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syluss-littlecrow · 8 months ago

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better than the devil

where you find out if Sylus really has horns, and why he avoids letting you touch them

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, size kink (i mean bro is PACKING), breeding kink, sylus’s horns are ✨sensitive✨, dirty talk, sexual tension, missionary, a fuck ton of horn play, horny horns, cumming untouched, orgams galore!, so much cum♡

w/c: 2.9K

a/n: gotta thank the loml @bro-atz for helping me with this a little ehehehe >:) I hope this destroyed yall as much as this destroyed me to write it!!🥹

They say he takes the form of some dragon-like creature—with large black horns and wings.

The first time you witnessed it with your own two eyes was when he choked out a serpent wanderer ten times his size before it got to you. You were semi-conscious at that point of time, the fatigue threatening to take over, but you had caught a glimpse of his silhouette—two thick appendages that curled proudly past his dirty silver hair, and large wings that hung off his back—before you blacked out.

“Staring at me isn’t going to get any of your curiosities satisfied”, Sylus snaps you out of your thoughts. Your gaze flickers to his face, but Sylus has his eyes on his phone.

Then his gaze shifts to you.

“What are you thinking about, sweetie?”

Of course, you couldn’t just tell him outright that you wanted to see him magically grow his horns out of his head. You doubt even Luke and Kieran have seen it themselves.

“Your horns.”

Sylus lowers his phone onto his lap, then he cocks an eyebrow, which turns to a furrow in seconds.

“What gave you the idea that I grew horns?” He asks, his tone laced with mock and caution. His attention is fully on you now.

Yeah, maybe that was not a good question to ask. Then again, being around someone as direct as Sylus had made you pick up his mannerisms quite a fair bit.

“Nothing really”, you brush off, attempting to derail the conversation before something goes wrong. “I’m just curious.”

“Talk”, Sylus demands, albeit in a soft tone. “I’m listening.”

His crimson eyes burn a hole into your head, and you now only realise the way he has you cornered on his couch, his large frame looming over yours.

You sigh, realising he’s not about to let it go anytime soon.

“A few weeks ago, during one of the battles we had, where I almost died-“

“Get to the point, sweetie”, Sylus cuts, seeing through your guise.

You pout. “Right. Before I blacked out, I saw you appear right in front of me, with horns.”

Sylus raises his eyebrows, seemingly in amusement. “You sure you weren’t hallucinating?”

He earns a smack on his chest. You’re ready to let him disprove you further or whatever, but your body jolts when you feel Sylus snake his arms around your waist before he carries you effortlessly off the corner of the couch and onto his lap.

You watch his eyes grow soft when he locks his gaze with yours. His expression is unreadable.

Your eyes widen in amazement when the thick pair of horns curl past his locks, the black a stark contrast with his white hair. He looks like he’s wearing bows in a funny, demonic type of way. Not that he has to know that.

You continue to stare at his horns, visually taking in the rough yet smooth texture and patterns that run downwards as the horns grow thicker towards the base.

“What are you really?” You wonder aloud, your fingers reaching out to feel the interesting texture of his horns, only for him to pull away quickly.

“It’s not the right time for you to know”, he replies curtly. You notice the glint of concern in his eyes, shrouded under the indifferent expression he wears.

So you decide to leave it for now, at least.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop you from annoying the ever-loving shit out of Sylus about his horns once you found out about it.

He would stare at you with his eyebrows furrowed, muttering that he should have never told you about his horns, only for you to bat your eyelashes at him, much to his annoyance.

“At least let me touch them if you’re not gonna tell me more about them”, you would whine. With a frown, he would push your forehead with a finger, giving you his standard answer.

"No."

“Then could you at least tell me why you won’t let me touch your horns?”

He would rest his thumb and index finger on his chin, feigning a thinking stance before his expression drops deadpan and then the curt answer leaves his lips.

“No.”

You’re putting this right next to when you were fighting for your life to get that fucking brooch months ago.

While the thought continues to eat into your curiosity, you mostly let Sylus off the hook after a while. For some reason, you’ve been noticing that Sylus has been walking around his mansion with his horns freely out. Maybe because he’s shown you his full horns once that’s why?

Or he’s just straight-up taunting you.

You feign nonchalance, only stealing glances at the thick appendage that stood out against his pale locks from time to time, but never really bringing it up to him, for now at least.

You hear the raindrops patter against the large windows of Sylus's room one afternoon. At least the heavy clouds are hiding the sun on top of the dark curtains drawn, and it makes Sylus's rest a little more comfortable.

He's sound asleep beside you on his bed, but you're seated up on your phone, the sound of the rain also slowly luring you to grow sleepy. You stretch a little, careful not to wake the male beside you. Sylus grunts softly, and you feel his hair tickle your thighs.

Through your peripherals, something catches your attention. The black on white is undoubtedly hard to miss.

Now that Sylus seems dead asleep, you're considering taking a chance to take a closer look at his horns, and maybe even touch them.

Carefully, you shift your weight closer to Sylus, monitoring his expressions and movements. When the coast is clear, you lean closer, staring at his horns with much amazement. It's a lot different now that you're this up close to admire them.

His horns aren't simply a simple shade of jet black–at different angles, you notice how the scales of his horns shimmer like an oil spill under the soft light. Close up, the base of his horns are thick, and as it extends, it curls, almost fully wrapping around his head.

“So pretty”, you mutter to yourself. Your fingers are reached out as if by instinct, barely inches away from touching his pretty crown.

You pause, weighing the risks of attempting to touch his horns. How fucked would you be if you actually did?

Your eyes scan Sylus’s calm sleeping face. He doesn't seem to have even noticed his horns have grown out.

“It’s just a little touch, he won't feel it anyways”, you convince yourself softly, your resolve firming as your curiosity begins to bubble over your rationale.

You let your fingers brush his horn, feeling the cold and scaly texture beneath your fingertips. Your eyes are sparkling in amazement even more, now that your curiosity has been satisfied. You press your fingertips onto the appendage, enjoying how nice and cool it feels to the touch.

Just then, you hear Sylus groan slightly. Your hand immediately retracts before you fully freeze, watching the way he presses his head against your leg, his eyebrows slightly scrunched before it returns back to relaxed.

Close call.

You obviously don’t learn your lesson, because your fingers are on his horns almost immediately once more. You grow more curious about the feeling of running your palm across his horns this round.

So you do.

Your hand starts from the thick base, and you stroke it, following the horn's curl, enjoying the way the texture of the scales run smooth under your palm.

And then Sylus makes a sound beneath you. You squint in curiosity, wondering if you heard it right.

So you run your hand from his tip to the base this time.

And this time, Sylus lets out another moan. You definitely did not hear wrong.

Your cheeks are slowly flushing when you realise what you're doing to him. But for some reason, it makes you want to do it more.

So this is why he doesn't want you touching his horns?

With a cheeky smile, you run your fingers along his horns in various ways and places, eliciting more pretty and erotic reactions from Sylus.

You giggle to yourself, trying to ignore how he's making you aroused with all the noises he's making with every stroke you give his horns.

You want to go for the next round, wondering how far you can take this.

Obviously not very far, because the next time you do, Sylus’s hand catches your wrist before you're about to touch his horns again.

He stares at you with half-lidded eyes, pink dusted on his cheeks and his breathing shallow.

“Are you having fun, kitten?” He asks with a frown.

Fuck.

You feign a smile, trying to wave your hand from his grip, of course, your attempts futile.

Sylus’s other arm curls around your thighs, locking you from leaving the bed while Sylus lets his sleep leave his body from the rude interruption.

“Denying me of satisfying my curiosity only makes it worse”, you shrug. Well, if only Sylus had just let you have a little touch…

The corner of Sylus’s lips pull up to a half smirk.

“Right”, Sylus replies, a hint of annoyance and something else laced in his tone before he shifts above you in one swift motion, trapping you underneath him on his bed.

“Then, I'm sure you don't have to be reminded that actions have consequences?”

You swallow hard.

His hand that grabbed yours is placed on his chest, and he forces you to trail down his body, feeling his thick chest, then his abs under your touch, all the way down until he stops you right on his thick erection.

“You should take responsibility, don't you think?” Sylus asks with a raised eyebrow.

You know it's pointless even attempt to escape when he’s devouring your lips like he hasn't eaten in days. It's so intoxicating. You would never admit your greed, but Sylus knows you well enough to feed you so good. You want to pull him so impossibly close.

In between breathless kisses, your warm hands trail from his biceps to his shoulders, to his neck, and right to his hair.

You test waters–letting your fingers rake through his hair, grazing the base of his horns. You get his green light when he doesn't swat you off, on the contrary, it makes Sylus grow more desperate in the kiss.

You confidently stroke his horn, from base to tip once more, and the moans that leave Sylus’s lips sound like fucking heaven.

His crimson eyes finally meet yours, and he almost looks like he's in pain.

“If you keep doing that–ngh–” Sylus trails off with another strained moan when the sensation of you stroking his horn buzzes right to his cock that he has shut his eyes to hold back.

“This?” you tease, sliding your palm down to his base once more, rubbing the scaly appendage, watching him failing at trying to keep his composure.

“Fuck”, he hisses, diving into your lips once more, eating you up.

He pulls away briefly, pressing his lips just below your ear.

“You’re gonna be taking responsibility, kitten.”

He presses himself close onto you, so close that you feel his cock just pulsing against your pelvis, only separated by his black sweats. Sylus takes your chin in his fingers and steals your breath away once more, uncontrollably grunting with every stroke your hands play with his horns. You feel his cock twitch, then pulse before the feeling of warmth spreads across your skin, accompanied by a long, drawn out moan in your mouth.

It makes you dizzy with bliss, realising what you've done to him.

Sylus pulls away once more, catching his breath, his eyes reflecting something more feral when you met his.

But all you do is flash a cheeky smile at him, letting your fingers caress his cheek.

His fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts and he yanks them off, almost growing feral for the second time when his eyes meet the sight of the way your pussy is glistening so much that a wet and thin string of arousal sticks itself in between your pussy and your soaked panties.

Well, Sylus is holding the short end of the stick anyway, because when he tugs his sweats down, your heartbeat accelerates as your eyes land on his cock–thick, red and completely covered in white and thick cum, some staining his underwear, twitching slightly with dribbles of cum seeping past his cockhead when the fabric brushes past his balls.

He looks so fucking delicious when he's messy like that. Shit.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, staring at me like that”, he teases. He doesn't even look embarrassed.

“Maybe I should play with your horns more often”, you reply with a smile. Sylus narrows his eyes at you, his expression mixed with annoyance and affection. His fingers press against your soaking clit, enjoying the way the smile on your face gets wiped, replaced with a contorted expression of pleasure when he rubs it in slow circles.

“I’m strongly against that idea, sweetie”, Sylus responds, leaning in to take in the expression of your mind slowly growing dumb and blank just from his slender fingers rubbing you out. “It’ll give you a little too much leverage over me.”

Through the hazy and building pleasure, you still manage to reply, “that's the whole point.”

Sylus only smiles at your reply, his fingers leaving your clit. You're about to protest, that is, until he grabs you by your hips, dragging you closer to him, then pressing your knees to your chest, before his wet cock slowly enters you from below. He watches your face contort in pleasure–your eyes rolling back and your eyebrows furrowed–while soaking in the fucking delicious feeling of your cunt warm and wrapped around his cock.

