#getting some of my muscle memory for painting back I don't want to breathe in case I jinx it
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oddestishottest · 25 days ago
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spacesquidlings · 1 year ago
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Don't You Worry Your Pretty Little Mind
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Summary: With his lover bedridden after a battle gone awry, Astarion finds himself acting as her nurse, comforting her as best as he can, giving in to many of her whims. And despite all his theatrics, there is no one she wants by her side more than him.
Pairing: Astarion x Tav
Warnings/Tags: Hurt/Comfort, mostly comfort, fluff, some suggestive mentions, mild description of acid-based/burning wound, references to pain (nothing graphic)
Taglist<3: @spacebarbarianweird
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The sharp smell of medicinal herbs burned in her nose, wafting over her as the pillows beneath her head and neck were readjusted once more. Pain followed fast on its heels, a phantom compared to what she’d felt earlier, before she’d blacked out entirely.
“How’s that, darling?” Astarion’s nimble fingers prodded at the pillows, fluffing them as best as he could without disturbing her. He drew her from her memories, from the blinding pain that had sent her into unconsciousness.
She whined, wrinkling her nose as another wave of smell hit her, the ointments smeared across her wounds seeping through the bandages wrapped around them. It burned as she breathed it in, daggers piercing the inside of her nose and scratching at the back of her throat. Pain radiated up her side and she shifted, nearly gagging as the smell grew stronger.
“Hurts,” was all she could manage, her voice cracking from the effort.
He huffed, crossing his arms and stepping back to examine his work. “I think that’s the best you’re going to get, my love. As much as I wish to, I cannot turn the bed into clouds.”
“Thank you for trying,” she murmured, barely stifling a groan as she shifted. 
She kept trying to find a comfortable position and yet she could find none. No matter how she lay she could not take the pressure off of all her wounds, and the pure frustration of it all made her eyes burn, angry tears pooling in the creases of her eyes. It painted the world in quicksilver and moonbeams, and yet she could find no comfort in the facsimile of the calm of the night.
“Don’t cry, please.” Astarion’s voice quivered, his brow drawing together. Somehow his skin grew paler, blanching at the sight of her tears. “Please, darling. You’re scaring me.”
She sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away, hissing in pain as her body grew taut, muscles and skin tight from the burns she’d sustained. Her bottom lip quivered, a sob caught in her throat, too weak to even wail.
“Oh my darling,” Astarion cooed, voice soft as feather-down. His hands hovered above her, as if hesitant to touch her. “You’re going to be okay.”
She whimpered. Was she? Was she truly going to be okay? She wanted to reach for him, but useless as she was, she could not even raise her hands to wipe her face, let alone hold him.
She watched as he seemed to come to some sort of resolution, his fingers delicately lowering to brush the tears from her eyes. Her vision cleared for the barest of moments before more tears trekked down her cheeks, the salt stinging where it seeped into her bandages.
“You’re going to get through this.” He brushed back loose strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek, caught in the ointment smeared on her skin. “You’re strong, my love. You were strong enough to survive such powerful magic. You’ll survive this.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. Although she’d survived the initial attack, she didn’t know if she was going to make it through the after-effects.
She hadn’t been thinking when it had all happened, shoving a child out of the way of their assailant, only to be swathed in burning pain. There had been no thoughts of putting up a shield, of casting a spell to push the attacker back. There had only been the thread of panic that had burst in her mind, her body moving before her mind could catch up.
When it had first washed over her she’d thought it fire, but then it had become worse. So terribly worse.
She’d learned, once she’d awoke, covered in the stinking ointment and bandaged, that it had been acid. A horrible homemade concoction that had very nearly killed her from its potency.
But she could not find it in herself to regret it, not really. She had managed to survive, but that child would not have. And her stepping in the way of the attack had been enough of a distraction for Astarion to make a killing blow.
Although she doubted she would make it through the consequences of her actions. Namely the reeking ointment and the near-unbearable pain.
As if reading her thoughts, Astarion clicked his tongue. “Don’t be so dramatic. You can survive anything, darling. Even a little homemade potion.”
She huffed, looking away. It hurt to speak, and yet she couldn’t help herself as she snapped back at him. “It’s a lot more than a homemade potion.”
“Well, it was homemade. He was a master artificer and wizard. I don’t think he bought it from a market.”
Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would staunch the flow of tears. “It hurts so much, Astarion.”
When he responded his voice was quieter, softer. “I know, darling.”
“I feel like I’m being burned alive.”
He didn’t answer this time, not at first. Silence descended, heavy, uncomfortable as her bandages.
It was more unbearable than the lingering sting of the acid, and she opened her eyes, the world limned in silver once more, searching for her beloved in the little room.
His eyes were wide, the crimson of his irises stark against the pallor of his skin. She could see the shimmering silver caught in the alabaster of his lashes, the gold of the firelight catching in his own tears.
“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke fiercely, each word as strong as a blow as he clenched his jaw. She wouldn’t have heard the quiver in his voice if she didn’t know him so well, didn’t know when he was trying to keep something hidden. “You’re going to get through this, and then we’re going on a long vacation.”
Her heart twisted, clenched in the grip of sorrow. “Astarion. My love, I’m so sorry, I-”
He shook his head, his hand delicately cupping her cheek. His own tears streaked down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away. “Don’t apologise. Just get through this, got it?”
“Okay. Okay, I will.” Her heart squeezed all the tighter, aching, struggling to beat. 
She tried to reach up, tried to hold his face, but she’d hardly raised her hand more than an inch before a ripple of pain made her gasp, fingers trembling like the branches of a sapling in a storm.
Astarion chuckled, lowering his head until the tips of her fingers brushed against his cheek. “Is this what you were hoping for, darling?”
“Thank you.” Her bottom lip was quivering again, her heart in her throat. Sadness was a vice that held her tight, nameless, all-consuming, drowning out even the smell of the ointment. She hurt so much, and she had hurt him. In her callousness she had hurt her most beloved and she didn’t know how to fix it, how to make him smile.
With a sigh Astarion lifted his head. His lips twitched, one brow arching. “What’s on your mind?”
“I just… I…” She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t figure out how to say it.
She felt like she was crumpling, formless and weak.
He shushed her gently, brushing the pads of his fingers against her cheeks. “Hush. It’s okay, my love. It’s okay.” Another twitch of his lips. “Wait to thank me until after I’ve changed your bandages.”
Shuddering, she looked away, feeling worse than helpless. “I look horrible, don’t I?”
“No you don’t.” A pause, his eyes searching hers. “It doesn’t look good, but you could never look horrible.”
An entire new wave of misery washed over her, and she wished she could still be unconscious, unaware of this pain and the knowledge that she looked horrible.
“Be honest,” she sniffed. “I look like something from a child’s nightmare.”
“Oh please.” He rolled his eyes. “Now you really are being dramatic.”
She whimpered, scowling as best as she could.
Sighing, Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, toying with the blankets, readjusting them over and over. Even so, his eyes never left hers, earnest and bright. “You’re hurt. You don’t look horrible, you look like someone who’s injured. You look like someone who needs to be taken care of until you’re better.”
Fangs flashing in the light, he gave her a half-moon smile. “And luckily for you, you’ve been blessed with someone as devoted as me, who will be here until you’re all better. Even though you’re being very vain.”
She frowned. “If I could throw a pillow at you, I would.”
“Well thank the gods you don’t have the strength right now.”
He leaned closer, fixing her pillows again. “Beneath all those bandages is the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” He paused, smirking. “Well, second most beautiful. After me of course.”
“Oh of course.”
“You’re no child’s nightmare, darling.” The corners of his lips hiked higher. “In fact, I’d wager you’re a child’s hero now.”
She snorted. “Oh, I’m so sure.”
He poked her shoulder gently, beaming. “I am. I bet that kid’s already off telling all her friends.”
“She’s probably forgotten by now.”
“Oh no.” he gave a theatrical shake of his head. “No, certainly not. Rumour has probably spread that there’s a new hero on the sword coast.”
The corners of her lips tipped up, tugged by laughter bubbling in her throat. “Oh please.”
“The blade of frontiers had better move over,” he continued, mischief twinkling in his eyes like entire galaxies of stars. “There’s a new hero protecting Faerûn now.”
She giggled, shaking her head as best as she could. “I’m no hero! Besides, what would I even be called?”
Astarion tapped his cheek, eyes skyward as he hummed thoughtfully. “Now that’s a good question.”
“See? You can’t be a hero without a cool name.”
