one, she's thinner. Homelander sneers.

The woman smiles, uncertain as her heart races like a rabbit against her ribs. "Hi." One word uttered and it's all wrong. That's not your voice. That's not your smile. There is no sunshine breaking across this woman's face as she looks at Homelander. Her expression is quiet and expectant, waiting. Anxious.

He inhales slowly, rolling his neck as Homelander clenches his fists at his side. The scent on the air is bitter. She's afraid. She should be.

"No, no, no. Who the fuck are you?" Homelander snaps out, across the room in two long strides and now she's gasping. Gasping because Homelander has his fingers about her throat, gloves creaking softly as his grip tightens and lifts her. "Who the fuck are you?" He repeats, barking the words out.

"I-I'm Vicky," She stammers out as Homelander eases up enough to let her breath and set her feet back on the floor. That rabbit heart is trying to burst free within the woman's chest now, beating all the louder. "Y-your er, new girlfriend...?" Her words end in a panicked squeak as the woman tries to shrink away.

"New- "Homelander cuts off as he stares at her, head tilted to the side and lip twitching as he digests this bit of information. He swallows and takes in a breath, reeling in his rage as his mind whirls. Vought had decided to replace you. Plucked up some stupid woman who only shares a similar color palette with you, but she isn't you. This woman is nowhere close to the beautiful creature you are.

Vought didn't approve of your secret relationship. They'd deemed you unmarketable. Not the image they wanted to project for the brand. Then there was the hope that Homelander would grow bored of you. To wait out his hyper-fixation on you. The months had crawled by and still Homelander kept you close. You'd moved in, burrowed yourself right into his life as Homelander wanted.

For some fucking stupid reason, Vought thought a replacement would distract him. As if he's a child, or a dumb dog they've swapped a toy out on.

"Vicky," Homelander smiles and it's the smile of a shark. All teeth and dead eyes. "How lovely," A purr now as Homelander slides his hand down her neck and brushes his thumb over her collarbone. Her smile is uncertain, but it's still there as she relaxes. The rabbit in her chest calms down. He digs his thumb in as Homelander sucks on his teeth.

Fucking idiot.

There's no warning when Homelander's fist buries itself into the woman's abdomen, only a wheezing hiss as the air is forced out of her. A wet sound follows under all that crunching and grinding of bone as Homelander twists his fist and pulls it back. He clicks his tongue, releasing the woman's corpse to topple across the floor.

Homelander exhales, puffing out his cheeks while looking down at his fist in mild disgust. The red leather hides fresh blood well, but he knows it'll congeal into a darker mess soon enough. Leaning over, he absently wipes it off on the fabric of the woman's sunshine colored dress. The sunshine would look better on you while the smeared red looks better on Vicky as far as Homelander is concerned.

It doesn’t take him long to hunt Ashley down, storming into her office with eyes flashing red. The only reason Homelander doesn’t fucking laser her in two is because she’s crying. Ashley is crying and blowing her nose into a tissue as she looks at Homelander, eyes filled with regret and tears. She’s grown fond of you, Homelander realizes and that’s reason enough not to cave her skull in. Homelander knows you like her well enough, too. Ashley blubbers the story out. They’d wanted you gone. Out of the picture and out of his life. You were an uncontrollable variable that refused to play ball and Edgar wasn’t one for loose strings. A replacement had already been found and was on her way earlier this morning. While Homelander was out on a mission, disposing of you had been easy enough. It only took thirty minutes to pack all of your things, revoke your access to the building and effectively lock you out. Ashley had managed a helping hand in the form of a plane ticket wherever you wished, knowing you no longer rented your own apartment after moving in with Homelander.

It had been a plot against you, he knows this now but why had you gone so willingly? Why weren’t you screaming outside of Vought Tower for him? Why did you take that plane ticket? Something rotten wriggles within Homelander’s heart. He knows he’s not an easy creature to live with and has worn your patience thin some days. The start of your relationship would have been considered rocky at best and there’s all that stalking he did that you still don’t know about. They gave you an out and you took it.

His trip to the airport is swift and no one would dare try to stop the Homelander as he seeks you out at your intended gate. Except you’re not there. You’ve not even checked in yet. He goes to your old apartment next, eyes scanning the building for your form. Your favorite restaurant is next. Then the place that makes your favorite tea. After that he’s hovering above the bookstore you’ve dragged him to. None of them contain you. Homelander is lost for a moment, mind frantic with worry now at where you could be. Then he remembers one of your favorite spots. A park close to where your old apartment is and it’s another place Homelander has been dragged to by you. This is a spot he enjoyed. It was quiet, even in such a bustling city. He always pretended it was a forest clearing you two were enjoying the peace of.

You’re there. Of course you are. You’re settled on a bench, head turned towards the trees as Homelander descends. “Sweetheart,” He growls. It comes out harsher than Homelander wants, but he’s on edge. Why did you leave him?

You jump, head snapping round and he can see you’ve been crying. Your eyes are puffy, face pinched in pain as Homelander’s heart seizes at the sight.

“What!?” You stare a beat, before anger rises. You’ve always been his little spitfire. “You had me cast out! They packed me up and kicked me out on your orders! You- You abandoned me…!” The fire smolders and dies as tears leak down your face.

"No, no, no. Not you, never you!" In an instant, all of Homelander's rage vanishes in the face of your sorrow. How could you ever want to leave his side? Foolish of him to even think it. Why would you ever want to leave? He’s beside you, he’s gathering you up in his arms, he’s crushing you gently in his hold. Your sobs are wet, loud, and there’s snot on his suit. Homelander doesn’t care. He shushes you, fingers combing through your hair as the arm about your middle squeezes just a bit tighter. The weight of you sinking against him and into him is a comfort, your flesh yielding under his grip on you.

“I came home and you were gone,” Homelander whispers against your ear as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. He inhales deeply, all of the tension leaving his body as he takes in your scent. “But I’m here now. It’s okay, I’ve got you,” He exhales, pulling back enough to look down at you. Homelander smiles. You’re here, you’re safe, he will never ever let you out of his sight again.

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys fanfic #homelander writing #homelander x you #homelander x f!reader #homelander x plus sized reader #canon x you #🍵 play with fire #Yandere Homelander is my fav Homelander #you're never allowed to leave #ANON WRITE THE FIC #anon ask #ask #FUCK I DIDNT EVEN WRITE THE BLACKMAIL PART #ANON I NEED YOU TO WRITE THAT FIC SO I CAN READ IT #task failed successfully??

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chocochipsushi · 1 year ago

Text

𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝑼𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊’𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

NSFW! minors do not interact! 18+ only!

🌸Word count: 5.3K

🌸AU: Toji as your father’s best friend, consoling you with his cock after a fight with your dad

🌸CW: cockwarming, toji calling reader all sorts of pretty names, fucking while reader's dad is around, unprotected sex, fluff

🌸A/N: Hello... I am here to clarify some things. I found out recently that I got a pretty established and amazing fanartist on Twitter into a situation where they received backlash for recreating one of my Uncle Toji scenes. I felt so bad because antis were giving the artist shit for something I wrote. So I am here to let all of you know that:

1) reader's age was never specifically spelled out bc I wanted everyone to be able to relate to the reader's age and not be restrained by a number in the story. If I knew that there was a rule where we had to indicate ages of every character in stories, I would have done so... Anyway, if I were to be asked what the OC's age was, I would say she is within the age range of 26-28yo.

2) It will be clear in the last chapter as I tried to give a short back story (before I even saw those mean tweets) but I will let you all know now - Toji was out of the reader's life from age 9 to 24, reader's dad had her at 21, and Toji is a few years younger than the dad. So the math is that the age gap between Toji and the reader is ~18 years.

3) Reader hardly calls Toji by his name because she feels awkward doing that since she's always known him as Uncle Toji. but if you notice, she has been getting braver through the chapters. And she calls him 'Uncle Toji' during sex most of the time coz they like to roleplay??

Anyway, I am only explaining bc I really do not wish to hurt anyone, and I hope the fanartist know that the hate should be directed at me, not at them.

Next chapter will be the last. thank you all for supporting my Uncle Toji series.

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

I am surprised when Toji’s hand on the small of my back gently guides me to the side, away from guests trying to lure us into their conversations. I look up at him in confusion and worry, only to be met with a concerned look on his face.

He dips his head so that I can hear him when he murmurs, “You alright, baby? Wanna go home?”

Oh.

I’d had a fight with my dad before coming to the gala dinner. Toji was caught in the crossfire when he came to pick me up. I was initially supposed to meet him at the dinner with my parents, where I would be handed over to Toji since each guest could only bring a Plus One. However, once my dad and I started raising our voices at each other, my mother called Toji right away and got him to come over to take me.

I was glad for it, and I’m sure my parents were, too. I haven’t been in the best of moods since then and Toji knows me way too well to have me engage in any conversation. I am still a good guest in the way I politely respond to questions asked, yet at the same time cutting the conversation short. But Toji understands that I am being civil only for the sake of it.