“S-so good”, you whimper, his fullness knocking out any ounce of breath and sense out of you at a dangerous pace the his cock inches even deeper into you.

“Such a nice and warm pussy hole”, Sylus grits, pushing himself even deeper, his control slipping when he's buried himself all the way in. “Fuck, you're so good for me, kitten.”

You're clawing his pillows when Sylus starts fucking you, and you're looking at Sylus with such a glazed out expression–and you know it drives him fucking crazy. His palm rests on the bulge that his cock is pushing every time he enters you, and it makes your thighs shake. Your moans grow in pitch and tone on top of the sounds of lewd wet skin slapping.

He lets you wrap your legs around his waist in return for letting him scatter love bites across your neck.

So you decide that it’s the perfect time to aim for his sensitive spots once more.

Your fingers tug against his scalp, then alternating to stroking his horns once more, throwing Sylus into another round of pleasured daze.

You feel his cock fill you up even more, and it makes you greedy to how far you can push it.

“I really should make you regret this”, Sylus mutters, failing to suppress another groan when your fingers scratch against the base.

His thrusts become more like ruts, his cockhead hitting your g-spot over and over as payback. Sylus sprouts a satisfied smirk as he watches you completely come undone on his cock. You throw your head back while stars flicker in and out of your vision. The pleasure is growing so fucking good that you're choking on your moans too.

“Right there! Fuck, that feels so fucking good, Sylus”, you sob through wet lashes and heavy pants.

Sylus is mesmerised by your pretty expressions and the pretty sounds you always make for him when he's breaking you apart.

Maybe you finding out about his sensitive horns is his punishment for indulging in these sick pleasures. Nonetheless, he still wouldn't have any other way.

Your hands find his horns once more, and he falters for a split second. But he doesn't shake you off since he's much too focused on trying to force an orgasm out of you.

Your pussy squeezes him before it starts uncontrollably fluttering against his cock. Ah, his goal is slowly being fulfilled.

As your orgasm dangles above you, you react with periodical squeezes on his cock and his horns, which definitely draws a much larger reaction from Sylus.

“So close”, you whine, your orgasm slowly filling the crevices of your brain, plunging you deep into pleasure. Your cunt clenches on his cock, and you unintentionally yank his horns.

Sylus fucking growls, pressing himself so fucking deep into you, his cum fucking spurting into you–so much that some is leaking out from your plugged pussy hole and onto the bed.

He pulls his cock out momentarily, letting his cum ooze from his cockhead, his eyes darting to the loads seeping out of your hole, before he slides his cock into you once more. You gasp at the fullness, another squeeze to his horns, which only stimulates Sylus once more, and his cock fills you up with another warm and sticky load.

He’s panting, but he musters his energy to meet your eyes.

“Sweetie”, he calls out to you amidst his dick attempting to take over his brain. “If you don't get your hands off, your pussy won't be able to hold anymore, I guarantee.”

He's met with a fucked-out and sly grin from his partner.

“And I thought you enjoyed challenges.”

Sylus scoffs at your comment, realising that he really has to teach his kitten a lesson to not touch things that aren't hers.

#love and deep space sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deep space smut #love and deepspace #lnds sylus #lnds smut #lnds x reader #l&ds sylus #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #sylus x you #sylus qin #sylusposting #sylus smut #sylus x reader #sylus #lads sylus #slyus #qin che

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uarmygguk · 1 month ago

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BACK TO YOU ⋆ 전정국

ıllı . . . . . TWIRL ME TWICE — i'll treat you like a holiday and don't say you're over me baby, it's too late ⨾༊

brief, you always seem to go back to him, what about now? starring, drummer!jk x rich f!reader tags/warnings, smut. mdni. dry humping, dirty talk, cursing, oral (m) receiving, slight degradation(?) not pronounced, oc is an entitled rich girl, and jungkook falls for her antics basically, but don't get it wrong— he craves it. usage of drums during intimate moments (he's a drummer and he's jungkook so cut me some slack HAHHA) nicknames, pov shifts (clearly mentioned), emotional push and pull, kind of slow burn, characters are messy in their own ways but everything ties together— if something is unclear, send me an ask/comment !, angst (sorry babies). word count, 6.7k love diaries music rec, "if you lie down with me" — lana del ray, "heartbreak warfare" — john mayer, the party & the after party — the weeknd note, this started as an idea from js a simple thought of mine, can't spoil rn cuz what's the fun in that,, loved writing this because i accidentally js spewed all my need for a slow burn BUT not so slow (iykyk) in here. i edited this so many times its not even funny how i hyperfixated. did i mention how obsessed i am with drummer!jk? yeah that's it.

────୨ৎ────

“1,2,3.. stop!” the man, in his mid-twenties and ginger hair, which is the only color he stuck to for about 4 months straight now, practically yells into his mic.

“Jungkook you actually have to lock in, mate. This is not doing you any good, y’know.”

“You can clearly see I’m fucking trying, Jimin. I told you I needed to step out like right now, we’ve been at this for hours.”

Jeon Jungkook. Lead drummer, easily a handsome lad who could be mistaken for a very successful celebrity. He’s got that aura, the charm to waddle into the hearts of numerous girls and guys alike, just like he does at those tiny desk concerts— the original miniature set-ups with a lot of sweaty bodies and headbanging.

The raw stuff. Pure music. Flatlining passion.

“ ‘kay just go take a drag or something, but remember, return back by 7. Or I’m actually going to go hunt for someone else with no hard feelings.” Jimin passes on a complacent grin to which Jungkook rolls his eyes, he knows the latter cannot evade the decade long friendship they shared, nonetheless.

Jungkook walks over to the wooden door of the cramped studio where the duo was practicing, and since this very day consisted of rumbled musings and adjusting tones of the new release because the other members of “Seom” haven’t shown up and Jimin could only get hold of his dear brother to pour sweat into the new album along with him.

“Seom”— island in Korean, grounded the boys to their Southern roots, and tied them to the strings of reverberating music, just like how water expands and ripples around an island. It was mostly Jimin’s idea, to which Jungkook agreed immediately as he wanted their essence to be a part of this whole game.

Ping.

Classic notification beep. The message is far from the “class”, however.

[shortcake] 5.57pm fuck you.

Oh he wishes. Start of the day so hellish all he wanted to do was be balls deep inside you.

He shifts, leaning against the tattered door frame, locking his phone, shutting out the cascade of profanities filling up in your chat. The blob of silence that followed seemed to dissolve into thin air as a puff of smoke hindered his obscure view of people bustling about through the narrow alley.

Utter contrast to where he met you for the first time.

Back to : 6 months ago.

Jungkook wisely controlled the awe-filled sounds that threatened to leave his mouth, while Jimin and Hyunjin on the other hand, straight up wow-ed at the dazzle of golden chandeliers, polite service of umpteen number of waiters and waitresses catering to every other person, cold air that refreshed the scorching heat outside this magnificent yacht as soon as their lot entered the foyer.

“We’re looking for Conference Room 3” Jungkook referred to his emails before making a request at the reception, tapping his fingers on the crafted marble desk and adjusting the instruments on his shoulders.

In the meantime he luckily notices Hyunjin slide to the left, initiating loose talk with the other receptionist, thus pulling him by the collar to the latter’s unpleasant surprise.

“I was just shootin a shot, okay?” His lack of understanding was not the mood, especially for today.

They must remain composed and professional until the band’s first official performance for a crowd with more than a 100 people came to a successful end.

There was barely time for aimless flirting and fun. This was the foremost opportunity to grab a place and set the stone for Seom.

Hundred, however, is more than a few for a birthday party. But what more could be expected from a full-fledged family of chaebols.

“We don’t have much time, but Kook, you need to brush up a few beats before the stage. I’ll go ahead with Hyun to get the set done by then.” Jimin unpacked his guitar set and signaled Hyunjin to follow him outside to the stage area.

Finally done setting up the drums and arranging the kit, Jungkook tests it for a few beats, before flipping through the music book for a brief second to make final touches.

Click.

The door unlocks and closes, assuming it’s Jimin and Hyunjin, he continues to maneuver the stick through the booming plates of the drum.

“Y’all back already? They set up the stage for us too or did something fancy?” He passes a casual joke, unbeknownst of the fact that you were on the receiving end.

“That was quite a faulty pun, Jungkook Jeon?”

You read off of the rear of his chair that had his name on it for identification.

Perched on a personalized chair paired with such a comment rolling out so smartly didn’t sound as cute to you.

His head whipped and almost cracked, turning around at the words that flowed so elegantly, as opposed to what he was expecting.

Hands folded against your chest, slightly bunching up the fabric of the baby pink satin body-con hugging your well-built figure, doing a bad job at leaving much to one’s imagination, especially with the thin straps as sleeves.

Composed. Professional. He reminded himself.

Having seen you during the meeting where Seom was selected to set sail and perform at your birthday bash, he deemed you as a handful when you chanted numerous details into your dad’s ears and when you disagreed with most of the proposals they had for the final track list. As mentioned, fancy was the alternate last name for the Choi family.

He could deal a handful.

Or so he thought.

The damn look in your eyes. It propelled him forward, leaving the wooden seat behind, walking towards you ever so slowly but steadily.

“Careful, pink princess. Your dress boutta get messed up, don’t want those personal butlers to curse at you.”

The corners of your lips twitch ever so testingly. As if a single smile could give it all away.

“Were you playing ‘Heartbreak Warfare’? Thought we finalized the track list accordingly.”

You briefly look around the dingy room with dim lights and concrete walls, unpainted— fit to be a green room, he watches you closely.

Fairly enough, it was an embarrassing accident you wouldn’t admit. The yacht was genuinely too sophisticated and you lost your way to the ladies’ room.

Coincidentally, you hear your favourite song being played live on the drums from a nearby room titled “Staff Only.” No one could stop you from entering anywhere around on the yacht your dad booked for the big day. 21st birthday bash. And you knew you had everyone wrapped around a pinky.

With him, though? You don’t know.

Don’t know why a look at his face, seconds ago screamed “Not today.”

His smirk yelling at your senses to keep your power to yourself.

And his unfiltered comment at the beginning? Perfect starter.

You, nonetheless, took pride in your ability to bring what you craved for, at your fucking feet. Only, this one would take a lot more solo effort.

Consider it done because— goddamn was he a man. Sleeveless tank-top hugging his miniature waist ever so tightly, projecting whatever toned muscle that hid beneath, tattoos twirling around his left arm.

“Lined up our songs for princess’ birthday while she shares pretty strawberry cake with her friends.”

He leans on the backrest of the chair, with his name printed across a piece of white paper, tainting your eyes with dripping taunt.

“Can’t wait to hear it.” You spit, but surely you wanted to explore their band and music.

“Would you give me some cake too, huh?” He slips the mockery in every fucking word with practiced ease, just like how he handles those drums.

“That doesn’t explain you playing ‘Heartbreak Warfare’.” You clawed at the previous question, ignoring the sly ask, genuinely curious as to why he chose that particular song minutes before an actual performance.

“Why, favorite?” He muses, flipping the book to a certain page yet again, positioning himself in front of the instrument.