“How about ‘protector of the most beautiful vampire spawn?’ Or ‘the prettiest saviour of children from acid?’” He brushed the back of his index finger over her brow, smirking a little too broadly. His fangs flashed before disappearing again as he spoke, mischief in his words. “Or, and I think this one is the best, ‘the fool of faerûn.’”
She gaped at him, mouth falling open.
“You know, since you ran into an acid attack.” He shrugged. “You got the kid out of the way, but you didn’t get yourself out of the way in time.”
She wrinkled her nose as she answered, equal parts annoyed and amused. “You are so lucky, Astarion.”
“To have you by my side?” He stroked her hair, smirking. He knew perfectly well that was not what she was referring to. “I most certainly am lucky, darling.”
“You’re lucky I can barely raise my arms, or else you’d have a pillow in your face.”
“Yes well, you did kind of deserve that.” He tapped the top of her head, his expression growing more serious. “You had me terrified. I thought I’d lost you.”
His words were sobering, and she no longer felt the glimmer of mirth she had before. She sank into the pillows, dropping her gaze. “Astarion, I-”
“It’s already happened.” He cut her off before she could finish her apology, his brows drawing low as he continued. “I want you to focus on healing, on getting better. That’s the only apology I’m willing to accept.”
She swallowed, finding his gaze. “Okay.”
“And just as I said, once you are better, we’re going on vacation.”
It was so mundane, to talk of going on a vacation. A trip meant for relaxation, for having fun, where the highest stakes were finding delicious new food in an unfamiliar place. The sudden segue felt like something out of a dream, surreal when compared to her most recent memory, the wall of blackness in her mind after the rush of burning pain.
A giggle bubbled from her lips, earning a bemused look from Astarion. “What’s so funny? You think me incapable of a vacation?”
“No, that’s not it at all.” In fact it was all too easy to imagine him lounging around all day, the picture of indolence as he languidly sauntered down unfamiliar streets, as he stretched out on some sumptuous bed in a rented room.
“Well don’t keep me in suspense, darling.” He laid on his side, propping his head up in his hand. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
She giggled again, feeling ridiculous. “It’s nothing, really. It just feels strange to be talking of going on vacation, especially when I’m here covered in this gross ointment.”
He clicked his tongue. “That ‘gross ointment’ is going to help speed along your recovery.” He sniffed, nose wrinkling. “Although it is not exactly a pleasant smell.”
“I want a bath,” she whined. “I want to feel clean and smell pretty.”
“Once you are well enough, my love.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “I will give you the most luxurious bath you can dream of.”
Sighing, she imagined it in her mind. Warm water and flower petals and bath oils perfuming the air, helping her feel alive once again. “Do you think you could do that when we go on vacation, too?”
A chuckle, a darkening of his eyes. “There is plenty I plan to do, once you’re better.”
“Including a bath?” She ignored the somersault of her belly, the heat suddenly blooming at the apex of her thighs. Now really was not the time, not when she could barely stand the blankets that were draped over her.
“Yes,” he drawled. “The most splendid of baths every day for you, my dear.”
She relaxed as best she could against the pillows, daydreaming once more of such a thing. Of feeling the warm heat of the water seeping into her bones, of fingers massaging her scalp, trailing lovingly down her back.
“We can do whatever you wish,” he murmured, his gaze softening. “So long as you get better. You have to promise me you’ll get better.”
“I promise. I’ll do my best.”
“Good.” Astarion sighed, toying with her hair. Just the sight of him was stronger than any balm or medicine. The slight curve of his lips as he smiled, relief stitching itself into his expression, more a comfort than any sleeping potion.
He was still speaking, not that she heard even a word of it. Her mind couldn’t keep itself steady, flitting like hummingbird wings as the pain ebbed and flowed through her. Astarion had to pinch her cheek once, twice, before she could focus her thoughts, like trying to coax the ocean through the eye of a needle.
“Have I lost you, darling?” He chuckled, smoothing his hand over the sting where he’d pinched her. “I would have thought you would listen raptly as I spoke.”
She managed a roll of her eyes, knowing he was doing little more than teasing her. Distracting her, perhaps, to take the edge off of the unrelenting burn of her body.
“Forgive me, my love,” she rasped, batting her lashes as swiftly as she could in the moment. “It’s just hard to focus, even on your limitless charm.”
His brows knit together, lips pursing. She caught a flash in his eyes, worry quickly masked before she could begin to pick at it.
“You should rest, darling,” he murmured. “You’ll feel a little better once you wake.”
Astarion made to stand, the bed shifting as his weight vanished, and a ripple of pain went through her side, her chest. Not only her body screaming from the movement, little more than a jostle and yet enough to irritate the weeping wounds beneath her bandages, but her heart screaming too. Pain lancing in her chest, her heartbeat turning to the quiver of a loosed bowstring.
What would she do without him? How could she stand the anger of the poison that had flayed her skin? How could she try to brave the darkness of her unconsciousness? All without him?
A whimper fled from her lips, drawing Astarion’s gaze. The lines in his brow only deepened, and he sank back into the bed. A question hung on his lips, his hands reaching towards her, hovering, hesitancy making his face look wan.
“Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Please.”
The anxiety in his face fell away, like the last of a stone wall crumbling to ruin. Relief, and no small amount of mischief, remained, shining like light through stained glass, refracting rainbows across the ceiling and walls.
“I’m honoured that you want me close, love, but I’m not going far.” There was laughter in his voice, making it lilt like the opening of a song. “I’ll be back in less than a moment.”
With a swiftness that sometimes scared her, Astarion moved across the room, the sound of glass clicking as he sorted through little bottles and vials on their dresser. There were perfumes, lotions, oils, a pretty pink nail polish he’d presented to her only a few days before the attack.
She wanted to ask what he was doing, but in another moment he was back, wiggling a bottle no thicker than her pinky, filled with an oily-looking, iridescent liquid.
“To help you sleep,” he said before she could ask. “It’s supposed to numb some of the pain so you can rest.”
She tried to sit up, only to cry out as a thousand daggers stabbed at her, as her skin drew taut beneath her bandages. She collapsed back, wincing at the red stains blooming on some of her bandages.
“Darling, I fear that is the exact opposite of trying to get better.” Astarion tsked softly, sliding one hand behind her head, flicking the cap of the bottle open with the other.
“I was going to take the medicine.” She had to draw in lungfuls of air to push past the stabbing throb across her body, steadying the sudden surge of nausea in her belly.
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. The arch of his brow and the quirk of his mouth made it seem like she’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world, and it made her want to pout.
“You’re so impatient,” he chided, bringing the bottle to her lips. “Obviously I was going to help you with it. The more you move the harder it is for you to heal.”
She could say nothing as she drank the potion, fighting not to gag as the oily substance slid down her throat. It tasted bitter, and it coated the inside of her mouth like grease.
Setting the empty bottle to the side, Astarion grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He patted her head, not yet done teasing her. “Imagine how much easier it would have been if you’d just waited for me the first time.”
“Are you saying you’ll take care of me? You’re going to nurse me back to health?”
He chuckled. “Of course, darling. I’m terribly keen to play as your doctor.”
“Oh Astarion, don’t tease me so much,” she whined. “I can hardly think of a clever response right now.”
“I don’t mind.” He tapped the tip of her nose, unscathed from the attack. “That pretty blush of yours is all I need.”
“Astarion.”
He lifted his hands quickly, palms out in surrender. “Alright, alright, that’s enough for now. I’ll leave you to your rest.”
Panic seized her and she gasped. “My love, wait. Wait!”
She reached her arms out as far as she could, making a grabbing motion with her hands. Astarion’s brows rose, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Oh? And what’s this?”
Whining, she stretched her arms out a little further. “I want you.”
“So needy.” His tone was chiding, but his smile only grew. “Do you need me to continue comforting you, darling?”
“Astarion, please.” She couldn’t spar with him now, and so she was at the mercy of his teasing. She pushed out her bottom lip, pouting as best she could, giving him her biggest doe eyes. “I need you.”
“And how do you need me?”
If she could have ground her teeth she would have. But as it stood she could not, so she settled for a wrinkle of her nose, her cheeks burning from the heat he’d coaxed into them. He was smiling far too broadly, his eyes full of mirth.
With a sigh she said, “I need you to stay with me. I need you to hold me, my beloved. Please.”
“Oh my.” She could see the faintest touch of colour in his cheeks, like the first hint of the blushing dawn in the dove-grey of the morning sky. “Well how could I ever say no to such a request?”