I give Toji a small smile and shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He observes me for a few seconds. Finally, he rubs his thumb on my back and nods. “Okay. But I’ll bring you home early. Let me just talk to Dr. Hung.”

I have no objection to that, so Toji slides his engulfing hand down to take hold of mine and starts walking towards Dr. Hung. I try to listen politely and take mental notes of their conversation, since I am also here to make connections that might benefit my father’s company when I eventually take over. Toji, being my father’s best friend and longest business partner, knows of this and even tries to bring up our company’s name.

By the time they were done talking business, I had Dr. Hung’s name card and a promise to have a business lunch, all thanks to Toji. And finally, when it is just us again, Toji rests a comforting hand on my back and leans down so that his lips are by my ear.

“Let’s bring you home now, shall we?”

I look up and nod my head, to which he returns a nod at. Before we leave, however, Toji looks around to locate my parents, who are engaged in a conversation with a few other notable people in the industry. Not wanting to interrupt them, Toji guides me straight out of the ballroom and walks me to his car where his driver is already waiting.

“Careful,” he murmurs with his big palm resting on top of my head as I get into the car.

He gets his driver to bring me back and only when he has walked me back to my room, I face him and hold onto his calloused hand with both of mine.

“Stay for a bit, Toji?”

He stares at me for a long moment, not saying anything. I know that he is debating whether he should, since my parents might come home and see him here. But I give him a small pout that I know he can never resist, and he eventually squeezes my fingers — his non-verbal way of saying yes.

When I let go of his hand, Toji undoes the knot on his tie, ready to get comfortable. By the time I am out of the shower, I find Toji already laying on my bed, tie off and blazer-less. He has the top few buttons of his shirt undone, his arm resting behind his head widening the plackets of his top and allowing me to see more skin. He is on his phone, probably going through some soccer news.

Cuddling up to him seems so inviting that I rush through my nightly routine just to jump into bed with him. Toji fully expects it, having experienced this too many times for him not to be ready for it. He spreads his arm out just in time for me to burrow into his side.

“Ugh, what a terrible day,” I groan into his armpit.

Toji pats my crown and rests his palm on the swell of my hips. “Your dad only means well, you know that, baby.”

I lift myself up on my elbow, my hand on his chest to keep me steady, as I glare at him. Toji returns a levelled gaze. “He thinks that I’m not focused and that I am not trying hard enough to learn about taking over the company!”

Toji locks his phone and puts it aside just so he can give me more attention. But when I hear his response, I suddenly wish he didn’t give me any at all, or that I even asked him to stay.

“Well, do you think you really have been giving your all in the handover?” I simply gape at him, in disbelief that he would say something like that. Toji taps my hip. “Look at it this way, Princess, from your father’s point of view. You complain when you have business meetings, when they are actually good for your business. You hate the small talk and show an attitude, which I can’t say gives off a good impression. You hang back and passively stand there and look pretty at the networking events your father brings you to, that are really for you to broaden your connections.”

Toji could probably see the look of incredulity and betrayal on my face, because he sighs and strokes my chin with his free hand. Being the petty me that I am, I turn my head away with a pout.

“You know that I am always fair and logical, Princess. I’m not just taking your dad’s side because he is my best friend,” Toji murmurs.

I stay quiet, trying to rationalise his explanation. But the longer I do, the more heated I get. So, instead of answering him, I get up, tear the sheets off my bed to get under it, and reach out to turn the lights off, plunging us into darkness. I lie on my side, facing away from Toji even though he can’t see me in the darkness anyway. He doesn’t move or say anything for a while but a few seconds later, I hear movement and in the next few seconds, the nightlight next to my bed turns on. I feel Toji getting under the blanket behind me where he rests his heavy hand on my hip. He comes closer until his lips are hovering over my ear.

“Although…” he murmurs huskily, quietly. “Of course I will be there to help you. How can Uncle Toji leave his baby girl to be eaten by the wolves?” While my heart flutters at his words, I make sure not to react. Toji rubs his rough palm up and down the side of thigh now. “Together, we’ll dominate the playing field. I’ll guide and bring success to you.”

I know that he always keeps his promises and he never promises anything he can’t do. But I still won’t respond, so Toji nudges my earlobe with his lips. I can feel the scruff on his chin that is already growing.

“It’s all for your own good, Princess. Your dad just doesn’t want you to fail. Neither do I.”

I turn my head slightly and grumble, “I thought you said you’d help me succeed.”

The tip of Toji’s nose now brushes my cheek. He rubs my side gently, at the same time causing my night dress to ride up. “Oh, that’s not negotiable, baby. Of course I will. But you’ve got to try and make it out on your own too.”

“But I am trying,” I whine, now twisting my body a little more so that I am facing him.

He is staring down at me with the softest gaze — one that he only reserves for me. “Of course you are,” Toji almost coos. This only makes me pout instinctively. He leans down to press his scarred lips to mine. “But try harder.”

Immediately, I pull away with a loud whine and slap his broad shoulder. Toji’s chuckle is low and husky, so warm and familiar that I am already melting before he kisses me again. This time, he nips on my bottom lip, his palm on my hip now moving in sensual strokes. Little moans and mewls escape me as some sort of resistance, not wanting to be played into his hands like that. But we both know that I am enjoying this, especially when I clench my fist on the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. Toji hooks his fingers under the hem of my night dress and drags them up along my thigh, pulling my dress up.

He is toying with the band of my panties when he breaks the kiss and murmurs against my lips, “Still mad at Uncle Toji?” My teeth pull on my bottom lip as I nod my head. The corners of Toji’s lips turn down. “Can’t have that now, can we?” he hums before burying his face into my nape. He trails the faintest of kisses along my neck, his fingers now tugging and flicking at the thin elastic of my underwear. “You’re not tired, are you, baby? I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep yet.”

And with that, Toji lifts himself up on his elbow as he pulls my g-string down as far as he can. He kisses me on the shoulder just as he hovers his hand over my crotch, the tip of his finger drawing shapes on my sensitive skin, making my hair stand on ends. I hold my breath as he gets closer to my clit, dipping his finger between my thighs so that the length of his digit rubs on my pussy lips.

I can feel his erection growing hard against my ass, especially when he starts thrusting his hips slowly in tandem with the rhythm of his finger sliding between my labia. The tip of his finger teases my entrance. Pushing just an inch of his digit into my hole, he slides out and spreads my slick along my lips. I swallow and turn my head so that I could at least see him a little. Almost at once, Toji leans in to kiss the corner of my lips.

His lips are still on me when he mumbles, “You’re so cute when you act like you’re mad at me.”

I let out a whine and reach out to thump my fist on his shoulder. Toji merely chuckles against my lips. He gives me one last kiss and pulls away, now moving to lay on his back. I turn my head to take a look at what he’s doing and see that he is undoing his pants. Knowing that he is actually going to finish what he started, I return to face the front.

His strong arm snakes around my waist again and this time, I can feel his member poking my ass, excited and hard. The expensive material of his pants brush against the back of my thigh, adjusting my position so that my legs are scissored. Scooching closer to me, Toji holds his cock in his hand just for him to rub it against my flaps. I bite my bottom lip in an effort to try not to stick my ass out. But it is useless because my hips start to move and grind against his cockhead, allowing him to spread his precum and my wetness along my slit.

Toji wraps his arm across my chest and brings me inevitably closer so that his lips are pressing against my ear. As he continues to thrust his hips, letting the length of his cock slide along my pussy lips, he lets out the sexiest grunts and the lowest of moans. At this point, I just want him to put it in me already. And he knows, because I arch my back to the point I am pressing my ass against his hips.

Reaching his hand down, Toji tactically spreads my cheeks apart and positions his cockhead at the entrance of my wet pussy. Thrusting his hips forward, he stretches out my hole, making me whine and moan in pain and pleasure. Once he has his tip in, he returns to hugging me tight against his body. Toji’s nose is at the back of my ear, his lips on my earlobe. I can hear his shaky breathing as he enters me deeper.

“Fuck…” he groans quietly. “You feel so good, baby.”

Toji is slow as he sheathes himself inside of me, trying to savour the moment he first slides into me. Only when he is balls deep inside of me, he pauses and groans into my ear while he enjoys the pulsing, warm cocksleeve around his meat. My jaw goes slack when he finally pulls out several seconds later, only to thrust back into me again. His strokes start out slow before building up to a passionate rhythm of fucking.

Toji growls into my ear and I just know that he isn’t going to last very long tonight. Especially when he brings his hand to wrap around my throat, his thick fingers lightly gripping the sides of my neck. My pussy is getting wetter. The sounds of Toji’s hips slamming against my ass and the squelching of my sopping pussy are almost too loud in my quiet room. It doesn’t help that Toji releases the chokehold around my neck, only to bring his hand down to my clit, his fingers already rubbing the nub in circles.