“None of your business. Can you play it again?” Latter part of the sentence ever so feebly and hesitantly left your mouth as if it was tightly wound against your vocal chords, barely finding strength to be pushed out as a request.

A wish. One that you don’t know— for the first time— would be granted. Having everything served on a platter from Day 1, this is a new deal for you. The doubt, the anticipation felt confusing to say the least.

Seeing him steer through the papers and almost giving in to what you said, it seemed like a win.

Until it wasn’t.

“Afraid not, it’s my cue to be back on stage. That was my warmup song and I’m done.”

He sits forward, actions biting back on his words, as he looks least interested in hurrying to “be back on stage.”

“You’re literally performing for my party. It’s my crowd out there and they’d be forgiving if a drummer’s late.” Diving head first into this pointless banter was never on your agenda for today.

“Feeling entitled much?” He seemed calm, fidgeting around to pack up necessities.

“Says the one who’s owning that little wooden chair with his name on it like a throne.”

You were done. All restraints broke, a spiteful remark was nothing. None. Nada.

To your utter disbelief, it actually did nothing to him.

Jungkook finally got up from the damned chair, moving towards you and painfully looking into your eyes before gracing your ears with his raspy, raspy voice.

“Too bad, I do own my name. My own name. It’s my only throne.”

You weren’t stupid to miss the disdain laced stress on that particular word. Like he was throwing daggers at you.

Tongue poking behind the smooth walls of your cheek, you watch him fucking leave.

His resistance to you was instantly delicious.

Were you crazy for wanting him to be completely into you? Forget the back and forth and fall face first into the waters from a height to test your limits, when all you loved and have ever experienced was a cozy, elevating and classy cold plunge.

___

“Yeah, wine’ll do for today. You don’t wanna get too drunk.”

You nudge at Jessi, best friend, ride or die, whatever. Having known her since private kindergarten —the ones where a couple of selected children get tutored alone unlike the actual ones— she’s been a tad bit crazy, especially with alcohol and parties, as you grew up together.

“Why, you planning to get wasted and use me as your chauffeur because you can’t get your dad’s car sent?” She deadpanned, adjusting the MiuMiu purse that clung around perfectly on her honey skin.

“Spot on.” You squint your eyes at her, ridiculing, as you walk towards the venue.

“Look at herr!” Taehyung hoots in glee as you enter through the grand doors, starting a poor rendition of “It’s your birthday” as he pulls you by the hand, into the chaos.

Taehyung was the unavoidable guest at any party. He brings life with him, even if it mostly makes you question the invite.

“Guess what flavour of cake i got for your special dayy-“

Taehyung’s words blurred into the horizon as you were consumed by certain thoughts.

Kim Taehyung was no one distinct, just another man from your dad’s friends’ family who owned a bunch of inherited businesses like most of the people present in the party today.

Except the ones on stage.

The one, among them.

His name never left your mind, unusually so, because you don’t hold on.

Don’t build connections, never chain the beads of relationships with bare hands.

It always came with something.

But him?

A puzzling, faint secret.

Jeon Jungkook.

“Stop avoiding me just because I ordered strawberry shortcake, I wanted to give the new bakery a try too, now c’mon and clink clink bitch.” Tae was already tipsy and it was-

What did he just say?

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Kim fucking Taehyung. You literally took freedom for granted.” You shoot a sharp look at his red face, snapping back from the trance, but he just pouted in response.

“My bad I let you buy the damn cake, asshole.” You watch him pay no heed to you, going back to being an utmost social butterfly.

Everyone applause.

Birthdays were not supposed to be this humiliating.

“Lined up our songs for princess’ birthday while she shares strawberry cake with her friends.”

You recall Jungkook’s words and everything and beyond you want right now would be the ability to sink into the fucking ground.

Courtesy : Kim Taehyung because he literally made way for Jungkook’s assumptions to come to life.

He didn’t have to be so lively, y’know.

“I need another cake there, in 5 minutes.” You whisper to Jessi, but she didn’t seem to notice, eyes glued to the train of texts being exchanged with her boyfriend.

___

21 wasn’t supposed to be as humbling.

The 20 somethings were to be full of cruises through picturesque islands and a possible girls’ trip if Jessi was into it. She’d be, but you wanted it to be a bit more relentless and intriguing.

You wanted to explore.

Maybe your wish was granted— partly— earlier than you’d please.

“Seom” as you learnt from their introduction was nothing less than a fucking wave. One to explore. To indulge in, especially the lead drummer.

Even if you’d hesitate to admit, seeing Jungkook go all out on the drums, setting a bar so high and then hitting the lows before springing back up with just the taps of two sticks and a determined mind, he looked insane.

Sweat clinged onto his forehead, wispy stray hair falling to the sides and god the tank top.

One that didn’t go unnoticed by you during the backstage shenanigans.

The music ends with thunderous applause from the audience, and you see Jungkook reach for the mic from Jimin, clearing his throat into it before speaking.

“We really enjoyed performing here today, but there’s a special ending note I’d like to play.” He signals for the others to exit the stage, claiming it alone with undeniable presence, blasting a beat into the speakers with those damn skilled fingers.

He was playing the background score of “Heartbreak Warfare.”

You weren’t exactly subtle with the reactions, eyes widening as the tune grew familiar.

“He’s so fucking good at this,” Taehyung slurred from behind. “But missing only one thing.”

“— a grammy nomination.” The man looked so proud of his witticism.

His luck, you were too engrossed in how Jungkook completed the rendition with absolute perfection, doing justice to every single nuance of your favorite song.

“Do we have any of the strawberry cake left?” Your unhinged doubt in the middle of the performance— consuming the premise, and people— makes Jessi chuckle from behind.

“Weren’t you the one who made me go place an order for another one? We literally cut the chocolate cake I had to run last minute for, and this boy is damn upset.” She points at Tae, who was mindlessly chugging another shot of his alcohol, looking farthest from upset.

“___, we’re going to the dance floor now, c’mon” Taehyung started testing the material of your dress between his sloppy fingers, trying to grab your attention like a carefree kid.

“Can you ask them to send a piece over to Seom’s green room? Meet me at the dance floor after.” Running a hand through well-set hair, you look back again— eyes catching sight of his unrelenting drive towards music that almost topples you over on those fucking louboutins— before catching up with Taehyung’s jittery steps towards the party room next door.

Jessi was cent percent sure you were on to something.

Because, one piece of cake for 3— math wasn’t tallying up right.

And you taking personal interest to have it delivered?

Weird.

his pov.

The trio stands around the now droopy cold, untouched piece of sweet goodness dressed in baby pink icing, as if it was about to be convicted in court.

“Whoever sent it in, they could’ve packed three more.” Jimin sulks, as if more pieces somehow equals to finding whoever this anonymous confectioner is.

“But we’re only 3 people and one’s here already, dumbass.” Hyunjin analyses the situation as though satisfying their sweet tooth is the only problem here.

“An extra piece wouldn’t hurt you right?”

The trial about a damn piece of strawberry shortcake ceased abruptly, hanging over the edge through Jimin’s harmless remark.

However, someone in the room seems to have attained enlightenment— precisely not so— because he was praying, hoping to whatever higher power that it wouldn’t be what he thought it was.

The conclusion was inevitable.

“I’ll be back.” Lead drummer, guides his own way to the adjacent ballroom.

It wasn’t some sort of cinematic appearance— he didn’t enter in as the prince who aimed to claim his princess.

He was a walking mess. Like a literal strained bunch of bafflement.

At your fucking audacity.

Like you were mocking his service. His team’s hard work.

There was no way to sugarcoat it.

You were being an asshole.

And just like a rifle zeroes in on its target, Jungkook’s gaze pinpoints yours among the sea of people. He moves further, a mild hurry outlining his steps through a bunch of sweaty bodies mixed with the expensive scent, lingering on, making it easier to distinguish the crowd as ones from high-end families.

He remains aware of the surroundings— the lap of luxury sprawled out and highlighted each speck of dust around— even in the air.

Nevertheless, that was gotten rid of.

His presence of mind packs a suitcase and makes a bolt out of its abode, as soon as your eyes meet his.

As if an urgent sense of victory ziplined through, he watches you slowly bite your lip, trying to hide a smile.

Not the one that looked like a perfect crescent moon, one that radiates joy, though. Yours was synonymous to that of a fucking Cheshire Cat on a mission.

“Knew you’d come.” Your red glossy lips mouth, and he caught it amongst all.

Jungkook was furious, but he was dissolving.

It was as if an imaginary string connected the both of your bodies, the pull growing stronger by the minute.

Slow and steady, wins the race.

But his libido takes over, avoiding all the speed bumps.

And then he realized. As if it wasn’t so obvious.

He wanted you.

However, you didn’t have to know that.

___

If it was the Jungkook 30 minutes ago —who fired up from backstage to ballroom in less than 2 strides to catch hold of the fucking menace of a woman for trying to deride his performance— he would’ve laughed at the face of anyone who tried to tell him, that he was holding that very woman by the waist in the middle of a dance.

Breath.

“Your heels are about to punch a hole in my feet.” He shifts you forward so swiftly with one hand on your waist, legs finally coming alive again after 2 minutes of torturous dancing.

“Tryna hold you together, if you fall apart. I can distinguish between a good dancer and a bad one, y’know.”

“I’m gonna leave if you keep running that mouth of yours.” He whisper-yells into your ears, above the 165 bpm party music.

His jaw twitches at the reason he’s still anchored in the same spot.

Another request. One that took flight way easier than the previous one. Your pretty mouth asked for help.

“Don’t wanna look alone in my own party. Dance?” You had asked, peeking at his anger infused red eyes 30 minutes ago, through your angel-like lashes, which had him expressing distaste, but quickly securing him behind you.

Ass pressed up against his crotch, he knew you were testing his boundaries. He knew you were careful, measured, as your hands rhythmically made its way around his neck, adhering to the beat.

His hands still around the small of your back— unsure if it was to steady you or himself.

Minx.

His hands find solace in your swaying hips, pushing you forward, trying to maintain distance.

Because this was supposed to be a nice gesture. An act of goodwill so a girl won’t feel alone on her birthday.

Why the fuck was he sporting a semi?

“You’re enjoying this too much aren’t you, shortcake?”

This time, he didn’t have to push you away.

You sprang off, akin to how the like-poles of magnets repel.

“The fuck did you just call me?” You had to yell, some of the drunk dancers sending weird glances.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You pulled that act to-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You whisper, moving closer to his ears, dragging him out, swerving through to the common restroom.

____

your pov.

“What’s all this, __?” The sudden silence echoes his deep voice throughout the entire place, making you dizzy at its amplification as opposed to the hushed noises coming from outside.

“Huh?” You pant a little, looking up at him yet again with those eyes.

He hoists you up, cold marble coming in contact with your supple, exposed thighs making you wince in the faintest voice.

“What do you think you’re doing, ___?”

His face is dangerously close. Breaths colliding.

“You played it for me, Jungkook.”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re kidding me, shortcake.”

He jerks back, hands placed on the table, caging you in them but it wasn’t enough.

Jungkook’s head falls next to your shoulder, barely touching as his eyes remain closed throughout.

“There’s nothing I’m joking about here, Jungkook.”