Happiness softened the edges of her ire as Astarion tugged at the blankets, carefully slipping into the bed beside her. She sank to the side, his body beckoning her close, wincing only barely as he pressed against her side. He draped an arm loosely over her stomach, no heavier than another blanket, and yet she felt safer because of it, warmer than any blanket could make her feel.
“How is this?” He murmured softly against her ear, his breath tangling in her unbound hair. “Better?”
“This is very nice,” she said, just as quietly. “Thank you, my love.”
“Do you think you can sleep?” His voice wobbled, revealing the fear that had been hiding beneath his joking tone. “It will help with your healing.”
“But I only just got comfy,” she whined, not caring how pitiful she sounded.
A snort, cool fingers brushing back her hair. His breath gathered against her skin as he lowered his head, sighing. “That is so you can sleep, darling.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep.”
“If I’m distracting you, it may be better if I go-”
“No!” It would have been a shriek if she’d been able to shriek right now. As it was it sounded like a garbled rasp, and Astarion had to press his face to her neck to muffle his laughter.
“Don’t go. Please love, I want you to stay.” She didn’t feel right without him close, felt like she was on the verge of dying. She wanted to cling to him, to hold fast, finding comfort in the acid of his comments and the bergamot clinging to his skin.
“I’ll stay.” He laid a gentle kiss to her neck, a stark difference to the teasing laughter from only seconds ago. “See? I have no plan to move.”
“Really?”
“Why would I, when such a beautiful, needy little thing is in my arms.”
She turned her head away so he could not see the crimson staining her cheeks. She had no response, no clever rejoinder. She was terribly needy for his closeness, but he didn’t have to say it like that.
“You really must rest, though,” he continued, pressing another kiss to her throat. “How else will you get better so we can take a vacation?”
“You seem very set on the idea of this vacation,” she mused. Already she could feel the medicine working, the pain beginning to ebb, dulling breath by breath. “What do you even want to do?”
“What don’t I want to do, darling?” He sighed, stroking her hair. “I want to lounge and sleep in late. And perhaps we can visit a spa; we both need it after this.”
“A spa sounds nice.” She imagined it, sleeping the morning away, skilled hands massaging the knots from her back and arms, floral-scented serums and creams and oils pressed to her face, bringing her skin to life.
“And shopping,” he continued, just as lost in his daydreams as she. “So much shopping. We must refresh our wardrobes, darling. It’s all very…” She could picture the wrinkle of his nose without even looking at him. “Last season. We must be ahead of all the rest.”
“I’ll put my trust in you, then,” she murmured. “I’m sure you know what is best.”
She wouldn’t mind some new gowns, if she were honest. She would need something to make her feel pretty again after she was healed.
Astarion hummed, combing fingers through her hair. “Have you fallen asleep already?”
“No,” she answered, not feeling tired in the least. Now that the pain was fading she felt wide awake, energized.
“Well you should,” he admonished. “It will certainly put me at ease knowing you’re resting.”
“But I’m not tired, my love.”
He sighed, undoubtedly rolling his eyes. “What can I do to help?”
She hummed, wracking her mind for something that could help, that would lull her into the gentle darkness of unconsciousness.
Before she had met him, she would sometimes fall asleep to the faint sounds of music beyond her windows, or she would hum her favourite melodies until she could not hum them any longer.
“Could you…” She licked her lips, twisting as far away from his gaze as she could as a new wave of heat washed over her. “Could you sing for me?”
The silence that fell from her question stretched long, and she feared he would laugh, or tell her that no he could not. But then, soft as a caress, Astarion asked “you wish for me to sing?”
She swallowed, her flushing cheeks be damned. She wanted to meet his gaze as she again made her shameless request, a small comfort that had helped her in the years before she’d met him.
“Will you please sing for me?” He was close enough now for her to take his free hand, even as tremors still quivered through hers. “Please, my love? It really would help me sleep.”
For a moment he searched her gaze, his expression serious. Soft light gilded his features, twinning in the strands of his hair, painting the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. His eyes seemed to glow, and she had the strangest feeling that she was being observed by a deity, a powerful, celestial being not of this world.
Her heart ached, and she held his hand tighter, reminding herself that he was not an ethereal being of light and dreams. He was real, he was here with her, he was not going anywhere.
Astarion’s eyes flicked down, to their intertwined hands, seeming to come to some sort of resolution.
“You are so terribly lucky I find you so wonderful,” he sighed, lashes fanning over his cheeks as he closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t sing for just anyone, you know.”
She gingerly brought his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I think I would hate it if you did. I want you to sing for only me.”
His eyes opened, his expression tender despite how he had bemoaned such a task. “Any requests, my dear?”
“A lullaby, please.” She held fast to his hand, clutching it as surely as a child clutched a beloved doll. “Any lullaby, whatever your favourites are.”
He mulled it over, stroking her hair absently. “Alright, I have a few in mind.”
His voice quivered at first, uncertainty staining his voice. The words tremulous, quiet, yet as he continued, seeming to realize this was not an elaborate ruse to tease him, he grew louder, more confident. The faintest touch of colour stained his cheeks, but it could have been the burning red of the sky at sunset for how it ignited warmth in her own heart.
At first she felt nothing, energy still buzzing like static along her nerves and sizzling in her veins. But the wispy tendrils of fatigue slowly crept over her, Astarion’s words coming in and out of focus, blurring together. She was certain he was switching to Elven every now and again, the songs he was singing old, excavated from a corner of his memory draped in cobwebs and dust.
She yawned, her eyelids growing heavy. It became harder to keep them open, and eventually she just gave in, sighing in response to Astarion’s teasing laughter as his fingertips skipped across her brow.
“Are you asleep yet?”
“Not yet,” she grumbled, scrunching her nose.
“I guess I have no choice, but to keep going.”
She hummed in approval, earning another quiet huff of laughter before he continued, beginning a new song she did not recognize.
She wouldn’t have said he was the very best, and although she didn’t recognize every song he chose, she could tell some of it was off-key, the notes too sharp or flat. But she didn’t care, finding comfort in the off-tune lilt of his voice. It was a melody just for her, carrying her like white-capped waves towards sleep.
Her fingers found their way to his shirt, twisting into the cream coloured fabric, snagging on the ties that held it closed. She could not move enough to tuck herself beneath his chin the way she liked best, but she could hold onto him like this at least. She could anchor herself, no longer lost to the pain of her wounds.
Astarion’s voice blurred, words melting into each other until she could not recognize a single one, her mind muddled as a turbid river. All her thoughts turned to nonsense, but for one, shining bright as a star, holding fast in the cloudiness of her mind.
That she would get better. That she had to get better. She couldn’t let him sing her lullabies for nothing. She had to make up for the worry she was causing him.
She might have said the thoughts aloud, she really wasn’t sure. Her body was growing fuzzy, the world around her melting in and out of focus.
What she was sure of was that Astarion paused for the briefest of moments, brought his lips to her brow. He murmured against her skin, that he was holding her to that promise. That he would need her to get better so she could help him come up with a name for her new heroic persona while on their languid holiday.
She wanted to promise that she would, if only because she loved him so much she couldn’t bear upsetting him. But Astarion started singing again, and his voice suddenly sounded very, very far away, like an echo behind glass.
And then she was gone, lost to sleep, one step closer to healing, just as she had promised.
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mslanna · 1 year ago
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The Devil's Own
Chapter 10 of Be My Guest now up on AO3
Time stretches when you wait for you man to return from the war. It also stretches when he's finally back - or those thirty seconds better be just a taste.
Tav wakes refreshed and still flush against the incubus. If Haarlep got bored during their nap, they don't show.
"The House is all ours," they announce.
Rubbing sleep from their eyes, Tav yawns. "How long do such battles last? I don't want to get caught finally replacing the central pieces of the Feast Hall with dummies."
"Long enough. And if I were you," Haarlep pushes the human away a little, "I'd be much more concerned about what furniture surrounds you when Raphael returns than what he catches you doing."
Tav's ears burn, but not as hot as the unsatisfied memories of the devil's departure. "Better get the Feast Hall over with then."
"Oh, but it is a delightful notion." The incubus laughs as Tav pushes away and climbs of the bed to dress. "A location open to all sides and all the delectable dishes and drinks. Silverware clattering, the legs of table and chairs scraping over the tiles. Don't be shy about it."