“Ah, Daddy…” I mewl breathily, my body already trembling at his ministrations.

Toji grunts. “God. You’re so tight and warm around me, Princess.” He lets out a long groan. “Daddy’s going to cum.”

By the sound of his irregular breathing, I just know that he is so close. Just a few more thrusts and he is going to explode inside of me.

Which is why I have to be the one to stop him with my hand against his hips, giving him a squeeze in warning, when I hear the door creaking open. My heart is racing with fear and anxiety. Toji curses under his breath but immediately ceases his movements. He tries very hard to regulate his breathing quietly. He taps my thigh and I just know what he wants me to do. I shut my eyes and pretend to sleep.

Someone takes a few steps into the room. Toji twists his body so that he appears to be lying on his back. I hear him groan, like how a tired person would.

“Oh, you’re with her.”

I really hope the thumping of my heart against my chest is not as loud as it sounds like to me. Because my father is here, speaking quietly to Toji.

“We had a little talk before she fell asleep,” Toji mumbles. I am impressed that he doesn’t sound at all out of breath.

My father lets out a loud sigh. Instinctively, my entire body clenches with anxiety, even down to my pussy walls squeezing Toji’s swollen cock. Toji chokes on a grunt and reactively moves his hand that is under the blanket to squeeze my arm lightly in warning.

“Yeah, I might have been too harsh on her,” my father reflects. He sounds a little regretful.

Toji clears his throat. He knows that I am listening and will very well treat him according to his reply. He pauses for a second before saying, “Good you know that. She really is trying, you know. She’s a good girl.”

As a reward for Toji sticking up for me, I pretend to shift in my sleep so that I press my ass against his hips, fully taking in his cock. Toji lets out a short hiss, which he covers up by clearing his throat.

“She can be a brat,” he comments, making sure that I hear the edge in his tone. The corner of my lip lifts slightly. “But she is a good kid.”

“I know.” My father sighs. “I feel terrible. We never have fights.”

Toji scoffs. “Obviously. You’re a sucker for your daughter.”

I could almost hear my father rolling his eyes. “You’re not one to talk. I’ve never seen you fuss over anyone like you do with her. She can’t even meet boys with the way you’re always hovering around her.”

Toji shifts his leg, at the same time angling his cock and driving his meat deeper inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning. He is almost growling when he answers, “Boys can’t take care of her.”

“You know, I agree with you. But then who will?”

I wish I had my eyes open to watch the non-verbal interaction between my father and Toji. Because the tension in the air intensifies and my dad almost sounds interrogative now.

“You? You want to take care of my daughter?”

“Just ‘cause she’s a brat and a princess, you think I can’t handle her?” Toji may sound like he is joking but I just know that he is being defensive.

The tension breaks when my father laughs. “Oh, I know for sure you can handle her, Toji. I’m just not confident she can take care of you, ya grumpy old geezer.”

Toji’s body relaxes behind me. He scoffs and says, “Like I need anyone taking care of me.”

“Hmm. True.” A moment of silence passes, putting an end to the short distraction from their original conversation. My father sighs and asks, “Are you staying?” Without waiting for Toji to answer though, he quickly changes his question to an instruction, “Stay the night and talk to her in the morning before breakfast. She listens to you better. Then we’ll go for brunch at Fordeux.”

Toji chuckles under his breath. “Bribing me with a meal at my favourite place, huh?” My father doesn’t answer but I know he must be grinning. Toji flips to the side and pats my hip over the blanket. “Alright. I’ll make sure she’s talking to you again tomorrow.”

“Good ni—”

“But,” Toji stops him in his tracks. My father pauses. “You need to cut her some slack too. Let her do things at her pace.”

It takes a while for my father to respond but when he does, my heart lightens so much that I feel like I might float. “Fine.” I can almost hear him roll his eyes. “Can’t say shit about me when you’re as big of a sucker for her.”

“Shut up, dickhead.”

My father’s laughter is getting further and further until I hear the door open again. The moment it closes behind him and we are back in the silence of my room, I open my eyes. I wait a couple more seconds before turning my head around to face Toji. He turns to look at me. I keep staring at him, not saying anything, probably scaring him because he opens his mouth to say something. Before he could even get a word out though, I reach my arm behind me and grab his neck, pulling him close. Toji’s fingers tighten around my hip when my lips touch his, so possessive and full of yearning that I can only respond in a sensual swirl of my hips.

Hearing him moan into my mouth, I am motivated to give him more. Arching my back to press my ass against his groin, I rock my hips at a steady pace, sliding his cock in and out of my tight hole. Toji kisses me back sloppily, his jaw slack at the pleasure my wet pussy is giving him.

I pull away from his lips, which only makes Toji’s eyes flutter open as he stares at me in a lovestruck daze. It makes me grin. I am usually the one with that expression. Circling my fingers around his wrist, I pull his hand away from my hip and move away from him. His brows draw together for a moment before he realises what I am about to do as I push him back and climb on top of him, straddling his hips.

Toji licks his lips and bites down on the bottom one as he watches me steady myself with a hand on his chest and my hand wrapped around his dick. I lift myself up so that I am hovering over his thick cock. Sliding his cockhead up and down my wet lips, I glance up at him, finding him already in position with his arms behind his head, ready to watch me ride him.

Lowering myself as I rub his mushroom head along my slit, the wet smacking of my pussy lips becomes louder and almost more elaborate. Toji’s teeth are tugging on his bottom lip and I can just tell that his restraint is almost breaking at my teasing. He is probably just two seconds away from flipping us around and completely obliterating me when I finally sink down on his dick, slowly letting his wide girth stretch me out.

Toji’s hip spasms at the immense pleasure my sopping cunt is giving him and his face contorts into one of agony and bliss, all at the same time. Placing both hands on his chest now, I hold myself stable as I continue taking in his cock, all the way down until he is balls deep inside of me. I let out the breath I had been holding in and lift my head to find Toji with his eyes barely open. He always enjoys the first time his cock slides into my pussy.

As I slide my palm up his smooth chest, I tease, “You alright there, Uncle Toji?”

It takes him a few seconds but Toji finally blinks the haze away. He is already glaring at me. Taking a hand away from the back of his head, his palm meets my ass with a resounding smack. “What’s gotten into you, huh? Thought you were mad at Uncle Toji?”

As I lean forward with a grin, I lift my ass so that his cock slides out of my tight snatch. “How could I stay mad at you?” Toji flickers his eyes down to my lips, looking so mesmerised by the way my bottom lip is caught between my teeth. “You stood up for me.”

Toji’s hand cups my chin and pulls me closer. “If I don’t, who will?”

My heart flutters at his words, sending a ripple down south that massages his meat. Toji’s warm breath hits my lips in a soft moan before taking my mouth in his. He kisses me deep and slow. Readjusting my hands to hold myself up on the bed beside him, I slowly start to move again, sliding my wet cunt up and down his hard dick. He could still kiss me until I started going faster, slapping my ass down to meet the base of his cock each time. Letting out a low, deep moan, Toji breaks the kiss and tilts his head up slightly, trying to get more air into his lungs.

I stop for a moment, only to change my position so that I have my palms flat on my headboard, completely hovering above him now. I move my hips again, fast and powerful that I have the bed rocking slightly, my tits swinging in Toji’s face, my perked nipples just grazing his stubble and his sharp nose. The man below me lets rip a growl and grabs a handful of my breast, latching his mouth on my tit. I throw my head back at the sensation of his tongue flicking over my stiff bud. My pussy is only getting wetter, making me glide up and down his thick cock easily.

Toji’s other hand slides down to my body, finding my ass. I mewl when he slaps my mound before giving it a squeeze, his grunts only letting me know that he enjoys my reaction. I know that Toji is enjoying this, but he always wants to finish with him on top. And I am slowly losing my strength as I start to slow down. He gives me one last slap and squeeze to my ass before unlatching from my breast. With his hands on my hips, he stops me from moving, holding me up with his hands now cupping my ass.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy…” I whine when he starts rutting his hips, impaling me over and over with his thick meat.

“Mm…” he groans. “Baby.” He cannot stop himself from giving my flesh another squeeze. “Princess.” At that petname, I fall forward and melt into his chest completely, letting him hold me up with pure brute strength. Toji’s grunt in my ear is low and guttural. “My pretty girl,” he moans. My cunt grips tighter around his cock. He knows what this does to me.

Sliding a hand up to my head, he pushes my hair away from my face so that I can feel his warm murmur on my cheek when he says, “My darling little kitten.” I shut my eyes and let out a mewl. “Daddy made you so wet, pretty baby.” Toji squeezes a handful of my ass. “Gonna cum for Daddy, sweetheart?” I can only whine and nod my head dumbly. stops with his cock entirely sheathed inside of me and circles his hips, enjoying the sticky sound of our juices mixing together. He groans at my pussy pulsing around him.

He tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on my temple and murmurs, “Daddy’s going to cum, baby doll. And I’m going to ruin your pretty little body when I do.” I can only mewl in response, my walls fluttering around his sheathed cock. My head is buzzing from my unexpected orgasm, my body already reacting involuntarily at his words. Toji nudges my temple as he moves to whisper in my ear, still gyrating his hips with his cock inside of me, “My cum all over your stomach and your tits, baby. Gonna look so pretty, all covered in Uncle Toji’s love.”

I gasp when he flips us around suddenly, his dick slipping out of me at the movement. I am lying on the bed staring up at him now. He cages me under his big, strong build, his eyes dark and lustful as he watches me. Licking his fingers, he reaches between us and gives my sopping wet pussy a slap, causing me to jerk in surprise. A corner of his lip pulls up. He does this again, and this time I whine.

Toji takes hold of his cock now, positioning it at the entrance of my parted pussy. He lets out a deep exhale as he slides into me again. I like being in this position where I am able to watch Toji’s expression as he fucks me. His eyebrows would be furrowed, his dark, green eyes would be piercing mine, the ends of his hair just slightly wet from the physical exertion. I smile and reach up to give him a peck on his lips.

It is meant to be a sweet gesture, but Toji lets out a low growl. He drops his head to kiss me hard while he speeds up his pace. I move in tandem with his fucking, meeting the base of his cock with every hip thrust. I make a conscious effort to squeeze my walls, my pussy gripping so tightly onto his cock that Toji quickly pulls out like he has been burnt, just to keep stroking his meat furiously. He cums on me like he said he would, the white liquid painting my stomach with some droplets staining my night dress.

He takes a while to recover from his heaving but when he does, he gets up slowly and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He keeps his eyes entirely on me the whole time he strips from his clothes. The moment he is done, he scoops me up carefully and walks me to the bathroom where he brings me to the shower stall with him once he takes the dress off me.

“I’m going to do something stupid tomorrow,” Toji suddenly announces in the middle of our clean-up.

My heart stops for a second. I look up at him shampooing his hair. “What?” When he only stares at me, not saying anything, I laugh and joke, “Gonna have another cheat day and eat all the carbs you want?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Everyday is a cheat day when your girlfriend always leaves you with her unfinished food.”

I click my tongue and reach out to land a wet slap on his bicep. He grins at me and closes his eyes to wash out the shampoo on his hair. Finishing up my rinse, I get out of the shower before him and dry myself. I have to change into a new set of nightwear and when I am dressed, I snuggle back into bed, waiting for Toji.

He takes a while so I try to stay up. But when I hear the hairdryer going off, I decide that I can always spend time with him in the morning before the brunch, since he is staying over.

I am already half-asleep when Toji finally crawls into bed and cuddles me, bringing me closer to him. I wonder if I had been dreaming when he murmured in my ear, “I’m going to talk to your dad about us, baby.”

At brunch the next day, I am sat next to Toji, both of us across the table from my parents. He takes care of me the entire time like he always does, even going to the extent of cutting up my waffles for me while he talks to my father.

“You’re spoiling her, Toji,” my dad finally comments as he watches his best friend cutting up my food for me. “She’s not a baby, you know.”

My father glances at me but I merely shrug at him and grin up at Toji. “I like being spoiled.”

“Of course you do,” my father quips.

Toji makes one last cut of my waffle and sets the cutlery down. I thank him and start eating. As he reaches out to have a sip of his wine, he leans back in his chair comfortably to address my father.

“Do you think it’s weird that I spoil her?”

My dad laughs as he reaches for his wine glass too. “Not weird. But definitely bad.”

But Toji is serious as he continues, “Then do you think it’s weird if I say I want to take care of her?”

My father pauses for a moment. He looks at me looking lost and uncomfortable at where this conversation is headed, then glances at his similarly confused wife, and finally back at Toji.

“No… You’ve always been taking care of her even when she was younger.”

“I mean as a man.”

The man across him frowns and leans forward to put his wine down. “You mean… like…” My father is at a loss for words.

Even I am, too. All of us are just gaping stupidly at Toji now, waiting for some sort of explanation, or even him laughing to tell us he is joking. But he only clears his throat and sits with his elbows on his arm rests, his hands resting on his torso with his fingers interlocked.

“Like I want to commit my life to her.”

<< Part 1 🔞, Part 2 🔞, Part 3 🔞 || Epilogue 🔞 >>

#toji fushiguro #toji #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk x oc #jujutsu kaisen fic #fushiguro toji #toji x reader smut #smut #jjk smut #toji x y/n #toji x oc #jjk toji #toji smut #uncle toji

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violetflowerswrites · 6 months ago

Text

I’ll Be Here

Summary: After a traumatic injury, your SWAT roommate turned boyfriend (?) Jim Street strives to take care of you, and meet all of your needs.

Pairing: Jim Street x (Female) Reader

Disclaimer: Minor mentions of leg injury, meds, and recovery with wheelchair, casts, and crutches. Reader has a protective older sister. One scene of nightmares, mentions of trauma. Discussion of child abuse, drug use, drunkenness, in Street’s family history. Filthy Smut. Oral sex (female receiving). Consensual P in V sex. 18+ for explicit smut, and language

Word Count: 4.0k

A/N: I felt like there needed to be one more epilogue / ending to this Street x Roommate fic series. It picks up directly after the ending of Part Two (Taking it Slow). I got a little caught up fleshing out her backstory and recovery journey, but there’s a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, and quite a bit of smut. I added some details from Season 4, Ep 2 as well. It’s a slower paced story than what I normally like, but I still had a fun hell of time writing it. Enjoy!

Part One Here - “Too Complicated”

Part Two Here - “Taking It Slow”

Masterlist Here

…

The click of the door makes the two of you startle, and quickly.

“Commander Hicks is gonna put you on armory duty for a week for pulling a stunt like that.”

“Hey, Tan.” Street smiles at his teammate’s lack of greeting. Classic Tan — a bit of hard-ass, but always means well. “Hicks already chewed my ear off on the phone earlier.”

“Figured. I just wanted to come down, see how my friend’s sister was doing. I already briefed her on what happened. She’s on her way back from a case up in Burbank.”

“Thank you, Victor.” You breathe out a sigh of relief.

Victor Tan was co-workers with your older sister back from his days in LAPD’s Hollywood Vice division. When you decided to move to LA, she figured you being roommates with a SWAT officer was the safest place you could be.

But the world is a dangerous place, even if you live with Jim Street, LAPD SWAT.

Victor looks you up and down, noticing that besides being a little pale, and having a massive cast on your leg, you don’t seem to be in pain.

Then, he notices the way that Street is standing— body turned to yours, hand hovering on the bedside protectively, as if he wanted to hold your hand at any given moment.

“Hold on, don’t tell me you two are a thing now.”

A hot flush creeps up your skin and you and Street immediately stumble over your responses.

“We were trying to take it slow—“

“and not make things too complicated…”

“but then this happened so…”

“We don't really know what we are, but I do know that I am so so grateful for you Victor. You and Street helped save my life.”

You end your rush of words with a watery smile, emotion cracking your voice.

Tan looks down sheepishly, immediately trying to be casual about it.

“Nah, Y/N. It was the tourniquet you made that probably saved your life. You gave us a big scare today, but I am glad to see you’re okay.”

“That makes 3 of us.”

A petite, fierce-looking female cop stands in the doorway of the hospital room, her hand sweeping back some stray hairs that fell out of her tight bun in her rush to get to you.

…

Your bad-ass cop sister stays over for a week while you recover, watching Street like a hawk. You’re so hopped up on pain-killers that you barely notice the tension between them.

Street on the other hand, feels like he’s being evaluated in some test he didn’t train for. He couldn’t take time off, so he’s eager to see you whenever he gets home. But most of the time, your sister is hovering over you, helping you adjust to moving around in the wheelchair, and making sure you are eating your meals and taking all your meds correctly.

One late evening while you’re supposed to be sleeping, you overhear your sister confront him.

“So. When were you gonna tell me you’re fucking my sister?”

Street spits out the beer he just took a sip of. He’s barely exchanged more than a few sentences to your sister, and that was when she helped you move in a few months ago.

“Uh…”

“I see the way you look at her. I’m pretty sure I warned you that this arrangement was solely to keep her safe while living in this neighborhood. Didn’t expect you guys to fuck so quickly.”

Damn. Your sister is known to be blunt, but this is next level. You remembered how she reacted when your dick-head of a college ex-boyfriend broke your heart. He was sorry to have ever known you after that.

“About that…” Street starts, but gets cut off with a raised palm in his face.

“Before you say anything, I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She hasn’t told me yet, but I know. She’s down bad for you, Street.”