He slightly looks up, still hesitant to catch your eyes.

“I think the fuck yes. You’ve been diminishing my presence the entire night, and that whole cake situation felt embarrassing, __. In front of my fucking bandmates, I felt like nothing.”

His head falls again, as if some inner beast caught his breath, sighing.

“I don’t see a reason for that.” You shrug, in genuine confusion this time.

“Yeah you wouldn’t. Because I made the mistake of agreeing to perform here, when Jimin and Hyunjin clearly had no reason to.”

“Is it ‘cause you owe my dad?” A sly smirk creeps up into your lips, as Jungkook finds it in himself again to look at you.

“Do I have a fucking choice?”

“You should’ve thought before wandering into our territory, asking for help.” You swing your legs, still on top of the restroom table like you’re on some play-date, enjoying ice cream on a sunny Saturday.

“I needed it for survival. Seom was falling apart, and we really required that sum of money. And oh, you’re talking about Mr. Choi, the ever so generous man, huh? Your dad has put me through it even if I was a minute late to pay him back each month.”

“I can help.”

You offer. Simple, cut through. It was always the simplest of suggestions that seemed like the end of the world.

“You? You’re holding on by a thread to your family, but except your thread— it’s made of money. Mine isn’t.”

“Bingo.”

Oh.

“Be with me for a month and I’ll help you relieve some stress. Know you need it. In return,”

You pause, meandering your vision to his, watching his expressions twist, lightly.

“I’ll tell dad about your situation.” This was your cue to pull him closer by the ends of his tank top.

“Best believe, you think I’d be on my knees, accepting your offer right now” He tears himself apart, now fully on two feet, the distance between your bodies increasing.

"Remember the name you own that you boasted about, back there? Don't forget about the price you have to pay my dad, to uphold it." Laid-back, pausing for a moment, you could feel the gears turning in his head, back facing your frame now.

“There’s only one exit, to every entrance.” You say, as he was headed for the door, coming down from the table, you had your hands folded, yet again.

Always the same.

The sound of his resolve snapping, was another alarming echo, as two worlds collided.

It was the answer to your proposal.

His lips taste like unadulterated need. Those roamed around yours, in a hurry, like a telltale of passion. He occasionally presses your foreheads together, taking as much as he wants before dipping in again.

There you knew.

This was about to turn into a constant cycle. An endless war against sanity.

You, him— one heated glance, two bodies meeting to fight it.

____

Present.

his pov.

It feels quite deranged to think about.

Approximately a year ago when Seom was in the trenches, Jungkook, unbeknownst to his bandmates, found himself in front of Choi Enterprises. Even though the sum he got from your dad was useful in a way, it was hell to pay off. He handled it all alone, and wanted it to be a secret deal.

He still remembers that day, where you sat in front of him, flaunting the information like it bothers you.

He still remembers the way you thanked him.

Two simple, simple words. The ones that were taught as basic manners in school, ones which are usually ignored.

Two words he never saw coming his way, even with years of hard work and struggle, living in small dorms and surviving off of convenience store food for a dream.

No one ever appreciated him, except the person who he least thought would.

“Thank you.”

It held the fucking weight of the world when you elicited it from your posh voice.

It took him here. Landed into this mutual succour, drove him into the heights of insanity, shared nights and whatever remnants of passion he had.

It's been six months and a few.

Yet here he is, still tangled up in need for you.

You asked him for a month, but that was just a feeble fabric to mask how you both just wanted to have a good fuck after everything going on in your lives, seeking whatever you missed.

However, Seom was on its success grind. After the storm of hardships, you did keep your promise. Continuous shows, a few sponsorships.

There were clear boundaries in this mad game of push and pull.

It always remained a casual fuck, right after his gigs or sometimes in the closed walls of your luxurious penthouse that he thought he’d never see.

Because, you were mostly travelling, going on trips with god knows who.

He finds himself concerned about your company to these getaways, more than you’d given him the right for.

He opens up his messaging app again, briefly glancing at the time before opening your chats.

Finally.

Three dots appear, leave for a minute— not to be mistaken— as it comes back again with a bang, bringing in hot trails of new messages.

It was as if you were waiting for him to see your previous string of profanities.

[shortcake] 6:10 pm Asshole, where the fuck are you? [shortcake] 6:10 pm It’s been a week, Jungkook. Send me your location or you know I have my ways.

[jungkook] 6:11 pm I’m at the studio. Come to my room, behind. You know it.

He wondered why you didn’t bother checking in for a week, and clearly popped out of nowhere.

It’s just a casual hook-up with a rich girl who helps, sometimes. Who’s a menace, mostly.

He reminds himself, yet again.

Reality is so fucked up.

___

your pov.

You barge into the small practice room, a sense of knowing wrapping around you, ‘cause you’ve fucked almost everywhere at this point. It’s filthy, but it somehow keeps you together.

There was not a living soul here.

Huh.

“Shortcake?”

Honey coated voice— the one you hadn't heard for almost a week— engulfs you, heating you up like molten lava.

You simply walk over, throwing your bag on his couch, now acting as if the entire place’s yours, before piercing on the stool behind the drums.

“Where were you?” He casually sets up the aircon, closing the door as if he knew what’d happen any moment from now.

“Not your business. But guess.” You extend your hands, flaunting a set of rings made of sea-shells.

“Maldives? You went on tour again?” He asks, placing your tender fingers on his, examining the rings before abruptly taking them off.

“The fuck are you doing?!” You round up, trying to get hold of one of your favorite pieces.

“This’d look good in our studio. We’re sea themed, and I’m starting to think you got these for me.”

“You fucking wish, Jeon. Give. them. back.” You try to reach for his hands behind his back, slightly urging the both of you to the walls behind, but he wouldn't budge.

And then he does.

He turns around, crashing his lips on yours in a frantic kiss, pushing you against the walls, hands still holding your rings behind his back. Clutching together.

Your hands free run to his face, bringing him impossibly closer.

Somehow, his lips roaming around yours, pacing back and forth between consuming your edged gasps, felt like the end of something.

You can’t pinpoint what, though.

Standing tall, head straight to catch a breath, he throws your damned rings off.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Especially when you have him, diving down again to catch your lips in his, running tongue through its seams, ever so furiously.

“Fuck, you’re even better after each trip, __.”

The contempt tastes bitter on your freshly patched up lips.

You knew he didn't mean that.

Last week, before Maldives, you parted ways after a fiery argument about your 'big girl adventures' like he called them.

All it took was you to post a picture with your dad's friend's son, Minho.

He’s about to kiss you again, when those freshly done nails of yours press lightly against his chest, halting the actions.

“Go sit there for me, Jungkook.” You muse into his ears, pointing at the stool behind his instrument.

“Why do you have such a thing for those drums? Hm, shortcake?" His demeanor seemed out of track, eyes blazing into yours.

He’s always been vocal about what he wanted, the clear boundaries and whatnot. But today was in your hands.

You pull him forward, pushing his chest, forcefully getting him to sit on that little chair.

And the next thing you do, takes his breath away. Snatches it, visibly.

You sit on his lap, legs wrapping ‘round his torso— his hands instinctively moving to your hips, holding you in place.

“Your hair has grown so much, kook.” You scramble about, untying your own silky locks that cascade down, bringing the piece of hair tie to his wavy ones that fell ever so prettily over his forehead, arching your chest into his face in the process of crafting a man bun.

You could figure out his fucked up state under you, but the coherence lasts no longer than a second as his mouth envelopes your hardened nipples, from over your flimsy skims top, the friction sending a zap of electricity through you.

“Wearing nothing underneath, you’re always so planned, huh?”

He goes back, trailing slight kisses around your smooth, buttered up neck, grazing the one spot he knew would send you in spirals, as soon as you finish tying his hair up.

“Uh-huh, wanna see you.” You bring him up, his forehead displayed, skin shining under the lights that illuminate the room.

“Hmm, proud of myself.” You grin, as he pushes you forward, hastily, that makes you helplessly choke out a moan.

Because, he’s already hard, and amidst all of this, you’d almost forgotten the purpose of this visit.

“Show me more things that you’d be proud of, shortcake.”

He guides you again, folds delicately parting at the feeling of his hard on, hidden behind the slacks.

Stupid pants.

“Off. I need these off.” He lets you pull down the sweats, catching you off guard after, by stopping you with a grip on the wrists.

“Don’t have much time. Just— fuck— just sit on me, okay?”

Oh.

You inch forth, capturing the supple skin of his neck, sucking on it gently, and you swear he elicits a deep guttural sound that you’re so used to, but he pulls you back by the forearm, halting your actions.

“What is it now?” You roll your eyes, clearly tired of the way he stops you at every fucking step.

“Don’t leave marks, __. I’m serious.” His eyes mirror red-hot warning, which provoked your otherwise vague intentions of actually giving him a hickey.

But all you do is move on his growing hard-on, desperately, because,

Fuck trying to work him up when you can clearly see him snaking into your arms, your actions.

His hands fly to your hips, holding them against his own yet again as you set a rhythm with this entire thing, whatever the fuck it was— it was sure getting him riled up beneath you.

“Fuck, yes- sshit- just like that, shortcake.” He groans into your ears, hands frantically tugging down the white skims top to finally reveal your bosoms. He presses a light kiss to the very ends of your nipples that pebbles under the cold air of the room, making you hiss into his ears at the sensation, head falling back as your torso never fails to ride into his.

You could see how close he was, with just a look at his outline pressing ever so deliciously into the tight Calvin Klein's you were sitting on— claiming as yours with every stroke of friction felt in between your thighs.

“Just fucking want my- goddamn- performance to get over so that I can fuck you backstage, angel.”

Your stomach tightens at the idea, strings of what could be his name, and a few profanities slipping out of your mouth.

“You want someone to catch us, don’t you?” His doe eyes look up at your figure on his, and you just dip down in response, sucking on his neck again, purposefully leaving a dark, purple mark on it.

Maybe, you wanna see him mad.

“Fuck, __. You can never stop being a brat and listen to me for once.” You were achingly close to snapping that knot coiling in the pit of your stomach, the traction from the rough fabric of his boxers giving you life, just about to send you over the peak.

But he just— as cruelly yanks you off his lap.

“Down. On your knees now.” He gets up, pulling his tee away from his body with just one hand.

This shouldn’t be turning you on.

But it was, so you do.

Drop down on your knees, behind the fucking drums, your frame hidden behind.

The thought of someone barging in at the sight of Jungkook and you behind, seemed so enticing to you, but it vanishes as soon as it takes form, when the man right in front of you, grabs your open hair tightly in a pony-tail, before you could even pull them boxers down and take him in your grip.

“You’re not gonna utter a word, and do as I say.”

You look at him through lidded eyes, too far gone to even retort now.

“Use your mouth, __.” He spills out your full name, and that means it's done. Your part is over.

“Yes.” You state simply, his face contorting in amusement, before pulling his boxers down just enough for his fully hard cock to come up.

However, he was wrong, in thinking he had the full advantage of being the upper hand.

“What happened to having no time, baby?” You huff, too fast to let him catch the tone, before taking his tip in your glossy mouth, and all that came out from him in response was a lucid groan.

You knew he wanted to curse at you, sputter pure despise at your audacity to ignore his words.