Devils have no concept of privacy. Something Tav struggles with but they are willing to compromise. Not enough to get fucked on the table of the Feast Hall with all of House of Hope watching though. No. They beat the image down with a stick. Not gonna happen. Probably.
The House is eerily quiet. Eternal debtors make few noises and most hide somewhere, trying to enjoy the break. Most huddle though, crushed by the weight of guilt their actions cause them. Tav takes a deep, liberated breath though. All the fiends strutting around were encroaching, like hippos occupying your home.
After rearranging the centre piece in the Feast Hall, Tav races through the place, running their finger tips over the walls, columns and paintings.
"Lick them," Haarlep calls though they don't join the frenzy.
Tav doesn't lick anything. They turn wild circles with their arms thrown wide. For the first time in a long time they feel light and free, exhilarated by the prospect of their continued existence. After annoying the new archivist for a while Tav dances on. They dip into their own room to freshen up before they return to the boudoir.
"Water-battle?" they ask Haarlep. "If you bind a small towel up like this, makes a really soggy weapon." They wave the towel in question around.
"Finally ready to drop your panties?" Haarlep teases.
"In your wildest dreams!" Tav smacks the incubus on the ass with their towel and races for the pool. Their pained shout blubbers to the surface unheard when their ass connects painfully with the shallow floor of the pool. They sputter to the surface and wipe the water from their face.
The clear view last for a second before Haarlep joins them and Tav fights a loosing battle from the start. The incubus can use their wings like shovels to pour water over the human. Their tail gives them another unfair advance and they keep pulling Tav under the surface with it.
It's still the most fun Tav can remember having physically since they arrived. To break the cycle of violence, Tav belts out a shanty which leads to hilarious fake boating until their muscles are tired. Hooking their elbows over the edge of the pool, Tav lolls their head back and closes their eyes. They float, kicking their legs leisurely and catching their breath.
"How long do you plan to do this?" Haarlep asks.
Tav doesn't look. Unlike them, the incubus has forgone all clothing to frolic in the water. "Some time. And I consider having my scalp scraped off by the fountains afterwards."
"You do you." Splashing announces that Haarlep left the pool. "But don't dare coming to my bed wet. The only way panties are soaked there is with a personal touch."
"Still dreaming, I see." Tav lets out a content sigh. Without devils to crowd the place, the House of Hope is a great playground. They kick up warm water with their feet and watch the silver droplets splash back into the pool. Tav is killing time and they know it. But they are unwilling to admit why and how urgent it feels, that time pass.
"Getting dry and something to eat," Tav finally calls. Haarlep managed to occupy themself before their arrival they will be fine now.
After their return, Haarlep forces Tav to finish the game of lanceboard before they agree to anything else. Nervous energy builds up as the paladin sits through the ordeal and inevitable defeat.
"Rematch?" the incubus asks.
Tav sighs. "If I have to sit still another minute, I may throw the board over the balcony. And the table. And myself."
"Well, I can't let that happen." Haarlep stands and offers Tav a hand. "Let's see if we find something to get that fizzling zeal simmered down."
"What if he doesn't come back." Tav stands rooted to the floor. "What then?"
"Then my dear, we are truly fucked. And not in the fun way." Haarlep tugs them on. "I am pretty sure the one thing to garner a temporary alliance from the hells is a failed attempt to rule them all. There won't be pieces big enough to see with you eyes left of us. Plus, your soul goes straight to Mephistopheles."
Tav swallows hard. "I don't want it to."
"You're not alone in that, my sweet. Let me assure you that there are devils out there fighting to prevent exactly that. Well, one devil at least."
"What abut you? You're just doing your job, aren't you? You can go back to Mephistopheles."
"I wish devils were as simple as you." The incubus sighs. "With Raphael gone, I have limited value to the arch devil. And he certainly doesn't want a carbon copy of his son around. And if he does, not for reasons that I will find pleasant."
"Oh." Tav sits down cross-legged on the bed. "But if Raphael wins and kills his father, what then? You are not a spy any longer, but he can't draw Mephistopheles' ire any longer either. What will he do?"
"Now that," Haarlep reaches down and lifts Tav's chin so they look up at them, "that is where you come in, don't you think?"
Tav looks up into the black and cold eyes, similar to those of Raphael, off enough in their colouration to be distinct. It makes sense, suddenly. The kindness. The patience. The care. Because who in this house will speak up for Haarlep once Raphael decided he doesn't have to put up with the incubus any longer.
"What can I say, I like being alive." Haarlep lets go of their chin. "I'm not sure you will understand, looking at all the stunts you pulled."
"I – I like to be alive." I think. Tav doesn't add the last bit. "Sometimes being alive is just very exhausting. Everything is complicated and people shimmy around truth with half-lies and nobody ever says what they mean."
"And you saved all of them still."
"I live in their world, what alternative is there?"
"Make it your world of course, dumbass." The incubus shakes their head in resignation. "Lead, rule, make the laws. Have the others live in a world tailored to your needs. You didn't even think abut it, did you?"
Tav shakes their head.
"Short-sighted for even a human. Come on, let's forget about your utter folly for a while. I'm sure it's to come up soon enough. And don't look at me like that," the incubus adds. "I don't not like you. In my own way."
It is easier to just go back to merrymaking than thinking about this, so Tav does. In the curtained capsule of the boudoir, pain and problems are far away. The levity returns and they throw themself into it.
As they bellow the second chorus to 'Drums of Daggerford' jumping wildly on the huge bed, the curtain is thrown open and Raphael steps in. Tav forgets their next words and bounces clumsily onto the mattress, lims going different directions. The devil is fully armoured and dirty.
By the hells he is covered in dust and grime, gore and blood that dried to almost black sports on the armour. He sends Haarlep from the room with a nod of his head and the incubus leaves giggling with the biggest leer on their face.
Tav scrambles to get back to their feet as the devil approaches the bed dragging the smell of death and sulphur along. Though his shoulders curve in a gentle slump, the devil's black-hole eyes burn bright and he doesn't take them off Tav for a moment.
A wild grin breaks over Tav's face and as soon as Raphael is within reach, they jump at him, wrapping their arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist. "To the victor go the spoils of war," they breathe and lean back into the devil's arms wrapping around them in turn.
"Oh, I will spoil you." The words are rough, but more of a promise than a threat.
They lean into the kiss so eagerly, their mouths clash and Tav's teeth rattle. They ignore it, drunk on the taste of Raphael and the demanding presence of his tongue searching their mouth. Bits of armour bite into Tav's flesh but they press closer still. Raphael tastes of fire and dust and the high adrenaline of fighting.
A moan escapes from between their lips that leave no space for breathing. Pent up desire breaks open and deepens the desperation. Tav's hands reach of the back of the devil's head, his hair, horns – each a lever to pull him closer.
They grind against Raphael and when with a sudden the poking armour vanishes, they break the kiss. "Cheater," they breathe, without stopping to move. Raphael only grins in anticipation and runs a hand around their bare ass, fingers slipping between their legs from behind.
At the hint of contact Tav moans and buries their face in his neck. The skin is salty with a trace of dirt. Tav eats it up, digging their teeth into the red flesh when Raphael moves his hand even deeper.
It takes little to tilt their hips and align their entrance over the hard cock. Still the devil cups their ass and holds it too high for penetration, just the tip teases. Tav digs their teeth into the devil's ear. "Spoil me!" they hiss and press down demanding satisfaction.
Tav's own greed takes over easily as Raphael gave in to his. Foreplay and coy build-up are abandoned in pursuit of releasing the pent up want. The thought of feeling Raphael inside them makes their insides wet with anticipation.
Raphael complies with a hungry grunt, slipping in fast and deep. Drunk on desire, the cock doesn't have to hit the spot. Tav leans back and the devil drops them onto the bed, running hand up their chest as he moves.
Tav leans into the motion, skin sensitive with yearning for clawed fingers that rake cuts into their skin. They arch up against the devil selfishly and Raphael answers with equally selfish thrusts for release.
Delirious with finally having Raphael all for themself, undiluted and raw, the mere feeling of the hard ridges moving back and forth side them, Tav's desire rises like a tide. Their interlocked ankles keep the devil from moving out too far, keeping the friction ever raking over their sensitive spots.
Tav pulls Raphael into another hungry kiss, locking their lips over his and sucking at his tongue as if it would move his cock deeper. In a manner of speaking, it works. Raphael quickens the pace, driven by pent up lust and diverted desires. With the real Tav finally writhing under his body, the devil lets himself go into their insistent pull.