You automatically pull your covers up in embarrassment, hearing your sister lay all your feelings out in the open like that. She’s right though, you’ve fallen hard for him and it’s not just because he saved your life a week ago.

It’s because he's an empathetic listener to your rants about work, LA traffic, anything.

It’s the way he notices the small things, like when you're stress baking, or when you have your shoulders hunched up in frustration at the kitchen counter.

It’s how he gently pries your closed off doors open, helping you heal from your past.

It’s how he loves you, in such a sweet, gentle way that only he can.

“So you have 2 days before I go back to Vice to show me that you can take care of her.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Well, I don’t want to, but we’re about to make a big drug bust and my team needs me. Y/N is strong. She can take care of herself, but I worry about her. Her surgery was intense, and it’s gonna be a long recovery. I was gonna have her live with me for a few months, but I don’t think she wants to be away from you.”

“Thank you.” Street lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He may be a big bad SWAT officer, but your 5 foot nothing of a cop sister scared the shit out of him.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

…

That weekend, you get the full princess treatment from Street. He helps train your upper body strength to be able to lift yourself on and off your wheelchair. He takes you to the park to get some sun, and makes sure the entire house is wheelchair friendly so you can move around independently. He rearranges the fridge and pantry so that your favorite foods are all easily reachable from your lower height. He even meal-preps some home-cooked lunches to have while you go back to work on Monday.

Working with your sister, he re-arranges his schedule so he can drive you to the office in the morning and your sister can take you home.

On Sunday evening, you read out a long string of dates as Street writes all your upcoming appointments on the fridge-calendar and your sister says which ones she can take you to, and which ones she needs Street to help drive you.

“Well…fuck.” Your sister swears, which only happens when she’s particularly exasperated.

”What? What’s wrong?” You look up from your laptop with your Google calendar open.

“Y/N, I didn’t wanna admit it, but you got a good one here.”

An ear-splitting grin spreads across Street’s face as he realizes what she means.

You obviously told your sister that you overheard Friday night’s conversation, and all of what’s been going on between you and Street…minus the mind-blowing sex.

“He passed?” You ask eagerly, hopeful stars in your eyes.

“He never had to pass anything in the first place, Y/N. If you chose him, that’s all the approval I needed to know. I trust you. I was just giving him a hard time, because I love you.”

You burst out laughing while Street spits out a flabbergasted “The hell did I try so hard for?!”

“That’s what big sisters are for. Y/N deserves all the princess treatment she can get. We put our lives on the line every day, but she doesn’t normally have to. She’s gonna need you, Street.”

Street places a reassuring hand on your sisters’ shoulder.

“I’ll be here.”

…

Street lives up his promise, taking care of you through some of the worst physical and emotional pain you’ve ever been in.

He’s there at your physical therapy appointments, making sure you’re practicing the exercises at home even when you just want to lie down from exhaustion.

He’s there holding your hand even though you squeeze him until his fingers go numb. It hurts him to see your face contort with unexpected pain when the meds wear off and you try putting some weight on your leg for the first time in weeks.

He’s there when the trauma sets in. He notices when you’re on the couch in the evenings, the TV on, but you’re not really watching. He holds you tightly while you wake up in the middle of night crying, reliving the moment you almost died.

He’s there through it all.

…

“How do you deal with it?”

You’re sitting upright in bed, the soft yellow glow of the bedside lamp warming the darkness of the middle of the night.

“Deal with what?”

Street’s sitting next to you, holding your hand while your sweat-soaked forehead leans against his shoulder, your racing heartbeat finally slowing down.

Your breath draws in and out in a steady rhythm as you calm yourself from your latest nightmare with his comforting presence.

Street ran into your room when he heard you. That’s been the third night in a row that you’ve woken up to the sound of your own screaming.

“Deal with trauma. Not the physical pain, but those horrible moments that just keep flashing before your eyes every time you close them.”

“Well, I’ve been dealing with trauma my whole life I guess.”

Street has already talked to you about growing up in the foster system, because his dad was a drunk. You knew that his mom was in jail for killing him, but Street didn’t go into details. You knew as much as he hated talking about his past, he hated talking about his complicated relationship with his mom even more.

“Last week, we were surveilling a house, trying to get someone for the CIA, and I saw a kid. A little boy, covered in bruises on his back porch. He looked so alone, and so scared.”

“What happened?”

“I got into it with Hondo a bit, almost compromised the mission because I wanted to get him out of that abusive home.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. But it brought back a lot of memories, and none of them good.”

It was your turn to comfort Street as you could hear his breath come in shudders as he thought back to his rough childhood.

“Have I ever told you that my earliest memory of kindergarten was my mom putting makeup on my chin to cover up my dad’s crappy weekend?”

“No.” The word comes out in a saddened whisper. “You’ve never told me that one before.”

“Well, it’s not something that comes up in casual conversation. And I’ve tried a lot of things to make sure I never have to mention those moments.”

“What kinds of things?”

Street lets out a wry chuckle.

“What haven’t I tried? Drugs, alcohol. Thrill seeking. Street racing. Driving way past the speed limit.”

“You still do that one.”

Street laughs genuinely now. “Yeah, but not where I’ll get caught by cops.”

“You are a cop!”

He chuckles again, but quiets down into contemplative silence.

“For many years, I just poured myself into my job. Climbing the ladder until I could make something of myself. Run away as far as I could from that childhood me. The one with the drunk dad, jailed mom. The helpless foster kid.”

“It didn’t help, did it?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then, how did you heal?”

Street looks down at you now, his heart breaking to see tears streaming down your face. He’s certain those are empathetic tears, tears for his hardships. His rough childhood. Pangs of guilt wash over him.

He doesn’t deserve your tears.

Then, he sees the way you’re looking at him. The way you’re holding him in a bone-crushing embrace. Well, as tightly as you could possibly hold all of his heavily-muscled torso.

So, he sucks in a grounding breath and reminds himself that you’re crying because you care about him. Because you love him.

And it’s okay to accept your love.

Street caresses your cheek with a strong hand, and thumbs off a few of your tears.

“I’m still healing. But when those moments come, I’ve learned that it helps to talk about it.”

All those late-night bike rides down the California coastline could never truly help him escape from his problems.

He thinks back to all the people in his life who’ve helped him open up. Who’ve confronted him on his bullshit and made him stop running away.

Hondo and Buck.

Chris, Deacon, Tan, and Luca.

Even his ex-girlfriend, Molly Hicks.

As much as he hates to admit it, putting his trauma out in the open was better than keeping it in.

Your hand in his starts trembling and that small movement pulls him out of his thoughts.

“What if I’m not ready to talk yet?” You choke, as if you could barely get the words out.

“Then I’ll be here waiting until you are.”

…

Weeks pass in a whirlwind of work, doctors’ appointments, and recovery exercises at home. Eventually, the nightmares subside, and you start seeing a therapist to help you work through the trauma.

You graduate from the wheelchair and giant full-length cast to a bootie on your calf and ankle. The hardwood floor is littered with little dents from the first few days you learned to hobble around on crutches, but you get the hang of it quickly.

Both Street and your sister feel much more at ease leaving you at home alone, knowing that you can take care of yourself more easily now.

Except today.

Because your idiot brain put the crutches by the bathroom door instead of next to the towel rack.

And here you are, butt-naked in the shower, the floor wet and a slipping hazard, and 6 feet away from independence.

Just as you debate bear-crawling across the cold tile to grab your crutches, you hear the front door open and close.

“Street!” You call out.

Heavy footsteps rush over to the bathroom and skid to a stop as Street quickly leans his head against the door and asks urgently, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine! I just left the crutches by the door and I can’t reach them. Can you help me get out of the shower?”

Street breathes out a sigh of relief. Ever since the accident, he finds himself panicking easily about any situation that has to do with you getting hurt.

“Of course. I’m coming in.”

You’ve managed to dry yourself off, wrap your body in a fluffy white towel, and sit on the edge of the tub.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Street how your damp hair clings to your skin, flushed from the hot water. Lavender-scented steam hits him in a rush as he opens the door, a familiar smell to him. You love lavender shampoo, soaps, lotions, candles, anything.

He scoops you up gently, trying not to think about the last time he carried you like this was when you were bloodied, unconscious, and barely alive.

A small moan draws him out of his head immediately.

Not a moan of pain.

A moan of lust.

What?

Street freezes and gently places you on the bathroom counter, carefully holding your injured leg against his hip.

His eyes dart across your flustered face as you realize just what kind of inadvertent sound escaped your lips as soon as you were in Street’s strong arms, and you inhaled the familiar leather of his bike jacket.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Street kisses you breathless and pulls your towel down, inhaling your damp skin and that damned lavender soap that is making him dizzy with lust.

Water drips from the ends of your hair down your body, and Street licks up the river trailing from your shoulder, down the swell of your breasts, all the way to your core.