Best part is, you also knew what your mouth did to him.

Something that sounded like a hushed out moan rumbled out of him, as he pulled your hair, guiding you well.

“Fuck, you love taking me, don’t you? Filthy girl doing so well for me.” He seems to have entirely forgotten your words amidst the mirage of pleasure your mouth enveloped him in.

“Can you look at me, __?” He sputters, hands hovering over your glossy cheeks, hollowed out around his cock.

He lets go of your hair, brushing it to the side and tucking it behind your ears, the blazing pull that burnt your scalp deliciously all along, finally coming to rest.

His voice was gentle, the one you could feel everywhere, so you continued, without adhering to his wish.

Because, you were taken aback by the soft call.

Terrified.

What happened to the harsh monotony he put through minutes ago?

The sting on your scalp hasn't fully died out, yet.

How the hell did things transition so quickly?

Like he had a mid-sex awakening, purely due to some blood flow issues?

Hormones?

Focus, __. Your hands presses on the muscular flesh of his upper thigh, as movements grow confident around his cock, slightly stroking the base with your fingers now and then, teasing, the jerk of his hips against you so sudden, you mumble a hushed fuck that travels all the way up his breaking point.

“Yyes- ffuck- shortcake do you not hear me? Look up at me, __.” He forces your chin up, as your eyes follow his face, contorting in gleaming pleasure.

“You’re so f- pretty nghh-” Those sounds. Desperate and splintered.

“I’m c- god fuck, where do y’want me, shortcake nghh-” He makes the prettiest sounds, sure, but you were still dazed.

“Wherever.” Your blunt response caught him off-guard, as he slowly pulled out, his own hands taking over, desperately and rushed.

“I’m- fu- shortcake, you’re gonna be the end- ssshit- of me” He snaps, like its been forever, cumming so fucking hard, as it leaks onto your chin that he’s still got a hold of.

At one point, he’s gasping, panting, riding his high like it’s the last time, stamina completely thrown off.

But the next minute, his hands are on your forearms, nudging you up, manhandling, imposing, lifting you up by the waist with the ease of his tatted arms, onto his drums.

Your ass presses far too much onto the rim of the drum pad, its nuances nudging your soft flesh as he clings his body onto yours.

“What the fuck was the attitude you gave me, __?” He rasps, bold and unrelenting into your face.

“I’m leaving today.” You say in a breath, wanting to close your eyes and hide from his questions that you knew would follow after.

“You were the one who texted me, called me and came in here. Now you’re leaving? Is it because of the trust fund baby you posted last day? Minho?” He speaks into the afterglow that glistened your face, the lights more brighter as the evening transitioned into the fall of night.

“I won’t come to your concert this week.” You just keep on spewing these sentences, knowing that he’d get mad, but it was inevitable.

He pushes away, the sudden loss of proximity and warmth almost propelling your body forward to chase it again, but you control.

“I’ll use your restroom, yeah?” You grab the bag and rings that lay forgotten.

His lack of response was definitely novel, but you don’t dwell.

Jungkook plops down on the couch, hands slowly untying the man bun that knotted his hair tightly, ruffling the now free curls, raking his palms slowly through them.

You come back, hands washed and freshened up, seeing him sprawled out on the couch.

Those lingering moments and conversations weren't a part of the deal. As much as you wanted to explain— how you had to urgently leave for London and why you're missing his concert— the way his features softened during sex, while he had you on him, all over and consuming.

That was new.

Bemusing.

You wanted to say anything, really.

But what was there to tell him, that doesn't sound like a goodbye now?

So, you quietly gather your things— the only things filling up the space being the hum of the aircon and the sofa creaking with his legs shaking in somewhat an anxious tone— and leave the studio.

────୨ৎ────

note, endingment and all who am i lmao BUT

part two?

the post oc made with minho here

────୨ৎ────

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lidiasloca · 2 months ago

Note

Oh, oh, oh! I have one! What about that trend lately of telling your s/o that you can’t pay the rent or bills this month and seeing their action? Would love to see it with my love Azriel!

XOXO

will you pay my bills?

azriel x reader

summary: don’t worry, love - azriel always pays for everything you want

“Az,” you mewled from the kitchen, not even turning your back to check if he would come.

And, of course, Azriel was there in an instant. “You said something, love?”

You turned slowly, leaning on the countertop as you eyed him helplessly. He took in your desperate face and closed the distance swiftly. “What is it?”

“I… I have something to ask you…” Gods—were you a good actress. You had a hard time biting back your smile as you thought about the face Nesta would make when you explained this to her.

Az’s face couldn’t hide the worry—the utter, unconditional love he felt for you. And because you loved him all the same, you couldn’t bear making him suffer any longer with your sad pout and helpless doe eyes.

You nestled into the sudden warmth of his hand on your cheek only for a bit, quickly forcing yourself to move back and look into his eyes. Now was the real acting challenge.

“Az… I can’t pay my bills this month.”

First came his confusion. He dropped his arm, taking away the warmth of his hand to brush his hair back, still looking at you with a frown. “What did you say?”

“I can’t pay my bills this month.”

“What do you mean you can’t pay your bills this month?” He marked the last bit with a childish tone.

But you wouldn’t back down. “I can’t.”

“Y/N…” he breathed, and you caught a hint of a smile on his lips. “You never have to pay for your bills.”

You tried hard to suffocate your rising chuckle. And failed. But you continued your game nonetheless. “Az, it’s not funny—”

“You’re the one laughing, love.”

“Hush. It’s not funny. I can’t pay my bills, Az. I spent all my money on… lingerie.”

Azriel’s smile finally bloomed into a devilish beam. He took one final step, cornering you against the countertop, his arms resting on either side of you.

“You spent all your money on lingerie?” he asked, pretending shock.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the feigned surprise on his face, such a contrast to his usual cool features. Only you got to see the shadowsinger so unworried, so childish.

You reached your thumb up to caress the frown on his brow. “I did...” you cried.

He smiled as he gently took your hand away from his face and held it to his chest. “My love, I am the one who pays your bills. Always.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing again. “Oh… it’s true,” you whispered. “Now I remember.”

He nodded, squeezing your hand. “And you should remember too,” he whispered into your ear. “That I am to pay for everything you desire. Everything you want. Lingerie included.”

“Oh…” you said again, feeling goosebumps rise on your neck at the warm breath fanning it. “So I spent all my money for nothing?”

“Well, you shouldn’t have spent it yourself. But that doesn’t mean it was for nothing.” You then felt his hand let go of yours, only to trail paths on your waist. “We can make use of that lingerie you bought.”

“But will you pay my bills?” you asked, unable to hold back your smile.

He smirked, shaking his head in disbelief. “What a spoiled mate I have.”

a/n: i am back. hello. HELLOOOOOOOO I MISSED THIS I MISSED YOU HELLO HOLA HELLO!!!!! I LOVE LIFE!!

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #az imagine #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel spymaster

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tommysversion · 1 year ago

Text

Curls - Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

Note: Oh, shocking, a Joel ficlet inspired by this image. It’s smut. There’s no plot beyond: Joel grows out his hair. You like to pull it.

“Joel…”

You drag your fingers through curls that you’ve seen turn steadily greyer recently; you’ve watched him grow them out, shove them back off his face.

Before you can help yourself, you tug on his hair gently, barely at all, shifting beneath him. He has you pinned down, caged beneath his bigger, broader frame. It’s about the only action you can take, beyond running your hands up his back, fingertips ghosting across scarred muscle.

Your fingers always come back to his hair; you tug again as he shifts against you, grinds his pelvis into yours, making sure you feel every single thick inch of his cock buried inside you.

“Ah, fuck, Joel!” You gasp, yanking on his curls as he hits your sweet spot.

Joel bites his lip, trying to muffle the moan that threatens to escape him when you pull on his hair, far harder than you ever have before. Maybe it doesn’t come out the way it would if he had let it, but this tiny, muffled, needy little moan comes out nonetheless.

A devious idea crosses your mind, spurred on by his unexpected reaction. You wait until he’s nuzzled his face back into your shoulder, focusing too much on how wet and tight you are around his cock to notice what you’re scheming.

Once you’re certain he’s distracted, you run your fingers through those long, soft, grown out curls once more, giving yourself a moment just to touch, before you pull. Hard. Or at least, hard by your standards.

Joel tries, tries so damn hard, not to let any sound escape him, but the moan that tears from his throat is downright filthy; it turns to a sinful growl when he sees how pleased with yourself you look.

“Oh, think that’s funny, do ya? Real cute.” He grumbles, frustrated with himself, because damn if he isn’t the scariest man in Jackson, and yet you can bring him to his knees, turn him into a whimpering, pleading mess without much effort and with zero hesitation on his behalf.

Joel grips your thighs in his big, scarred hands, practically folding you in half as he growls again, roughly fucking into you.

You gasp and moan, tugging him by his curls into a greedy, sloppy kiss as he spears his cock deep into you, grinding his hips against yours so that the coarse curls at the base of him tease your oversensitive clit.

“Ohhh, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck Joel!” You’re completely gone, lost, clinging onto him, writhing beneath him as best you can when he has you folded up beneath him.

Looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes, you whimper as he draws back, changing angle so he can look down at you with his deep, caramel gaze, plush lips slightly parted as he watches you come apart beneath him.

“That’s it, darlin’, c’mon now-“

His rough, low voice is soft, almost sweet, a stark contrast to his rough, relentless, heavy thrusts, letting gravity take over. Joel knows he has you, can feel how close you are by the way your cunt flutters around him, tightening around the fat girth of him, making him groan again.

“Fuck, darlin’, so good for me, you’re so fuckin’ good for me…”

Joel knows he’s rambling, or rather, he’s dimly aware of it, knows he sounds like an idiot, like a pussy drunk fool, but he’s so lost in you, in the way your fingers tug insistently at his curls, at the way you whimper.

“C’mon sweetheart,” he moans the last word as your fingers card through his hair once more, pulling him down close to you; leaning so close like this, you can hear every muffled moan, every grunt and exhale and growl as his hips slap lewdly against yours.

“Joel, I -“

You can’t get the words out, trailing off into a desperate, pathetic whimper as your hips meet; the added stimulation to your clit finally sending you over the edge.

Your vision blurs, unsure if your eyes are closed or if you simply can’t see, your entire body shaking and writhing beneath him as your nails drag down his back, pulling his much broader frame as close to you as possible.

Joel groans again, an almost pathetic sound as he fucks you through it, taking his time to draw out your climax, chasing his own with relentless abandon.

Sixty years old, he thinks, and he can still fuck like a man half his age. If he wasn’t so focused on how wet and tight you are, on your hands in his hair, on the way it feels when you pull on his curls, he’d feel so smug about this.

Maybe that says more about the effect you have on him than anything else.

Fuck, he’s close, he realises, so caught up in watching you come apart beneath him that he hadn’t been keeping himself on edge well enough.

“Joel… please…” you look up at him with big doe eyes, breathing heavily as you try to regulate yourself, watching the way those greying curls fall into his dark eyes as he lets out a low moan again.

Half a dozen sharp snaps of his hips and he’s there, growling, panting, moaning, sounding filthier and more desperate with each one before he reluctantly pulls out of you at the last minute, wrapping one big hand around his soaked cock and stroking, grunting as he spills onto your soft skin, cock twitching in his hand at the way his spend coats you.