And Tav cradles real flesh instead of dreamlike memories, memories of second-hand arousal that now wash over them in full force. It is enough to push them over the edge and their eager clenching drags Raphael right along.
Overall it doesn't take long. The naked greed is sated in a short exchange of sheer hunger. The noise of ecstasy breaks apart between their lips that do not part. Tav relaxes backwards and takes Raphael with them.
For a moment they lie breathing hard with their bodies intricately entangled. Tav runs their fingers through the devil's hair that is still coated with dust.
Then Raphael pushes himself up. The fire in his eyes burns low, taking in the sweaty body below him with hunger and satisfaction. "I think we may have to repeat this with a little less – urgency."
Tav nods still dazed from their ecstasy. The devil didn't pull out and though his cock is slack, the thought of it rigid and moving again, makes them swallow hard. They take Raphael’s face between their hands and kiss him gently, because they can.
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kalira · 2 years ago
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(navigatorsghost here on main btw) For the writing game I have to ask what's the deal with Mates and Memories, just because omg, Van Helsing?! Thank you!
Van Helsing! Which I wrote a little for back in 2010, and . . . never again. XD (I cleaned up one of the bits from back then earlier this year and posted it, first thing I ever have for the fandom; I don't know if there's anything else salvageable - or, rather, that I feel like reworking. XP)
BUT that process did make me think about it again, and I rewatched the movie (still excellent; I love Roxburgh's Dracula to bits, he's so fucking strange and Extra and delightful), more than once, and. . .
Mates and Memories is a WIP that is for a Small Fandom Fest prompt (which I obviously missed this round, whoop; perhaps I'll get it done for a future round? X'D), left in 2012.
The general premise is that Dracula isn't dead, and Van Helsing is still a werewolf, post-canon (prompt left open 'writer's choice how'), and at some point under a full moon, looking for his mate. . .
(I have also done entirely too much research for this; I have scrutinised forestry maps, elevation maps, conservation records, and a handful of other things for this very important background setting information for Van Fucking Helsing monster smut. Hello, it me, I am Like This.)
My spin for that 'how' is that as Van Helsing isn't exactly human to begin with, he wasn't quite a proper werewolf, either - which means a) the cure didn't work on him properly, and b) Dracula was ripped to hell harder than anything else could manage, but not actually killed.
Also, as a still-somewhat-werewolf . . . Van Helsing isn't going back to the Vatican. For some reason. Fast-forward to winter, and wolf mating season, and. . . >.> (Featuring monsterfucking, some dubcon on both sides tbh, Dracula being his Very Dramatically Extra Self (he is such fun to write, FYI), and hints at the History between Van Helsing and Dracula.)
Have a snippet below the cut! Snippet is from closer to what will be the end, in theory, after a huge gap of Things Needing To Be Written (including, you know, the actual smut and most of the point of the prompt).
Gabriel roared as his body reformed, bones crunching and muscles wrenching, shrinking back into something more familiar. He thrashed, falling back and away from chill, tacky skin, claws digging into the dirt a moment before they sank back into blunt nails.
He shuddered, pushing himself up on his aching knees - a throb, and then the ache faded . . . at least that one did - and-
A sinuous stretch beside him, both hellish red and ashy grey flesh fading into pale but human skin, and Gabriel twisted, falling backwards. ‟Fuck!” he breathed, eyes widening, flashes of the night twisting through his mind painted in heavy shadow and silvered moonlight.
Dracula laughed, lifting a hand and pulling a lock of his hair out of his face with his smallest finger, then tossing his head and meeting Gabriel’s eyes. ‟You’ve already done that.” he pointed out, rolling his shoulders. ‟Though you’re welcome to give it another try. Perhaps with less fur.”
A ragged gash torn out of his shoulder and the base of his neck slowly filled in as Gabriel watched, growing shallower and pulling together until there was nothing but unmarked skin. Gabriel swallowed, then licked his teeth, remembering the feeling of that flesh tearing beneath his teeth, muscle flexing as Dracula fought him.
Or. . .
No, he hadn’t . . . quite. He had fought, but-
‟You let me.” Gabriel said, rather than any of the other dozen things that wanted to spill from his lips.
Dracula looked . . . taken aback. Just for a moment. Then he laughed again, head falling back, and Gabriel tugged his legs in, frowning.
‟Ah, Gabriel.” Dracula grinned at him. ‟You never disappoint.” He paused, then arched his brows. ‟In any way, my old . . . friend.”
‟Friend.” Gabriel repeated. ‟I tried to kill you. I thought I had. How are you still alive?” he demanded.
Dracula rolled his shoulders. ‟You did kill me, once, Gabriel. Is that not enough for you? My, my.” His smile turned sharp, though his fangs were still hidden.
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sugarplanet · 2 years ago
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Instantly Overcome Hating Your Art and Stop Wasting Your Time In 3 Easy Steps
Throughout the fall, I've hit the proverbial reset button a few times hoping to start with a clean slate or the right foot in progressing my career and just being better at art. Still, it's easy to hit a plateau when you get wrapped up into one thing and neglect your portfolio, your idea moleskin, or your twitter (though I don't really want much to do with that last one these days). Despite the tone of this post so far, I can at least tell you that it's much better now than it was three or four years ago. One time, I'd stopped posting or drawing or speaking to people an entire year and it did no favors to my self-esteem or my muscle memory. Now, when I smack face first into a wall or feel like nothing I do is ever good enough, I have tools to react, retract, and reflect before I do something harmful, like impulsively ghost everyone or stop going to work. Here's some directions to get back on track:
1: Stop
If you find yourself saying mean things about your own art or feel like you're about to throw your painting against the wall or see something so beautiful on social media immediately followed by a train of people who have tons in milage/talent/popularity on you then you're going to have to press the pause button. Immediately stop whatever you're doing and take a deep breath. You'll have to build some serious discipline to do it but it's an invaluable skill to be able to cut off intrusive or harmful thoughts before they can stew and fog your brain any further. Go take a break and come back to your craft or task and after you've given energy to something else for a little while, you'll find you have more energy than before.
2: Turn Around
I find it a huge help to go over the basics (a lot) as a refresher regularly as when you take on something really complex you can get easily overwhelmed if your skill or tolerance for perspective and doing lineart by hand isn't seasoned enough. This is where going through the fundamentals or at least better researching your topic can help you troubleshoot the WHY and WHAT going on. If you're trying to draw a landscape from your imagination or with other art as a reference, you're going to need to do some thumbnails. If you need tigers or rhinos, go do some tracing and then some studies. If you can, try working on a different medium than what you were working with before; that bit of separation is going to help keep you from burning out again too fast and create some interest as well ("oooh color pencils, how exciting!") BONUS: Avoid doom scrolling through other artists! You'll want to save observation purely for intentional style studies rather than get stuck in the trap of comparing yourself to everyone.
3: Go Back
You'll have to go back at some point, especially if it's for your day job or for a client... But before you do, make sure you can check these off: > Feel better emotionally > More energized/inspired to take this on > Have a viable solution to my problem > Am proud of self and my work and don't think I suck If you can, great! Take it from the top. If not, maybe you need a little more rest (if you're still struggling emotionally) or maybe you need some more practice (if you're not satisfied with your solution yet). Repeating this process enough times will also help you bounce back from break-downs, burnouts, and blocks a lot quicker. I promise; if I can sit here and write this long, then you can absolutely make great things happen for yourself. :)
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shotowoki · 4 years ago
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PAIRING: shouto todoroki x fem!reader
WARNINGS: smut, oral (female receiving), it’s pretty much just vanilla sex if i’m honest, aged-up, first time
WORDCOUNT: 2.8k
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SYNOPSIS:
You had been dating Todoroki for a while now. And yet, you still hadn't taken things to the next level with him. Perhaps you were nervous, or maybe it was fear. After all, this was all new to you. What would it be like to lose your virginity to Todoroki, you wondered?  
Once again, you were back at the same spot as always. Your lips melting against Shouto's, his tongue gliding tenderly across yours. Even kisses like these had you feverish. From the gentle peck's he left along the nape of your neck to the more desperate ones. You were constantly left a nervous mess. Always getting lost in the way his plump lips came down in an open mouth kiss, capturing your lips one at a time before giving one a delicate tug.