He pulls you to the edge as he kneels down in front of you. Ever-conscious of your injury, he lifts your hurt leg onto his shoulder, which only serves to widen your thighs, giving him full access.

Your knuckles tighten against the counter and your moans bounce off the tiled walls the second he licks your dripping pussy.

Street is a master at oral and it’s been weeks since you’ve had the pleasure of being his pupil.

His tongue dives first into your center, stretching your hot, leaking core. Then his lips find your clit, sucking it in gently, until the nerve endings in the sensitive nub light your body up with pleasure.

Before you have a moment to recover, his fingers find your entrance and enter with ease. Your slick gushes out, dripping onto the towel as he thrusts two fingers in and out. His knuckles curl up, searching for the spongy spot that he knows will drive you absolutely wild.

Filthy sounds of wetness fill the bathroom as he eats you out and fingers your clenched center, once, twice, three times.

Before long, his moans mix with your own as you voice your pleasure, cumming on his face in moments.

“Keep going.”

Street freezes at the first words you’ve uttered since he kissed you. It was an impulse, a lack of self-control that got him to this point in the first place.

It was seeing you nearly naked, with that damned lavender filling his nostrils that drove him crazy.

But he was going to stop. It was enough to get you off.

”I’m not done yet, Street.” You demand arrogantly, and look pointedly at the hard erection pushing against his dark-blue jeans.

“But—“

“I’ll be fine. Just hold my leg up and fuck me.”

You pull him up by the collar of his leather jacket, and kiss him roughly, panting in his ear as you lick and suckle the skin of his cheek, his neck, the underside of his jaw.

It’s been too long since you’ve had his body, his touch, his cock. You crave him with a hunger you’ve never known before.

And now that you’ve had a taste, every cell in your being is vibrating with one simple word.

More.

Needing no other encouragement, Street strips off his jacket only for you to take it and pull it over your bare shoulders.

The sight of you, fully naked except for his jacket, makes him suck in a breath.

His eyes darken immediately and he can hear his heart beat in double time.

You make him go feral.

It takes no time at all for him to rid himself of his remaining clothing, and line himself up with your pink entrance.

“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” Street asks, still hesitant, even as the pre-cum of his throbbing member mixes with your juices.

“Yes.” You affirm breathlessly, feeling the round tip of his hard cock start to breach your center.

“You’ll stop me if you can’t handle it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure about this, Y/N?”

“Yes! Street, fill me with your cock already!”

He blushes at your filthy words, feeling the heel of your good leg dig into the small of his back, trying to draw him into your waiting core.

You finally feel him push through the tight circle of your center. You’re especially tight, having not had sex since the accident over a month ago.

Street lets out a growl as he feels your pussy gripping him, struggling to push in deeper.

But instead of pain, you only feel pleasure.

“Fuck—! That feels incredible. Go deeper, Street. Please!” You beg him, desperate for more.

He grabs your thighs, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pulls you towards his pelvis. You can feel his cock thrust to the end, finally completely filling you with all of him.

You throw your arms around his waist, breathing heavily as the heady lavender steam only serves to make the two of you even more sex-drunk.

You hear Street suck in another deep breath before he pulls out, and slowly inches his way back into you, experimenting with how fast he should go.

How much you can handle.

But the slower pace feels heavenly to your hot, needy core. His cock stretches every part of you, pressing against your spongy center, all the way to your cervix as he thrusts down to the hilt once more.

”How’s that, Y/N? Does it hurt?” Street checks in with you again, a vein popping out of his neck as he strains to maintain his self-control. All his cock wants is to fuck you with total abandon, but he refuses to put himself first.

Your voice comes out in a stream of incoherent whimpers as you wordlessly express just how good it feels to be filled by him.

So Street cups the back of your ass, and presses you flush against him, and you cry out, feeling him impossibly deep inside.

“Oh my god! Street!”

“I’m just getting started.” He grins, licking the side of your neck as he starts to roll his hips into you.

You feel his cock slip out just a few inches only to thrust back in as far as it can go, over and over.

As you look down, you are blessed with the magnificent sight of Street’s abs clenching with every sensual roll of his body against yours.

Every slight motion pushes you to the brink of orgasm, your body almost unable to handle all the stimulation after having only known pain and discomfort for the past several weeks.

Impulsively, you bite down on Street’s shoulder, trying to expend all the pleasure you’re feeling somewhere else, muffling your moans against his muscled flesh.

“Shit! Are you biting me?” Street growls, incredulous, but also massively turned on.

“Does it hurt?” You grin mischievously, pulling his lower lip in between your teeth next.

“Yeah.”

“A good hurt, or bad hurt?”

“Good.” Another sharp inhale. “Fuck, I’m already close!”

Street’s body shudders as you feel his grip slide back to your hips, his slow thrusts giving way to a faster, more desperate rhythm.

You nibble and nip the side of his neck, the bottom of his ear, as you feel just how hot his skin is under your tongue and lips.

Another loud moan is wrenched from your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. His cock satisfies your body in a way you can’t describe.

You can’t wait any longer.

“Cum for me.” You whisper into his ear, demanding his obedience. His brow furrows as he tries to delay his incoming orgasm, and you kiss it, giggling as you watch him come undone by your body.

Street pushes his cock into you, your wetness making the movement easy, but your tightness gripping him like he is never supposed to separate from you again.

You lock your fingers behind the small of his back, pulling him in and clenching down until you feel his cock spurt out jets of hot cum into your core.

Street grits his teeth and heaves out the sexiest, most overstimulated moan you’ve ever heard from any man.

Your own orgasm follows right behind his, your entire being vibrating with pleasure, wetness repeatedly gushing around his cock. Your pussy stutters, muscles spasming as it tries to recover from the best sex you’ve ever had, with the biggest cock you’ve ever had.

With the most loving, caring man you’ve ever had. Your heart fills with love and contentment at the moment the two of you just shared.

This is what sex should be like - intimacy, pleasure, love.

It is truly something else.

“Y/N?” Street murmurs against your damp shoulder, slowly regaining some semblance of control and coherent thoughts.

“Mmm?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“I never want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You find the rough skin of his jaw and pry him off your body, and instead, pull his face towards you, your forehead pressing against his. As you lock eyes with the emotional gaze of your lover, you notice that he’s a little teary, and your heart melts for him even more. Jim Street. The love of your life.

“I know.”

…

#jim street x reader #Jim Street #swat #swat fic #swat smut #swat cbs #cbs swat #jim street fic #Jim street smut #jim street imagine #street x reader

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satorusugurugurl · 4 months ago

Text

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Eleven)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,764

Warning: angsty, softness, fluff, language, mentions of illness

A/N: i’m sorry sorry for the delay!! I had a really terrible stomach virus and I was sleeping it off! Lol woke up with my laptop on my bed while trying to edit! Just one last part, and it's just going to be a final chapter no epilogue! Then I’m going to finish Single Dad Club and LSIAH! Ah!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Why the fuck was he doing this? Why was he letting you go? I didn’t feel right; it made his stomach sick. The way your face twisted with pain and confusion when he brought you to the airport almost destroyed him. But he knew he didn’t tell you to go. It was okay. You would never get to Europe.

It didn’t matter if he hated it. As long as you were happy, that was the only thing he cared about. And you said you wanted to stay with him in Okinawa while he finished his work. He knew how much this cottage meant to you. But he also knew how devoted you were to being there for and helping him.

So it was time for him to show you how devoted he was to you.

This will hurt; it will hurt like hell, watching you leave through security. But as long as you were happy. Nothing else mattered. That pain would go through a throbbing stabbing sensation through his heart, which would turn into a more numbing tingling sensation like when his hand would fall asleep. And this wasn’t goodbye forever. It is more like an ‘I’ll see you soon.’

The way you looked up at him with tears welling in your eyes, he released his resolve and begged you to stay. If he were to do that, though, you wouldn’t get on that plane. You would have to wait another two years before you’re given an opportunity to stay at your cottage again. So he would let you go even though he didn’t want to.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“And I love you more than you’ll ever know. But you have to go and see your muse.”

You were his everything, so he had to let you go regardless of how bad it hurt. “Suguru.” Suguru smiled sadly, watching as you tried to find the words. “I-I—" he added, bringing you closer to his face. The words weren't there, but he knew what you were trying to say.

“I know, Princess. I love you too.” He pulled you in and kissed you deeply; he heard you choke on a sob before your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

This kiss had to be the Suguru’s favorite kiss you’d ever shared. Everything he felt for you was put into the kiss. How he'd fallen in love with you, how thankful he was to have you there to help him heal, and how much he would miss you. It hurt so fucking bad to be saying goodbye. But everything was going to be okay. Suguru groaned as he felt you deepen the kiss; your grip on him tightened; you didn't want to let go, to say goodbye just yet.

However, Suguru pulled away first; if he let that kiss continue, it would end up with him begging you to stay. Contradicting everything he had told you up to this point. He pressed his forehead against yours and stared into your eyes with the softest gaze.