You look so pretty like that, Joel thinks, somewhere in the depths of his brain that isn’t completely occupied by feeling as though every nerve in his body is reconfiguring.

“Hey, Joel?” You lean up, press a kiss to his jaw, running your fingers almost lovingly through his curls again.

“Hm?” He reaches to the nightstand for a soft cloth to clean you up with, finding his glasses, too, unfolding the large frames and sliding them up the curve of his nose.

“You should have told me you like having your hair pulled.”

He scoffs, lays the lightest of swats to your ass.

“Careful, darlin’, don’t start what you can’t finish.”

It’s your turn to scoff as you take the cloth from him, finish cleaning yourself up and toss it to the hamper at the end of the bed.

“You and I both know I can finish you just fine.” You giggle as Joel pulls you back into his arms, against his broad chest, where you feel safest.

Running your fingers through his curls, you hum contentedly as he holds you; this is exactly where you belong, you think.

“You just watch yourself,” Joel shakes his head, but there’s no heat in his tone. “Guess it wasn’t so bad that I grew this out after all, huh?”

“Definitely not.” You press another kiss to his jaw, eager to just hold onto this moment together, to be held by him and, admittedly, look forward to the next time.

#my writing #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #Joel Miller smut #my fics #hbo the last of us #Joel Miller fic

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scorpioriesling · 2 months ago

Note

i need some smut with liam mairi. specifically maybe based to the concept of bed chem by sabrina carpenter 👀 we know he’s the cute guy with the wide blue eyes and the big bad mmm 🫠

I Bet We'd Have Really Good...

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x reader

Warning(s): 18+, mdni, nsfw, sex, p in v, fingering

Summary: Everyone knew how threshing typically went; however, no one could have prepared you for how it would actually go this time around.

SR’s Note: Not me LITERALLY planning to use this for Kinktober -- LOL. I was going to use Lucien, though. Nonetheless, I believe Liam is quite literally the perfect candidate for this type of story. Enjoy!!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Initiation was rough.

The parapet? Hell.

The first few months of challenges? Hell.

Training? Hell.

However... there was an entire new Hell, meant to scare and inspire riders during the hardest challenge they'd face yet.

Threshing.

"We haven't even met all of our yearmates yet," your new friend Malea mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. "How do they expect us to meet and bond with a dragon? A mere stranger to us?"

You sigh, looking out across the quad full of other riders.

"I mean... at least we've met some of them, right?" You shrug. "There's Violet, and Ridoc, remember him? Funny guy?"

Malea chuckles, her eyes locking on the brunette across the way.

"Yeah, real funny."

You bump her shoulder and she looks to you.

"Met me too, right?" You raise your eyebrows. She rolls her eyes.

"Yesssss," she groans, shaking her head. "I suppose you're right."

You shrug. "So I guess bonding a dragon won't be that hard, right?"

* ✧･ﾟ: *

The following morning, you followed routine as usual.

Get up.

Shower.

Brush teeth.

Ponytail.

I was in a cheer dress, the day that we met

We were both in a rush, we talked for a sec

You're friending me up, so we could connect

You nod along with the newest Sabrina Carpenter song playing from your phone, brushing back the last few flyaways up into your ponytail.

And what are the odds? You send me a text

And now the next, thing I know I'm like

Manifest that you're oversized

You click the pause button as Malea bangs her fist on your shared bathroom door, and look yourself over one last time.

"Y/N! C'mon, its almost ten -- we need to be down there!"

You loose a breath, reaching for the doorhandle. Tugging it open, you look into her worried hazel eyes. She places a tentative hand on your shoulder, faking a reassuring smile.

"We'll both bond dragons, the strongest there are." She affirms. "C'mon, say it with me."

You take a deep breath, trying hard to repress the fear clawing at you from the inside.

"We'll both bond dragons," you repeat. "Strongest there are."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

The flight field was full of eager riders, all dressed in black. The stark contrast of color against the lush green grass, the early sun making the air around you more energized than ever.

You gulped. This was it, this was truly it. You'd either bond a dragon today, or you wouldn't.

I digress, got me scrolling like

Out of breath, got me going like

Oooh

Silly song, clouding your thoughts. You literally flinch when Malea places an excited hand on your forearm.

"Hey! Just think, after we bond our dragons, we get to go to that really sick party tonight," she bounces with excitement. You look incredulously at her. You were literally about to go through Threshing, and all she could think about was the party tonight?

"Yeah, uh, I don't know if I'll go to that, Lea," you say with uncertainty. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of green among the nearly trees. Malea sighs, chattering behind you.

You look closer toward the trees, the shimmering scales among them catching the light again. Your eyes widen, and you take a small step toward the forrest.

"Y/N, c'mon you know it'll be so fun, we can meet all the other first years like you said..."

Her voice faded out as you continued on your path, venturing closer toward the treeline. You squinted, peering in as much as you could but finding nothing.

Step. Step. Step.

Who's the cute boy

With the white jacket

And the thick accent? Like,

You hum as you venture further, the song still playing through your mind.

Ooh

Maybe it's all in my head, but-

Your breath catches, the tune halting in your mind. You inch closer to one of the trees, trying to calm the racing of your heart.

You peer between two thick oaks, watching as a shimmer of orange stalks nearer.

No, no no.

Your blodd pumps fast, making it hard to hear. You strain to listen, but the sound of crunching grass beneath the huge beast's claws is unmistakeable. You bite your lip, fear wrapping its razor sharp claws around your heart.

Taking a daring glance around the tree, you freeze.

Its eyes lock onto yours.

You let out a single breath.

The huge dragon blows out a stream of fire, its mouth curling upward as though it is smirking at you. Your breaths come out short, ragged even.

It charges.

You inhale as quickly as you can, running as fast as you can away from the huge creature. You're on a path, running running running...

Deeper into the forrest.

Oh, shit.

Heat blasts behind you, and you don't dare to turn back. You know that the orange is still chasing you, which only propels you further. The beast roars behind you, and you squeak in fear. How would anyone find you out here, alone in the woods?

Burned to a crisp, likely.

You pass tree after tree, continuing on as the ground shakes. He's getting closer, and your heart lurches when your foot catches on a thick root. You are sent flying, crashing to the dirt path.

You gasp, the wind completely knocked from you. When you push yourself up, you wince at the searing pain blooming across your cheek. There's no time to dwell on it -- quickly flipping over, your vision fills with the image of the feisty orange charging you.

You scramble back, kicking against the dirty moss-ridden ground in a flightless attempt to get away. You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for the worst, when suddenly...

"Back! Stay the Hell back!"

Your eyes widen, the rush of adrenaline spearing through you as you scramble to your feet. The orange's eyes are no longer focused on you, but rather the blonde male before it, weilding a rather sharp sword.

"Don't make me use this," he shouts, and the dragon breathes out a short spurt of fire. The blonde swings the blade, nearly slashing the beast's neck. It rears its head, preparing for another blast before-

It starts slowly backing away.

You finally release the breath you'd been holding, watching it's retreating form through the trees. It seemed to focus on something behind you, something... else.

You turn, breathing coming more and more shallow before you spot it.

A large, red dragon. It slowly stalked closer to you.

You yelped, stumbling back once more and finding yourself yet again, on the ground. Backing up against a tree, you clamp a hand over your mouth.

But, the red daggertail walks right past you.

The blonde finally turns, and you catch a glimpse of his face.

His, handsome, face, that is.

His gaze focuses squarely on the approaching being, his shoulders rising and falling before he sheathes his sword across his back. You'd half expected him to keep it out, considering what just happened, but instead... he smiles.

You completely ignore the tingle in your tummy as you watch the red dragon walk to him, bowing his head in greeting. The handsome man laughs, full and hearty as he reaches for it, extending a hand to brush kindly over his nose.

Your heart warms at the sight -- so this is bonding. You can't help the small smile on your face, watching a fellow rider find it's match.

When it has been a few minutes too long, you feel like you're intruding, you brace your hands on the ground. Preparing to stand, you jump when a voice is heard just before you.

"You alright?"

You gasp, your gaze jerking up to meet the most gorgeous, icy blue one you'd ever seen. The blonde had walked to you, back turned to his newly bonded dragon. Nodding, he extends a hand to you.

"Good," he continues. "I'm Liam. Mairi."

You work to control your breathing, your voice coming out shakier than you'd like.

"Y/N," you offer, and take his hand firmly in yours. Expecting a handshake, you grip tight -- however, he holds your fingers in his lightly, turning your palm to the ground as he brings the back of your hand to his lips.

The blush spreading across your face is downright shameful.

"Y/N," he repeats, dropping your hand and looking you in the eyes. "I don't think we've met."

You shake your head slowly, your gaze lost in his endless ocean of a stare. He chuckles, flashing his brilliant smile -- and the tingles in your tummy return.

"Have you... bonded, yet?" He asks. You straighten, the tingling sensation gone again as you recall what you were actually supposed to be doing out here.

"N-no," you stammer, embarassment heating your skin. Liam only shrugs, placing a guiding hand on your lower back as he steps toward the path once more.

"Don't worry," he encourages. "I'm sure you'll find one -- maybe not all the way out here, but." He grins, and you look up at him. He gives you a reassuring smile, walking alongside you as his dragon trails behind.

"Might have a better chance out in the open, ya know. On the flight feild?" You huff, and he looks down to you. "What were you doin' all the way out here, anyways?"

You recount the events that had led up to you being so far in the forrest, and as you retell it... you can't help but feel the pang of disappointment. Telling this handsome, fearless male about your encounter with a dragon -- and running from it?

Your stomach churned.

"That's when you came along," you finish the retelling. "Thank you, by the way." You look to the ground, and Liam's steps slow.

"We're almost to the edge of the forrest," he says, looking between you and the treeline. "Are you ready?"

You loose a long breath, the small of your back still ablaze where his hand had rested.

"Ready as ever."

He flashed you one more look of reassurance, before stepping out into the sunlight. You followed, your gaze catching on the tones muscles concealed beneath his black tee.

In that moment, you could only think about one thing.

I bet we'd have really good bed chem.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Yeah, and he totally wasn't interested at first, but all I had to do was flash these guys and Aotrom totally wanted me!"

You chuckled as you chewed on your straw, listening to Ridoc's retelling of his threshing experience. You watch as he flexes his muscles, and girls near him laugh. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Malea roll her eyes, bringing her cup to her lips and taking a long sip.

Chatter continued around you, busybodies interacting with one another under the neon lights of the club. Mostly first years had come, but you'd spotted a few second and even thirds mingling with the crowd.

How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense

How you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

That's bed chem

How you're looking at me yeah I know what that means and

I'm obsessed

Are you free next week?

I bet we'd have really good...

You nod along as the speakers blast your favorite song, and Malea leans in close to shout in your ear.

"Hey! I think I see that guy you were telling me about earlier," she yells, and your head swivels in the direction of her line of sight. "Is that him?"

The blonde hair. Radiant smile. Overjoyous laugh at something his friend just said.

Yeah. It's him.

"That's... yeah, uh..." You trail off. His arms bulge beneath the black longsleeve he wears -- a nod to how muscular he is. His cargo pants sit perfectly on his hips, and your eyes track his movements as he runs a hand through his hair...