And don't even get started on the way his hands felt in moments like these. His careful slender fingers caressing every inch of you. Gently, he would slip his hand from the small of your back to your thighs, resting himself there. Squeezing so slowly and lightly it felt almost as though he was teasing you each time. Without a doubt, you would feel goosebumps rise across your skin when his hand crept higher up your thighs, his fingers edging closer to your heat. And he would be so close, so close to touching you where you needed him most, but you could never go on. The knot in your stomach suddenly tightening as anxiety buried your body. Heart-thumping, you would lash out your hand to clutch his wrist, halting him in his tracks.
"Not ready, love?" is all he would say each time before gradually moving away, planting one last kiss on your lips.
It was the same each time, and it frustrated you beyond belief. Why couldn't you go on? Why did you feel so nervous? You knew you liked him, and you knew you were ready for him, so why? All these questions and you just couldn't find the answer.
And a new day would start.
Sweetly, you were awoken by the warm rays that peeked through your curtains, the golden hue painting your shared room with Shouto. You yawned softly as you shifted to your side, your boyfriend's face meeting yours as he slept. His eyelashes gently brushed against his cheeks as he snored through parted lips. You admired him in his peaceful state, cheeks slightly flushed, and his hair messily draped his eyes. Everything about him was so perfect.
You figured you should get out of bed, let him rest for a bit longer. As you slipped from under the sheets, you felt those familiar hands wrap around your waist, soliciting you to stay.
"Morning, sleepyhead." You giggled as you turned to look at him once more. But his only response was a hum as he relaxed his head against your back. His breath dripped down your neck, and his lips lazily grazed your soft skin. Suddenly, you felt yourself feeling hot still not accustomed to his touch.
His yawn filled your hearing and he tugged you back towards himself. "Can we just stay like this for a bit?" He mumbled into your ear lowly.
And you did just that, sinking into his embrace. His arms engirdled you, hands sneaking up your shirt where they relaxed. The way his chilled fingers brushed up and down your stomach had you feeling faint. You could feel his body heat across yours as he pressed himself against you. After all this time, he somehow always had an effect on you.
"Did you sleep well, y/n?" He whispered, his lips tickling your neck as he spoke.
"Um... yeah! I slept well. I'm sorry about yesterday, by the way. I just get too nervous to continue." You confessed, feeling a sting of embarrassment as you began reminiscing on last night.
You were referencing the night you tapped out of taking things further, again.
"Don't apologize for silly things like that, darling" You could feel his smile as he spoke. "We have all the time in the world. Don't rush yourself, okay?"
Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, lifting your arm slowly and placing it back down until he had you pinned. Your back faced the mattress as your head laid trapped between his arms. Heterochromatic eyes wandered around your face, and a tender smile plastered itself across his lips.
"I'm not rushing myself, I promise. I am ready, but my nerves always get the best of me."
With that, Shouto lowered himself, his face inches away from yours. "Do I make you nervous, darling?" A foreign teasing tone laced his voice.
You felt your breath catch in your throat as you fluttered your eyes back at him. Both of you knew the answer to that question, and you were definitely not going to humiliate yourself further to admit to that fact.
"I'll take that as a yes, then."
Cushiony lips met yours in an instant. Though it happened fast, Shouto's careful demeanor didn't waver. As his lips danced against yours, the familiar sensation began to sweep over you; body hot and adrenaline pumping.
He kissed you deeper, tongue coasting against your bottom lip, asking for permission. You didn't hesitate to grant his request, opening up immediately as you drove your hands up his chest. Under your palm, you felt the subtle drumming of his heart. It was oddly soothing to know you weren't the only one nervous. Maybe it was normal to feel slightly shy in moments like these?
His tongue ventured you attentively. With every swirl and flick of his tongue in your mouth, he made shivers trickle down your spine. And you felt woozy all over again. High on the taste of him, you wrapped your fingers into his shirt, pulling him towards yourself.
"Someone's feeling a bit eager this morning," Shouto spoke into the kiss, the corners of his mouth drawing into a faint grin. He was right. You wanted him, and you wanted him bad; fed up with all the times you allowed your nervousness to get in the way of your urges.
Lightly, he pulled away, trailing his lips down your neck. They felt warm as his tongue licked gradually. Shou delicately ensnared your skin between his teeth, nibbling gingerly at what was exposed. Throwing your head back, you couldn't hold back the moans that eluded your lips. Each whine dripped in lust as you felt his merciless lips wander further down your body.
He savored the taste of your silky skin as he explored you. Your sweet fragrance engulfed him; he pushed your shirt up, resuming his embrace. Nose lightly whisking down your stomach before his tongue swept back up. The sounds of your whimpers laced with his name cascaded from your lips. How was it even possible to fall for you more than he already had? Just watching how sensitive and responsive your body was for him had him on cloud nine. Every move his hands made, every stroke of his tongue, and every kiss he settled. Your moans only got breathier, and it made Shouto's head spiral. It was rare that he got to see you in this state, and he knew he was going to imprint this moment into his memory. He was already getting hard at the lude noises that coated your lips.
Those tender fingers of his gradually began kneading you softly, running down your thighs. And the tame fire that burnt at the pit of your stomach was set ablaze. You craved him more than ever, feeling more bothered with every second that passed. In response to the bliss you currently felt, you tried to shut your thighs, get some friction going. Yet, Shouto's body prevented that desire from coming to fruition.
"Princess, are you feeling needy already?" He hoisted his head up, giving you that damn teasing smirk once more. Deep down, however, he was just as desirous as you at this moment, craving to know more of you.
Before you could even respond, he was lowering himself down, peppering your inner thighs in kisses. At this point, you knew you were dripping, a tingly sensation washing over you.
"S-shou... please." You managed to huff out through moans, starving for his attention.
"Please what? Use your words now." His words had you feeling warm all over, embarrassed by his demands. Shouto didn't know why exactly he was teasing you this much; he could barely wait any longer himself. But seeing you flustered under him had him euphoric.
"I'm ready. Just please- you know what I want."
And with that, he obliged, his smooth tongue sweeping up your thigh. Nestling his lips delicately over your core, you flinched under his touch as a whimper parted your lips. Even if it was such a simple action, you still felt overwhelmed by this newfound pleasure.
Shouto didn't waste any time, hooking his finger in your underwear and swiftly tugging them off your frame. You could feel the cool breeze against you as you now lay exposed to him.
"You're beautiful, darling." Your boyfriend spoke in awe at you, admiring your body under him.
"Don't just stare!"
You tossed a hand over your face but Todoroki just chuckled at you, removing your hand from your face. Capturing your lips once more with his.
"Tell me to stop if it's all too much, okay?" Giving him a nod, he took his cue to continue his endeavor.
His slick tongue found its way between your two lips, caressing you up gently where he paused at your clit. Sucking softly, you felt an electric shock overcome your body as he relished in your taste. Dripping in pleasure, you whimpered and moaned his name, hands naturally burying themselves in his hair.
Finally, Shouto got to be lost in your waters, circling his spongy muscle around your clit. The melodious hums he let out as he devoured you delivered vibrations against your pleasure. Body quivering under his touch, Shouto savored the way your legs shivered.
"S-shou, I-I need more." You pleaded through broken gasps.
The best way to describe how you were feeling was almost like you were drunk. Feeling somewhat faint and simultaneously enticed as new sensations encapsulated your being. You've never felt your whole body move in such ways against your control. Even his dainty breaths on you had your stomach caving and your head flinging itself back.
To top all this glory off, at your request Shouto slipped his two chilled fingers in you. Pressing them partially upwards with every thrust. That, combined with his tongue doing wonders on your clit had him pushing all the right buttons. You tugged at his hair and whimpered out for him, eyes rolling back as bliss submerged you. The boiling pot in your stomach's pit overflowing with every calculated move he made. And when his fingers reached slightly deeper in you, it all consumed you. Your breath trembled, and your body twitched as stars overran your vision. A lewd moan streamed out your mouth, and for Shouto, that was everything he wanted to hear.
"Shou-Shou, please... enough."
Beads of sweat trickled down your face as you began catching your breath. Calming down from your climax, you eyed as your boyfriend's flushed face rose from between your thighs, lips coated in only what could be your juices.
"Are you okay, princess?" He spoke in a caring tone, but the way his tongue slipped out to lick off your remains from his lips had you feeling lustful once more.
"I'm more than okay." You responded, pushing a strand of his hair behind his ear, resting your palm on his neck.
His wet lips met yours in a sloppy kiss; you could feel his eagerness as he pressed himself down against you. The bulge in his pants nudged your leg, and you wanted him to unravel himself in you the same way you did. Softly, you pushed his chest, grabbing his attention.