“You need to go. Utahime has everything for you. Text me, please. I want a tour of that little cottage the second you get inside. I want to see that smile on your face. I want you to be happy.”

“Hey, love birds, can we get a move on? We still have paperwork to sign, and I can’t do that here at the security checkpoint.” Utahime interrupted Suguru’s goodbye, which was for the best because he might have said screw the cottage, screw you leaving, and begged you to stay with him.

With a sigh, Suguru nodded as he helped put your backpack on. “Iori is right; you got stuff to do before your flight. Text me!” Watching Utahime pull you to the line, watching you look back at him, made his stomach feel like it was being twisted into a present. Suguru couldn’t believe he was standing there watching you walk away, watching you disappear down the line towards security, but he didn’t show it. He put on a soft grand or shield every time you looked back at him

He stayed in that same spot, watching you slip away with each step closer to the security checkpoint. Only when he could no longer see the top of your head did he finally peel his eyes away from you? Turning away from you was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.

The tip of his nose began to burn along with his eyes. Tears started to swell up as he took a step forward, increasing the distance between you both. The distance would continue to grow until you were thousands of miles away. The distance might be daunting to other couples, but as long as Suguru had you in his heart, no distance would be too far.

Everything would be okay, even if it felt like the end of the world. Suguru knew this was only temporary, even though he told himself it didn’t lessen the pain.

Suguru mumbled as pain settled in his heart and stomach as he made his way through the growing crowd of the airport. God, he wished he could hear you say you loved him just one more time before you left. He would do anything, literally anything, to kiss you. To hold you tight, smell your perfume, and hear your voice in person.

“Suguru!!”

The sweet sound of your voice flooded his ears, even through the buzzing sounds of the airport. Rolling around, he watched as you shoved through the line of other travelers. You stumbled, nearly falling before you managed to catch yourself before straightening up and bounding forward. You were chasing him down like you were in one of those romance movies. Seeing you running forward, barely avoiding other people, Suguru ran towards you.

There was a certain relief in watching Suguru whirl around, eyes wide, as you called his name out. God, he could’ve cried when you watched him start running back towards you, bumping into people as if reaching you is the Aunt to poison wrecking through his body. That action, the look in his eyes, and how he moved as fast as he could only assure you that you were right about him.

“What are you doing?!” he questioned, running the remaining distance between you. “Did you forget something?”

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down, kissing him as hard and as deep as you could. Suguru stumbled back, going wide as he tried to process what was happening. That shot covers slowly faded as your lips feverishly against his, your hands fisting his shirt, pulling him down tighter against your height. Your boyfriend growled, his hands grabbing the sides of your face as he kissed you back with as much passion

There were no other people in the airport. You were the only two people in the country, even the world. Had stopped with the second her lips remained still when you slowly pulled away. Suguru, his forehead melting into your body as you press the palms of your hands firmly against his chest.

“You're wrong,” you whispered gently, pressing another kiss against his lips.

“I’m wrong?” his eyes focusing on yours that glittered with unshed tears, “about what?”

“The cottage being my muse, sure, was the cottage initially. It inspired my book and helped me form the story. But honestly, the cottage hasn’t been my use for a very long time.”

Your boyfriend sighs softly, eyes widening as you speak. “It hasn't?” You shook your head, leaving Suguru with more questions than answers. “So the cottage isn’t your muse?”

“No.”

“Okay, then, what’s been the source of your inspiration?”

You giggle, nestling your forehead against his. “It isn’t a what Sugu.”

“Uhm—okay then—”

“It’s you.”

He blinked, breath slipping through his lips. “W-What was that?” he wanted to make sure he had you correctly.

“You’re my muse, Suguru. You are my inspiration. Not some cottage in the middle of Europe. It’s you, my best friend, the man I fell in love with.” A relieved laugh sounded from your chest. “Suguru, it’s you, baby.”

“M-Me? It's me?”

“It’s been you so long. You helped me with research and inspired me. Fuck you’re literally Ilsan!” Tears of happiness flow down your cheeks like the words leaving your mouth. “It wasn’t the cottage that helped me with my writing. My writing has improved because of you!”

Suguru felt like his heart was in his throat. That cottage had been your everything in the beginning of your plotting and brainstorming. Your whole story was rooted in that place you had never stepped foot in, but you felt love for it. For you to tell him that the cottage, the place that had been your inspiration, was now his title, his honor, made him move without thinking.

Suguru grabbed your face as he slammed his lips against yours. He was pulling you into his chest, pinning you firmly against his body. His warmth wrapped around you, making you feel at ease, like you were at home. That was a feeling you’ve loved one you never wanted to lose.

You broke the kiss, panting heavily against his mouth, just for him to pull you back in for another. This time, you fisted your hands into his shirt tighter, holding yourself up as you tried to push yourself further against him to mold your body into his. Feeling that desperation in your touch only urged your boyfriend to kiss you harder and more profoundly, both of you seemingly forgetting that you weren’t in the comfort of your apartment, but we were in public.

The reality of the airport came back as you heard someone calling your name, but you refused to break the kiss, only deepening it. It wasn’t until there was a crashing sound near you that Suguru pried himself away from you. His tongue darted out to wet his red, swollen bottom lip as he glanced to the side. Following his lead, you turn to find Utahime. Picking up the suitcase that had fallen over while she adjusted the three bags she was struggling to carry.

“Oh fuck.” You cursed, rushing to help her with the bags. “Sorry Iori!”

Your agent gave you a look normally reserved for Gojo, which let you know she was furious. “A warning would have been nice, but no, you left me standing in line by myself with your bags. The last time I checked, I was your agent, not your maid.”

“Right, of course, I know that! I’m sorry, I just had to do something.” That special something chuckled from behind you, his hand gently massaging your shoulders.

“Uh-huh, well, now that you’re done doing,” she gestures to your boyfriend, “‘something’ we need to get going.”

Looking over your shoulder, you gave Suguru a gentle nod before looking back at Utahime. “Yeah, you’re right; we need to go.”

It was early afternoon as Suguru stood in the aquarium, looking at his progress with the mural. Paint coated his arms and face, and he glanced down at his phone to see if you had texted him at all. There had been no notifications or missed calls so far, and that just seemed to make him worry. He was just about to text himself when the plastic to the area he was working in rustled.

“I'm back!” Gojo announces, holding out a drink for his best friend. “And I brought you a drink because I alone am the best.”

“Yeah, you are.” Suguru snatched the bottle of green tea from his friend, chugging it down. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He pushed his sunglasses onto his head before landing at Suguru's progress. “It looks great so far.” The mural was getting close to being finished. All of the base colors and shading were done. The only thing Suguru had to finish was the small details and highlights.

“Yep, I think I just need another month to finish it. I’m gonna get this done way before the deadline.”

“Oh, for sure. Are ya’ going to take some pictures for your girlfriend?”

At the mention of you, Suguru huffed a sigh before nodding. He had been working just as hard as he had lately, finishing up the first draft of your book, and the stress from that alone was draining you. Noticing the silence, Satoru smacked his hand against Suguru’s back several times before helping him grab his stuff as he took some pictures.

“Hey, she’ll be okay, man.”

“I know.”

The warm summer breeze pushed Gojo and Geto forward, hurrying them back to the condo. Suguru constantly checked his phone for any calls. He knew you had been working hard, and you were exhausted lately. You needed to take better care of yourself even when he wasn't around. That worry had him all but running up the stairs to the condo, flinging open the door to find Shoko and Nanami sitting on the couch.

“Welcome back,” Shoko said, swirling her whiskey around in her glass while Nanami was focused on his laptop. Suguru hummed, heading into the kitchen and looking around. “What, no thanks? Some host you are.”

Suguru poked his head out from the corner, cocking a dark brow in his friend's direction. “You all come to spend a week with me, and I'm being a bad host for not saying hi?” He watched as she twirled some dark hair around her finger before taking another sip.

“Ignore him, Sho, he's just worried about you know who!” Satoru butted in, throwing his arm around Suguru’s shoulder as he watched his best friend wash off his arms.

“Of course, I’m worried about her; she's been pushing herself too hard.”

“Tch.”

The sound of Nanami scoffing had Sughrh shooting a glare in the blonde's direction. “What’s with that reaction?” Suguru looked between the two, and when they said nothing, he groaned. “Or ignore me like you have been.” Nanami’s eyes finally broke their connection with his laptop as he shut it, his honey-brown eyes darkening.

“You haven't realized what’s wrong with her? I'm not even near her, and I know what’s happening. All because you couldn't keep it in your pan—”

A door opened, and Suguru snapped his attention to it, finding Utahime leaving the bathroom. She slipped her phone into her pocket and adjusted her baseball cap. She didn't say anything as she grabbed Shoko’s hand, helping her stand.