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Malea teases.

Come right on me

I mean-

"Camraderie," you chuckle nervously. “You know… friendship and all that.” She raises an eyebrow at you, and you take a large gulp of your drink.

"Sure." She shrugs, and you shake the thoughts from your head. Ridoc makes his way toward the two of you, his gaze mainly focused on your red-head counterpart.

Said you’re not in my time zone but you wanna be

"Oh, where art though? Why not uponeth me?" He teases, earning himself yet another Malea-famous eyeroll.

"In your dreams, Ridoc." She sighs, looking up at him. "I only date second years."

You frown at her. That was downright untrue.

Ridoc laughs, leaning in to speak directly to her.

"Well good thing I fuck like a third."

You giggle as her cheeks pinken, her wide-eyed gaze up at your yearmate.

"I see it in my mind, Malea -- c'mon, lets fulfil the prophecy." He winks at her, and she shakes her head, tipping her cup back once more. Ridoc makes to depart, but you catch his forearm before he can make it too far.

"Hey, maybe you know... who's the cute guy, with the wide blue eyes?" You ask him, pointing to Liam across the way. And the big bad mmm...

Stop.

"Oh, Liam?" He says, catching sight of the other male across the way. "Yeah, his family was part of the rebellion or something. I know he's like, best friends with our Wingleader, but. Yeah. Cool dude, I guess." He shrugs. "Beat the shit out of me at challenges, if I'm honest."

"I know I sound a bit redundant, but," you continue. "Is he... single?"

Ridoc laughs, side-eyeing you. "Why don't you go find out yourself? I think after a successful day of bonding a dragon, the least you could do is chat the guy up."

That's exactly. What you were afraid of.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

Another hour and three more drinks in, you were ready to call it quits. However, finding Malea on the dance floor was not as simple a task as one may think.

You searched as best as you could, that is while stumbling through the crowd. It seemed everywhere you looked, she just wasn't there. Your eyes began to blur as you took in each and every face around you -- some familiar, some not. The more and more you weaved and turned on the dance floor...

"Woah there! You alright?"

Your stomach lurched as the familiar voice sounded behind you. Two strong arms gently wrapped around your waist holding you upright, and you couldn't help but lean into the culprit.

"I believe you already asked me that today."

Liam laughs, his chest rising and falling against your back. He leans in, pulling a strand of hair from your forehead and tucking it behind your ear.

"Cute and funny -- I like it," he says. You crane your neck to look at him, a dumb smile overtaking your face. His cheeks are redder than they were a few hours ago, but you notice the absence of a drink in his hand.

"You don't drink?"

He shrugs.

"Not regularly, but seeing as its nearly midnight, my Wingleader stepped in and suggested the cutoff." He jabs his thumb over his shoulder in Xaden's direction. The third year doesn't notice; he's too caught up in the silver-haired girl in front of him.

"Do you drink?"

You continue your smiling, turning to face him fully.

"Tonight I do."

He chuckles, his grip releasing a bit around your waist. You frown, your hands reaching for his forearms to put them back.

"Waitttt," you whine, and his brows raise in amusement. "I like them there."

His grin turns into something... darker, a flicker of something more than attraction passing over his features. You bite your bottom lip, pressing against his chest once more.

He not so subtly glances down at the neckline of your dress -- and, like you'd hoped, a moment later his hard-on is pressing against your stomach.

You wind your arms around his neck, tugging him close so you can whisper in his ear.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

You giggle. "I bet we'd have really good bed chem."

He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, pulling back only slightly as his grip on your waist tightens.

"Oooh... you have no idea what you just got yourself into."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense

How you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

The song continued replaying in your mind as you walked back to your dorm. You'd agreed to meet Liam in 30 minutes, and your dorm being at the very end of the hallway certainly didn't help.

That's bed chem

How you're looking at me yeah I know what that means and

I'm obsessed

Are you free next week?

I bet we'd have really good...

When you finally reached your dorm, you all but texted your friend goodnight before racing around the small joint like a racehorse. She wouldn't see it anyway, she left the club with Ridoc... and you knew what that meant.

The mental checklist ticked off with every task you completed; the cutest lingerie, running a brush through your hair, retouching your makeup...

Not that it mattered. You hoped it'd get ruined anyway.

One spritz of perfume later, and you were out the door, racing down the hall once more.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

You all but skipped to the boy's dorms, delusionally betting that you and him would arrive at the same time. Would his room be hot? Freezing cold? You paused in thought; maybe, he'd set it the perfect temp: 69.

You rounded the corner, finding dorm 15 and taking a deep breath. You really hoped this wouldn't only be better inside your head--

The chuckle you let out surprised you. It was Liam Mairi; surely, whatever happened would be perfect.

His door opened as soon as you walked up to it, and he leaned against the doorway with a lazy smile. He'd already done the honor of removing his shirt; and in your state of mind, your gaze roved over his ripping abs unashamedly.

"Stop oogling me and c'mere already," his voice came out deeper than when you heard it last, and a rush of heat went straight to your core. He reached out, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you inside.

How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense

The room was dark, and sure enough; the perfect temperature. You giggled as he pulled you against him, his hands immediately finding your ass before squeezing.

You squeaked as he walked you to the bed, pushing you down upon it and leaning in to smash his lips onto yours. You groaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as his mouth moved against yours.

He broke away moments later, his fingers finding the hem of your dress and shoving it up to your waist. He sucked in a breath, his gaze lingering on the crotchless panties you so kindly wore for him.

How you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

"Fuck, baby..." he groaned, his fore and middle fingers parting the lacy garment in search. "Already so wet for me, aren't you, gorgeous?"

That's bed chem

You blushed, though you doubted he could see it in the moonlight. His fingers sank inside of you, so slowly... you moaned in satisfaction. He withdrew them, shoving them back in only a moment later.

"That's a good girl," he cooed, and you bit your bottom lip hard to surpress a moan threatening to break free. He leaned in, his idle thumb swiping across your lower lip before kissing you again. This time, he was more forceful, sliding his tongue in to explore your mouth with intrigue.

You had your own ideas though, as your fingers dipped below his waistband in search of his cock.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you found it.

"Oh Gods Liam... you're so big-"

He hissed when you started tugging on his length, his head thrown back at the sensation. After a few strokes he looked down at you again, hungrier than ever.

How you're looking at me yeah I know what that means and

I'm obsessed

His hand yanked your fingers off of him, and he slid his from you. In an instant, you were flipped onto your tummy, his fingers yanking your ass into the air. You felt his velvety skin against yours, his own hand fisting his cock a few times as he prepared to fuck you.

"You sure you still want this?"

You nodded, responding quietly.

"Please, Liam. Fuck me good."

He needed no more encouragement.

His long, thick cock thrust into you, so deep that you could only gasp at the feeling. Your pussy was instantly stretched to accomodate his size, and he loosed a breath at the sight before him.

Pulling out halfway, he rammed himself back in -- and again, and again. Small pants erupted from you, your forearms barely holding you upright on the mattress as he continued pounding mercilessly into you.

You arched your back, giving him a new angle to hit and he groaned. His fingers gripped your ass so hard you knew there would be bruises -- but, you didn't quite care.

"Fuck... this pussy was made for me, Y/N," he gritted out, his hips snapping against your ass at a quicker pace. "Fuckin' love how you feel."

You could only gurgle a response as one of his hands reached around your throat, giving a slight squeeze -- just enough that you saw stars.

"Oh God -- Liam, I'm gonna cum--"

You squeezed your eyes shut as pleasure-filled tears slipped out, the sensation of your pussy being absolutely wrecked guiding you to the edge faster than ever before.

"Fuck... oh fuck-"

He yanked his cock out of you, his cum spurting from it only a second later. Your walls clenched and released, the empty feeling inside no match for the orgasm rolling through you. Hot ropes of cum decorated your panties and ass, and Liam stared as he caught his breath behind you.

When you turned to face him, he was reaching for a towel on the floor. You turned back to face the sheets, your chest still rapidly rising and falling. He gently ran the fabric over you, cleaning up the remnants of your prior activities before chucking it to the floor once more.

"As much as I'd love for you to stay just like that," he begins, chuckling. "I think we should probably get some rest."

You giggle, turning to sit on the mattress properly as he got on beside you. He relaxed against the cushion, kicking off the heavy blanket and pulling the sheet up to his chin. He gave you a wide-eyed, sad puppy look before motioning for you to join him.

Who would you be if you didn't oblige?

You crawled beneath the sheets beside him, your head resting against his arm as he snuggled you close. You gazed right up into those beautiful blue eyes, sleep threatening to soon take you.

"Was that... did you..."

He grins, placing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

"I guess you were right, Y/N. We really do have good bed chem."

You chuckled, the laughter soon turning into a yawn. Liam followed with one of his own, his eyes closing as he spoke again.

"And, you? Any thoughts?"

You grinned, closing your eyes as well.

"Just one... are you free next week?"

* ✧･ﾟ: *

#liam mairi x you #liam mairi smut #liam mairi imagine #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi #fourth wing smut #fourth wing #the empyrean #iron flame imagine #iron flame #onyx storm #smut #read more

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worrywrite · 8 months ago

Text

I like that throughout the locked tomb books, Palamedes is sort of venerated as a genius and tends to be displayed in the most protagonistic light among pretty much all the characters. Gideon sees him as a kind but dangerously intelligent and capable figure, as someone who knows what he's doing (until he explodes) and has all the answers, and so we kind of start to see him that way too. Harrow has seen him as an equal to some degree, more well rounded than her and perhaps not so excellent as she in bone magic but a genius nonetheless and an ally to boot. Further, Harrow sees him as extraordinarily capable when she realizes he's managed to hang on after death and she does seem to display some reverence towards him, in contrast to her miserable life he seems like he has things figured out and like he has solutions (even though he's dead).

But then Nona meets him. And she just sees him as a sort of silly and goofy idiot boy who is kind to her but probably has no idea what he's doing. And she constantly overhears and intrudes on him and so she knows he's kind of flying by the seat of his pants. She doesn't like him for his genius, or even see him that way (intelligence doesn't really matter to her), she likes him for his element of chaos in an otherwise stringent household and because he makes Camilla happy in a way she doesn't quite understand. Nona very much does not see Palamedes as a heroic of protagonistic figure, and I think that's very funny because everyone else saw him that way because he seemed so capable relative to themselves--but Nona is simultaneously extremely less and incredibly more competent than him and doesn't even consider their capacities comparable on either end.

#tlt #the locked tomb #palamedes #palamedes sextus #heroism as perspective

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urlocaloptimist · 5 months ago

Text

Telemachus glances over at Y/n as they walk together, and the young man notices the contrast between them. She was stunningly beautiful and he was rather plain looking. But nonetheless, he always enjoyed her company. He smiled as he looked at her, his gaze lingering slightly longer than usual. He tried not to stare at the way the setting sun caught in her hair, and he pushed down the feeling of admiration that stirred within his chest. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to having her around, though he couldn't deny that he enjoyed her company. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever other men would look her way. But he quickly reminded himself that he had no claim over her; she was free to speak to whoever she wanted. Besides, she seemed utterly oblivious to all of the attention she received... As Telemachus continued walking beside y/n, his thoughts began to turn to the idea of marrying her. He'd never once considered such a thing before, but he couldn't deny that the thought appealed to him greatly. He'd never loved anyone quite like he loved her, and the idea of spending the rest of his life with her seemed like a dream come true.