"Want to stop, y/n?" He asked breathily.
"N-no... Shou, I think I'm ready."
"Are you sure?"
He could barely tame the excitement that spiked in him, knowing exactly what was coming next. Yet, he swallowed down his desires, wanting you to be sure that this was what you wanted.
"I'm certain."
"I'll be gentle, okay? Tell me if it hurts." He left a delicate kiss on your forehead before pulling himself up.
You watched as he swiftly removed his boxer. Spreading you apart, he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his dick up and down your fold. Breath already getting heavy, you dripped in anticipation for him.
"Ready?" He confirmed once more, earning a nod from you.
With your permission, he pushed the tip in, pausing as he waited for you to adjust to him gradually. The pressure you felt was near unbearable, feeling yourself stretch around his cock. Feeling full already, you couldn't imagine taking any more of him. You whimpered as you screwed your eyes shut, clenching your jaw as you bore the pain.
"I'm sorry if it hurts, y/n." He cupped your cheek, running his thumb across your bottom lip." I promise it won't hurt for much longer."
Once more, he drove more of himself in you, another surge of pain ripping through you. Quiet weeps evaded your mouth, your nails digging into Shouto's forearm. He took the hint, bringing his free hand down to meet your clit; his thumb tenderly rotating around it to drown out the discomfort. It felt better from there as trickles of pleasure rippling through you. Previous whimpers turned to lewd moans in no time, your pussy pulsating around Shouto as the pain gradually faded. And the last bit of him was in you.
He eyed his now submerged cock, letting out low moans as he felt you pulsate around him. But he didn't want to move yet. Instead, he cherished the image of your pretty self wrapped around him, your head tilted back and mouth open as your erotic voice bounced off the walls.
"How are you feeling, princess?" He came down to embrace his lips with yours as you reassured him of how you felt.
"I'm fine now."
"I'll start moving then."
You snaked your hands around his neck, preparing yourself for what was to come next. Haltingly, he began pulling out. Your walls swallowed him back in, however, and he could feel the pull. A gentle moan choked up in his throat at how snug you were.
"Princess, you're so tight." The low giggle that came after his comment made your body burn.
Before he could leave your body fully, he thrust himself back in. The lack of warning in his actions swept a moan out of you. Lust exploded through you as you sucked him back, and it had you almost reaching your climax again. Your eyes already rolled back as his dick stroked your plushy walls with every pump. Rhythmically, his hips met yours, and gradually you felt his pace pick up.
His body glazed in a thin layer of sweat; he peered at you through the hair that draped his eyes. You watched as his chest rose and fell, groaning at the feeling of being inside you. His pretty voice erupted from his throat and dripped down his rosy lips. This was a view one could only dream of, your beautiful boyfriend holding back from melting at your touch.
Louder and louder you both got, your moans flooding the room. No doubt that your climaxes were edging nearer. Every single thrust was hitting the right spot. The veins around his cock brushed every inch of you as you sucked him in deeper. Your body was overcome with warmth, legs bucking as your euphoria crawled closer. The knot in your stomach came undone as you moaned out Shouto's name. Gradually, his thrust got weaker, his own climax fast approaching. The feeling of being faint came as bliss occupied your sense. You twitched at how sensitive you felt, Shouto's cock still brushing past your walls as he road towards his high. Sloppier his pumps got, his moans getting deeper. He held you under himself, and with one sudden thrust, he whimpered into your ear as his cum drooled inside you, painting your velvet walls white.
You lay still for a moment, catching your breaths as you both processed what had occurred. It had finally happened; you both finally took things to the next level. Shouto turned to smile at you, intertwining your fingers together.
"You did amazing!" He said with a faint grin. You didn't even do anything, but you still felt a sense of pride. "I love you so much, y/n."
"I love you too, Shou."
Carefully, he pulled out of you, urging you not to move.
"Stay still. I'll clean us up and run you a bath, yes?" You propped yourself up on your elbows, already feeling the ache between your legs building.
But you still couldn't help but feel all warm inside as you observed your boyfriend run in and out of your room to tend to you.
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angelguk · 4 years ago
Text
oc is back on her bullshit!!! miss out and about im gonna forget about you!! im so sorry for this part actually. descriptions of oc sleeping with someone who is not jaykay (warning!! infidelity but not really). suppressed feelings on jks side. chayoung is still Suspicious. everyone is now mildly shitty actually. roughly 2k. listen to not gonna cry by emma steikbakken and stranger by tove lo.
titled — fuel to the fire
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It's been three days since you last spoke to Jeongguk (and four weeks since your break-up). Not about your relationship or the horrendous state your sudden break-up left you in, or about the fact that Jeongguk had moved on before your heart had even registered the cracks he'd left in his wake. No, not that – none of the actual life changing important stuff, only him briefly mentioning that you needed to hand in your event proposal for the student committee before the deadline approached. It was unbelievably strange to watch the person you'd basically surgically attached to your being behave like a complete stranger. It didn't help that he didn't seemed unfazed approaching you, while you on the other hand actively avoided him and all the usual corners of campus where he liked to lurk (which sucked because those corners were some of your favourites places too). But there he was, ambling to you with an ease that made your gut violently twist, acrid bile slithering up your throat.
He'd spoken so freely, the sound of your name on his tongue a brand on your skin. You'd frozen, heart a wild animal locked in your chest, before you could summon the mettle to look him in the face.
The first thing you noted was that his hair was no longer long. Dark locks cropped short around his ears now and casually gelled back, idle strands playfully framing his face. His features are what you settled on next, eager eyes remapping the sharp slope of his nose, easily identifying the sneaky dimple on his cheek begging to burst free and then shifting down to the dark mark right below his soft pink lips.
Your first instinct was to pull him into your arms but they were frozen, glued to the table beneath you before that blinding rage rose it's head, sparking through your veins the longer you looked at him.
He didn't even seem to realise it, rattling off the list of things you needed to email him for the spring scavenger hunt or else the event could be cancelled (which sucked because that was an idea you had created with Jeongguk and now you were stuck carrying the bulk of the event alone).
Your replies had been curt, blunt as they left your lips before you'd pointedly turned away. Maybe if you had looked a little longer you would detected the lingering gaze he granted your features, how he shuffled on his feet, unsure and hesitant, words on his tongue longing to be released. Eventually he had swallowed him down, mumbled a quick goodbye and wandered off, the hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy jeans aching to hold yours again.
You, however, didn't miss the muffled giggles of girls he passed on his way out, a sick icky feeling clogging your throat. You didn't mind the fan girls when you were dating because you knew Jeongguk was yours and yours alone. But now? When he'd moved on not even a weak after your break-up you didn't know how to feel. Jealous, maybe. Furious, absolutely. For a second, you considered throwing your mini stapler at their huddled heads, weighing the odds of possibly going to jail for assault. But there was no reason to truly justify that reaction, not when Jeongguk was single and apparently available for everyone. But did that feeling still brew inside of you? Turning into something black and vile and vengeful? Perhaps.
And maybe that's why you're here now, the body of some boy pressing against yours, your bare back prickling as the night wind grazes against it. The dress you'd plucked from your closet was criminal, clinging to the dips and rounds of your body perfectly, a silky emerald backless piece that shimmered beneath the soft lights of the porch you'd abruptly accoupled. His name might be Lucas – you may have been able to accurately remember that three drinks ago but you're beyond that now. And it didn’t really matter when all you wanted was for him to fuck you. He's also big and huge, massive shoulders caving you in, and his hands is snaking it's way up your thighs, ginger kisses peppered along the span of your neck.
Which is not what you wanted. Not in a one-night stand at least. You don't want soft and gentle, you want something wild – feral even. Something harsh enough to wipe the memory of Jeongguk's hands on your skin, something bright and fierce and new. Something to make you feel alive again.
Lucas gets the hint soon enough, spurred on by the bold movement of your hand guiding his closer, right between your thighs were you wanted him. Deft harsh fingers on your clit followed, pressing against the damp fabric with no remorse. You couldn't help the whimper that floats from your lips, the tension stringing through your limbs finally alleviated.
"Cute," he murmurs, seemly pleased judging from the broad smile that tugs at his lips. You make a noise of agreement in return, drawing in him for a kiss as the pad of this thumb toys with you. There's the sillage of whiskey on his tongue, something that nearly makes you freeze because you're used to tasting that on Jeongguk. But you beat down that apprehension, a muffled moan breaking past your lips when Luca's tongue mets yours.