“Let’s go out for a bit, Nanami, come with us. There's a cafe down the street I wanna try.” Gojo perked up at the mention of a cafe, rushing towards the group. “What the fuck do you want Gojo?”

“I wanna come! I heard they have great sweets!”

Suguru could see the vein throbbing in Utahime’s forehead from the kitchen and underneath the baseball cap. “Fine, you can come, but you’re paying since you decided to invite yourself!” Gojo laughed out loud, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You act like I’m not swimming in money.”

“And you wonder why people don’t like you.”

“Everyone loves me! Isn’t that right, Suguru? Come with us and tell me how much you love me being your best friend.”

Before Suguru could answer, which would be no, Utahime slammed the door to the condo open. “I didn't invite him to come with us!” Gojo winced, looking into the kitchen with a shrug of his shoulder.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t even want to go. I would rather shower and relax while catching up with my girlfriend.”

None of his friends said a word as they left the condo. He did, however, receive very nasty looks from Utahime and Nanami. Looks that sent a chill down his spine as he headed into the bedroom. Suguru had no clue why they were acting the way they were. They were treating him as if he had hurt you in any way, shape, or form, which he hadn’t. He had taken you to the airport and set up your flight to Europe. He wanted you to see your muse.

But you didn't want to go.

That day, he took you to the airport, and you had decided you wanted to stay with him. You had Utahime retract your offer, and luckily, since you hadn’t signed any of the forms, the cottage owners understood what had gone on. From their website, they had given you noticed that a young couple from Spain had rented out the cottage instead. You weren’t even upset about it; you were just hopeful they would be as happy as you were.

And you were happiest when you were by Suguru’s side.

Things have been great for you in the last month and a half. You were thriving as a couple, working on your projects at your own pace and helping each other out when you needed it, either with your research or when you needed help getting more paint. Life has been nothing but good to both until recently.

You have been feeling down and under the weather for the last week. Suguru thought it was due to the late nights and the anxiety you had due to you trying to finish the draft of your second novel. Suguru didn’t think anything of it at first. He assumed that it was just the stress and everything getting to you, but when you started throwing up two days ago, he began to worry.

He tapped his knuckles on the bathroom door. “Princess?” He asked with a frown. “Are you okay?”

From before the door, he heard you gasp before several boxes hit the floor. “Uhm! Yeah! Yeah, just a second!” Your tone wasn't all that convincing, so he knocked again.

“Look, I can hold your hair back if you're sick again. I don't mind.” When he heard you moan in embarrassment from the other side of the door, he slowly pushed it open, peeking his head inside. “That's like one of my duties as a boyfriend.”

Suguru had half expected you to sit on the ground, hugging the toilet like he had left you this morning. Instead, you had showered, and we were sitting on the edge of the tub, down on your bottom lip, picking your nails as you glanced up at him. The dark circles under your eyes were more prominent in the room's lighting. They made him want to do nothing more than throw your new laptop out the window and tell you to take a break.

“Sweetie,” he whispered, the tone of his voice enough to make your eyes water. “Oh baby, what’s the matter? What happened?”

You hiccuped, covering your face with your hands. “I-I’m sorry.” The tone of your voice was so broken, making your boyfriend rush forward, kneeling in front of his hand, gently rubbing at your knee.

“Baby, why are you sorry? You don’t have to apologize for working so hard.” When he gently rubbed circles on your knee, tears finally breached your eyes, rolling down your cheeks. “I know how important getting this done is. I think you need to take more breaks.”

God, why did he have to be so sweet and considerate? This would make what you had to tell him harder than it already was. Your hand it up, resting against the top of his own, your stomach twisted as you shook your head.

“I—It’s not that—”

Suguru's thick paint-stained fingers intertwined with yours. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”

Unfortunately, there was no easy way to tell him what was happening. So, without saying much, you picked up a box next to you and handed it to him. Suguru glanced at your face briefly before opening the box, letting its contents fall onto the closed toilet.

Several sticks, with pink lids, blue lids, and small strips, fell out. All of them had either a plus sign, two lines, or a smiley face in the center of them. He had seen them before; of course, he had it in movies and television shows, but the reality didn't seem to hit him indeed until he picked up one of the tests that said pregnant on a digital screen.

His dark eyes stared blankly at the tests, causing your anxiety to swarm like bees. He looked at each test and read the results before gulping. This was terrible, horrible; it couldn't be any worse. You felt as though you had failed him. You told him you had the IUD, which was an excellent contraceptive! But like all other birth controls, it wasn't one hundred percent accurate.

Your OBGYN had told you there was a one out of a one hundred chance of getting pregnant with an IUD, and you were that one percent. Maybe you should play the lottery.

“I’m sorry—I feel terrible; I’m sorry!” Your boyfriend said nothing. “Seriously, we have—options that we can look into; I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“B-Because I told you it was fine! And now I- I’m in this—”

Suguru cut you off by holding you tight against him. “You think I’m mad at you? Princess, I’m not mad at all.” Tears in his eyes, he shakes his head, a soft smile gracing his features. “Baby, this—” he stares at your stomach, “this is amazing.” You stare at him in shock, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears as you softly cry.

“You’re not mad?”

“Baby, no, princess, come here.” He gently pulled you into his lap, his arms snaking around you, holding you close. “I love you. I have always wanted to have children with you, and God, I want to marry you. It seems we’re just doing this a little bit out of order.” He planted kisses against your cheek as his hands gently rubbed up and down your back.

“Oh—” your voice cracks, “oh, that makes me feel so much better.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him tight against you. “We got this baby; no matter what happens, I’m gonna be by your side.” His hand slowly trailed over your lower stomach, rubbing it gently. “Both of your sides.”

It was funny to think that soft, gentle moment in the bathroom with a condo in Okinawa would be the first stepping stone to your future. A future that was full of doctor appointments, deadlines, and diapers. An amazing, bright, happy future Suguru had only dreamed about, one you never thought was possible. But you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Your boyfriend, scratch that, your husband, had stayed true to his word. He went to have a doctor's appointment, held your hand during your delivery, and worked twice as hard to provide for you and your daughter. He spoiled you both rotten. Never once did you yearn for anything because your best friend, since you were in grade school, made sure you had everything your heart desired.

Suguru couldn’t have been happier that your IUD had slipped. Sure, your pregnancy wasn’t planned, but he loved you and Kiko more than anything. And before he knew it, three years had passed. In those three years, you had finished your second novel, and we’re working on your third, and he gained popularity over his mural at the aquarium. His commission requests grew, and he was elated that he had an opportunity to provide between raising your daughter and working full-time, but time had a funny way of coming around full circle. It was late July, and Suguru looked up at the aquarium's water tanks. Different species of fish and whale sharks swam by as a tiny little hand gripped his tightly. Looking down at his dark-haired daughter, Suguru smiled as her eyes, the one feature she inherited from you, sparkled with amazement.

“Ooh! Daddy, look!” She called out, pointing to a giant whale shark. “Fishy!”

“That’s right, baby. You did so well listening to the tour.” You praised sweetly, shifting the baby carrier to your front, where your son peacefully slept.

In that moment, Suguru took a chance to take you in. You looked tired; you hadn't been sleeping well between taking care of Satoshi and working on your draft. Neither of you had been sleeping well. Suguru couldn’t even remember the last time you guys had a vacation with just the two of you.

He wanted to take you out to spoil your rotten just you. You both needed a little vacation. Plus, your parents begged you to drop the kids off with them for a weekend or two. So, it might be the perfect time to take advantage of that. He just needed to figure out where to go. While Suguru thought of different destinations to travel, he let Kiko drag him across the hall towards the wall, where his murals still stood.

“Mommy! Mommy look it’s Uwcle Toru!” Kiko shouted pointing to her uncle. “And Uwcle Nana, and my aunties!”

“Mhmm—and whose is that right there?” You whispered, stroking Satoshi's dark hair as you pointed towards you and Suguru.

“Mommy and Daddy!”

“That’s right, my sweet girl.”

Suguru crotched beside Kiko, pointing towards Riko with a sad, melancholy smile. “And who’s that baby?”

“Riko!” Your daughter proudly announced. “I’m named after her, Nanako and Mimiko!”

Suguru kissed his little sunshine’s temple as he glanced back up at the mural, which depicted both of you holding hands while you had a copy of your book in your other hand. He stared at the painting before lingering on the book in your hand, before his eyes slowly peered back at you. Looking at the painting, he suddenly knew exactly where he would take you.

You were smiling at your daughter before you felt his gaze lingering on you. “What?” You asked softly as Satoshi yawned.

“Oh, nothing, just admiring my pretty wife.” He lifted Kiko into his arms as the four of you headed out of the aquarium, returning to the hotel you were staying at. “And I was thinking we need to take a trip just the two of us.”

“Oh really? And just where do you plan on taking me?”

He glanced back to the wall, grinning wide. “It’s a surprise.”

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