But he quickly shook the thought from his mind, reminding himself that marriage was a serious matter, not just something to be thought of lightly. Besides, he wasn't even sure if y/n reciprocated his feelings. Despite his attempts to push the thought away, Telemachus couldn't shake the idea. He found himself stealing glances at her, his heart racing each time she smiled at him. He was tempted to tell her how he felt, but he wasn't sure how she would react. Would she laugh in his face? Or worse, would she simply see him as a friend and nothing more?

As they walked, he couldn't stop himself from imagining what their life together might be like. He pictured them walking hand in hand on the beach, or dancing under the stars. He saw himself waking up beside her every morning, watching her brush her hair and dress in the morning light. He could practically see the children they would have together, with her striking good looks and his intelligence. He knew it was foolish to get his hopes up like this, but he couldn't help it. Every moment he spent with her only made him more certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "Y/n, I need to ask you something.", "Go on," I tell him, He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. His heart was racing and he felt like he might be sick. "I wanted to know if... if you might have a crush on me?" he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly.

I worried for a moment that someone who knew of my feelings told him so I asked "Did someone tell you that" Slightly panicked, "No, not at all. It's just... I've noticed a few things," Telemachus stuttered, his hands fidgeting nervously. "And I wondered if maybe you felt something for me?", maybe it would be best to just be honest with him, who knows, he might feel the same, "I...I do, I'm sorry, I understand if you don't feel the same" I couldn't help myself from hoping, Telemachus was taken aback by her response, his heart swelling with happiness. He hadn't expected her to feel the same way. "No, no, I do," he said quickly. "More than you know." That was a surprise to me, a very good surprise. He stepped forward, taking both of her hands in his own. "I've... I've never felt this way about anyone before," he admitted. "You're beautiful and smart, and funny, and I just can't imagine my life without you. I know we've only known each other for a month but... I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt. But all he saw was a reflection of his own feelings. "Y/n, will you... will you marry me?", "Yes," I tell him full of excitement. A huge smile broke out across Telemachus's face, his heart feeling like it might explode from happiness. He couldn't believe that she had said yes. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, pulling her close to him. "I can't believe this is real. I never thought you'd say yes," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

(Timeskip)

Telemachus could feel his heart racing in his chest as he stood in the throne room, holding Y/n's hand in his own. They were standing before his parents, King Odysseus and Queen Penelope, both of whom were eyeing them curiously. Odysseus looked pleased with his son, with a hint of a smile on his face, but Penelope was studying Y/n carefully, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Father, Mother," Telemachus began, struggling to keep his voice steady. "There's something I need to tell you." Odysseus nodded, gesturing for his son to continue.

"Y/n and I... we've decided we want to get married." He held his breath, waiting for his parents' reaction. Odysseus's smile widened, but Penelope's expression remained impassive. For a moment, the room was silent. But then Odysseus spoke up. "This is splendid news, my boy," he said, his voice filled with pride and approval. He leaned back in his chair, still with a smile on his face. Penelope, however, was still quiet, her gaze fixed on y/n. Telemachus could feel his palms growing sweaty, his heart still racing in his chest. He knew his mother was a tough woman, and he was terrified that she would outright reject y/n as her daughter-in-law. "Mother... please, say something," Telemachus spoke up, his voice pleading. Penelope was silent for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. But then, slowly, a smile began to form on her lips. Telemachus let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, relief washing over him. "Very well," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "You have my blessing."

Odysseus clapped his hands together, still smiling widely. "A wedding is certainly in order then!" he exclaimed, looking almost gleeful. "We must make the preparations at once." Thus begins the chaotic planning and preparation that comes with a royal wedding in Ithaca, but it will all be worth it.

#epic the musical #telemachus #fanfic #telemachus x reader

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silent-stories · 8 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Summary: Reassuring Noah that he is a good boyfriend, even if he is not always present because of his job.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Tw: angst, comfort

It had been days, perhaps even weeks since you first started to notice the shift in Noah. You hadn't thought much about it at first. You knew what came along with dating someone like him: the long nights at the studio, irregular hours, and constant pressure of the music industry weighing down hard, and great responsibility to front such a band as he did.

Of late, however, it had been much more than that. His absence had become as much physical as it was everything else. You'd notice how he'd zone out when you spoke, how he would sit with you and yet his mind would be somewhere else. You'd catch him sometimes staring ahead, his jaw clenched, the weight of the world resting on those tense shoulders.

You would try to ask him how he was doing, but he always deflected, gave you a smile that never reached the eyes, and muttered something about being fine.

But you knew better. You knew him better than anyone.

Tonight, though, was different.

The band was over for dinner, and Jolly, Nicholas, and Folio were no different: loud, boisterous, filling the room with laughter and stories. Nights like that always had you having a good time-it seemed like a chance to see the boys unwind and laugh along with them, being a part of what makes this band more like family than just a group of musicians.

Normally, Noah was right in the middle of it all, joking around or playing along with ridiculous stories, but tonight, he'd been quiet. Too quiet.

You looked over at him as you were seated at the dinner table and felt him staring down at his plate, shoving food around with his fork listlessly. He'd barely taken a bite and his usual sarcasm or sharp wit was utterly absent. The night wore on, and this funny feeling you had-you couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was amiss. Every now and then, you caught him looking at you, his brow furrowed like he was lost in thought. And every time you glanced back, he quickly looked away into some other direction, as if his eyes had been engaged somewhere else all along.

Over dinner, as the guys moved into the living room, sprawling across couches and settling in for what would inevitably devolve into a late-night hangout, you felt Noah's hand brush yours under the table. It was a fleeting touch, one that you almost missed, but nonetheless it caught your attention. You look up at him, and for the first time that night, he meets your gaze directly.

"Can we talk in private?" he asked quietly, his voice soft but laced with something that sounded like hesitation-or maybe fear. Your heart skipped a beat.

There was something in his tone, something that made the air between you feel heavier-like this conversation was going to unravel something big. You nodded, giving him a small smile in an attempt to reassure him, but he didn't return it.

Instead, he stood up and walked you out into the night, out of earshot of the band's laughter and chatter.

The cool night air caressed your skin, while the clear sky above was scattered with stars. The porch was dimly lit, the soft glow of the house reaching out to it, casting long shadows across the wooden boards. It was quiet out here, with only the distant hum of the city and a complete contrast from the noise inside.

You could feel the tension radiating off Noah, standing with his back to you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his posture stiff.

For a moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched out between you, and your heart began to race while you waited for something, anything, to happen. You wanted to reach out, to say something, but there was something in his demeanor that stopped you. He looked like he was struggling-like whatever was on his mind was tearing him apart from the inside.

Finally, after an eternity, he turned to face you. His eyes, once bright, full of life, had dimmed and clouded over, heavy with a sadness that pushed against your chest. He let out a weighted breath, running a hand through his dark hair before he dropped his gaze to the ground, unable to look at you.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," he started, his tone low, barely above a whisper. There was a rough edge to it, as if he was holding on by a thread. "About us."

Those two words sent a jolt of anxiety through you as suddenly your mind spiraled. Was he breaking up with me? Was this the moment everything I'd built together crumbled? You opened your mouth to speak-wordsshall remain stuck in your throat, too tight in your fear.

Noah must have sensed your panic because he quickly shook his head, stepping closer. "No, no- it's not what you think," he hastened to say, finally meeting your eyes, his expression was pained.

"I'm not... I'm not breaking up with you, but..." He trailed off, obviously searching for words. You waited, your heart still racing in your chest. He looked so very vulnerable standing there, so unlike the confident, composed frontman you were used to on stage. "I just... Fuck, I don't know how to say this," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I feel like I've been a terrible boyfriend lately. Like, I haven't been here for you. Not really." He glanced up at you; his eyes were riddled with guilt.

"And it's been eating at me." Your heart went out to him when he was so torn up. You took a step closer and reached out, gently taking his hand in yours.

"Noah, what are you talking about?" you asked softly and tightened your grip on his hand. "You're not a bad boyfriend."

He gave a harsh laugh and shook his head. "Yes, I am," he persisted in a thick voice. "I've been so wrapped up in the band, in the new album, in fucking everything, that I've barely been around. I feel like I'm always distracted, like my mind's always somewhere else even when I'm home, and that's not fair to you."

He glanced away, swallowing hard, and you saw his jaw clench with his attempt to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to break through. "You deserve someone who's actually there for you. Someone who can give you the attention and time you need. And right now, I'm just... I'm not that guy.".

A tear escaped the corner of his eye, and your heart broke at the sight of it. Noah had always been the strong one, the one that held everything together, and seeing him so vulnerable, so broken, was almost too much to bear. Without thinking, you reached up, gently brushing the tear away with your thumb.

"Noah," you whispered, your voice soft yet firm. "You're enough. You're more than enough."

He shook his head, looking away as if not able to believe you. "I have barely been at home in the past weeks. I missed so many things that were important to you and I have let you down over and over again, and—"

"You haven't let me down," you cut him off, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. "I know how hard you're working. I see everything you're doing and I understand. I get it Noah, I know how much pressure you're under with the band, with the new album and I'm not expecting you to be perfect. I don't need you to be here 24/7. I just need you, Noah. However you come."

He stared at you searching your face for something, or maybe reassurance, maybe hope in. "I feel like I've been so absent. Like I've failed you too many times."

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his face in your hands.

"You haven't failed me. You've never failed me," you said in a quiet, hushed voice. "I know things have been tough lately, and I know you've been busy. But I'm not going anywhere, Noah. I'll wait. I'll always wait for you, because you are worth waiting for."

Again, his beautiful brown eyes welled up with tears, but this time he didn't fight it. A couple fell loosely and you softly wiped away each one as it slipped down his cheeks.

"I love you," he whispered, shaking. "I just… I don't want to lose you."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with all the love you felt for the man standing in front of you. "You're not going to lose me, Noah" you promised. Your voice was steady, sure. "I love you too, more than anything".

He closed his eyes, puffing out a trembling breath as he leaned into your touch. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close while he tightly hugged you, his face buried in your shoulder as he let out a deep, shaky sigh.

You didn't say anything, just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of his confession hanging in the air between them. But as moments dragged by, you could feel the tension in his body melt away, his pain replaced by relief and comfort.

"I'm sorry," he whispered after a while, his voice muffled against your skin. "For everything."

"You don't have to apologize," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

"We'll figure it out. Together." He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you saw the light return to his eyes. It was faint, but it was there-a glimmer of hope, of love, of the man you knew so well.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with appreciation. "For everything."

You smiled, leaned up and pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

"Always," you whispered against his mouth.

Noah's fingers tightened around yours, his eyes steady now, no longer clouded with doubt.

"I don't know how I got so lucky," he whispered, raw in his voice yet full of sincerity.

You didn't get lucky," I said, with a soft, hard smile. "We chose each other. And I'm still choosing you."

Noah smiled softly back at me. He did choose you. And he was so damn glad he did.

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #bad omens

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