"My place?" He suggests, lips glimmering from your lip gloss. You smile, a familiar giddiness bubbling in your chest when he shifts a little, hard bulge bumping into the base of your stomach. You give in a little bit more easily than you normally would have, clinging onto his hand as he guides you out of the party towards the neighboring building. Chayoung and Sieun are going to kill you later for this but you simply can't force yourself to care. 
"You're in that frat?" You finally murmur out when he keys himself into the building. Lucas hums, glowing under the moonlight when he smiles at you.
"Mhm, Sigma Chi for life, babe."
Babe. A complete one-eighty from the bunny you'd grown accustomed to.
It hits a little harder when he gets you into his room, the mess unlike anything you'd ever seen at Jeongguk's (he's very anal but his room and how clean it should be, specific down even to the various scents he kept around to ensure the air he breathed was perfect). Lucas was the average frat boy, messy but neat enough that you find yourself naked on his bed a couple moments later, his tongue deep inside of you. Your brain couldn't help but recall the last time a head had settled between your thighs, Jeongguk eager to lick out the pool of cum he'd left there. But this wasn't him and as of five seconds ago you decided you’re no longer allowed to think about him.
Lucas makes it easy, tongue skilled and swift around your clit, a fervour in his movements that leaves you dripping down his chin. Jeongguk evaporates from your mind entirely when Lucas descends on you, his mouth glistening and his tongue tasting of you. His kisses are hungry now, forceful, just what you need. Your palms stray down his wide back, a strange tingle erupting in your gut when your nails dig and he groans right down your throat.
"You're so big," the comment is a mumbled slur, lost in Lucas's mouth. For a second, you think he misunderstands, his hard cock twitching against your thigh. You're actually talking about his shoulders; they're broad, muscles rippling every time he shifts to press you harder into the mattress. You like the weight of him on you, it makes forgetting easier.
But Lucas knows what you're saying, discerning your wandering fingers and clouded eyes well.
"I know," he returns with lopsided smile. "Perks of swimming."
Oh, of course he was an athlete. Maybe you had a type after all.
Before Jeongguk has a moment to resurface Lucas has you in his arms, easily twisting you around so that your face is buried in his sheets. It short-circuits you, brain sparking with how large and huge and strong he feels. The following sudden press of his lips against your ass doesn’t help, your heart thumping loud in your head as your shuffle onto your elbows.
"Good?" Lucas asks, rising to fetch a condom from his drawer.
"Mhm," you return, thighs trembling when he returns. He easily lines himself up with you, the head of his cock pressed into you coaxing a low groan from your throat. The first thrust hurts, probably because you're body isn't as on board with this as you thought. But that changes quick when Lucas's hand slides underneath you, swiftly settling on your clit until you're leaking around his length, skin tight with tension and sweat beading along the length of your back. The stretch feels strange – he's larger than Jeongguk, wider. At first it's too uncomfortable to feel good. Your senses narrow on the sound of your meeting instead, loud and lewd, your pussy squelching with every drag of his cock inside of you. The ripple of your ass helps you relax too, a pleasant almost dizzy feel spreading through your body when Lucas draws you closer, shoving himself deep inside, the whine floating from his lips painting your skin warm. He fucks you hard enough to leave marks, large fingers digger into your hips with every resounding collide of your bodies. You shiver when he finishes, a grimness appearing on your skin. It's vanished by Lucas tugging you close, his mouth light on your lip as he kisses you, cock slowly slipping out.
It feels better the second round. He's perceptive, quickly learning how you like your clit touched, or that you like when his teeth sink into your skin rather hard. You actually cum this time, spread open over his massive strong thighs, his length splitting you open, the stretched welcomed.
You forgot about Jeongguk and your sore heart for a total of two wonderous hours, before your phone starts blaring from your discarded mini-bag on the floor. Lucas is the one that gets it for you.
"Hi?"
"Y/N! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" Chayoung's tone is aggrieved, wavering through the sound of some song blasting in the background.
"Oh. I left." You hope she gets it, doesn't press any further. But what was Chayoung if not a button pusher?
"WHERE? YOU WENT HOME? WHEN?"
"No, I'm not home. And awhile ago." Lucas is pointedly not listening, pattering through the adjacent bathroom of his room. The pressure ebbs when he turns the tap on loud.
"WHAT?"
"I said I'm not home! And please stop yelling!"
There's a loaded pause. You can feel Chayoung thinking through the line. "Okay... Who are you with?"
"Fine, yes I'll meet you there," you say instead, completely ignoring her question. Lucas is out of the bathroom now, massive and still naked as his knee sinks into the mattress. He crawls to you as you scramble to get out, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear. "Yeah, yeah I know I'm sorry. I'll come get you."
"What the hell are you talking about Y/N? Who are you with?" Chayoung's words are bitter now, stinging as they hit your ear.
"Gimme five seconds, I'll be right there," you return, swiftly cutting the call. Chayoung is going to kill you the second you see her but you'd rather attempt to live through that than Lucas overhearing you gossip about him on the phone with your friend. The man in question is watching you with a chary gaze as you hurriedly tug your dress over your head. "Sorry," you supply, pulling the hem down hard over your butt. "My friend needs me."
He nods slow, strawberry blond locks swaying. He's actually very hot, an observation that has you stilling for a second.
"Cool. See you around, yeah?" His eyes are round and big, bright even – almost like Jeongguk's. That breaks the spell.
"Yeah, see you around." And then you take the chance to flee, bag swung over your shoulder. Except Lucas halts you with a low cough, raising his hand, something bunched up in it.
"You forget this, though." It's your underwear, red and lacy. Your cheeks match the colour of fabric, flushed hot as you pluck it out of his wide palm. Lucas watches you slip them on with a smug smile, one that you should hate but there's a humour in it that blooms through you. He lets you part with a fond squeeze of ass when he gets up to open the door, still grinning.
"See you, Y/N," he says, leaning against the doorframe. He's very tall too, how did you miss that?
"Yeah," you squeak back, eyes shifting from his face with speed. "See you."
He's not Jeongguk, and that's good. He also makes it easy for you to forget about Jeongguk, another plus. And you can't help but wonder as you scurry back to the party, that it might be nice to see him again.
That sentiment gets jumbled when Chayoung avidly spills to you later that she'd stumbled into Jeongguk with his hands tangled with another girls, leading her right out of the party as Lucas had lead you. It stings, of course it does, but not as much as the first one. Not when Lucas is in your DMs, his messages sweet albeit corny, and you can still recall the taste of you on his tongue. 
But despite everything, even with Jeongguk a new stranger and Lucas's body warming yours, you haven’t truly let go. You can feel it in how you cling to the clothes Jeongguk had left in your closet. He hadn't requested to come pick them up yet, a fact that keeps a wedge in the door you're not sure you can close alone. Your heart still spikes when you see him on campus, and there's a home game coming around the corner that you're longing to go to. Because you still want to see him. Still want to be by his side Sometimes it felt nice to want to forget but you couldn't – not yet at least, not until you know whether he wants to forget about you too.
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imgoingtofreakoutnow · 3 years ago
Note
“Please don’t look at me with such hatred.” With Loki (I feel like this could be both Angst and fluff so I’m not sure with one to request)
Broken Hearts
Summary: After finding out Loki isn't dead and is now imprisoned, you sneak into Asgard's prisons to see him one last time.
Pairing: (past) Loki x reader
Prompt: "Please don’t look at me with such hatred."
Warnings: angst, mentions of death
A/n: Hello Shle! I truly hope you like this because I really enjoyed writing it. Hope you're having a good day!💗✨ — @hellotvshowtrash
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The corridors were dark, cold and empty. No wonder entering Asgard's prisons turned out to be easier than what you expected.
Wrapped in you dark cloak, you turned another corner and the corridor opened in a bigger tunnel. Many prisoners eyed you from both sides behind their orange veil that kept them inside, but you didn't spare them a glance.
Heimdall had told you exactly where the person you were looking for had been brought.
After a few more turns, you stopped in front of one of those cells. Elegant furniture that clearly didn't belonged there adorned the blank room, with their carved details and golden streaks of paint.
The prisoner was slumped on a couch, reading a book, when he finally noticed you.
"Y/N." Loki put down his book, a smirk immediately appearing on his face. "Funny seeing you here."
He got up effortlessly, his movements fluent like water down a river. You used to be enchanted by them, by the way his hair followed him around. Now it just reminded you the swirls of a venomous snake.
"How have you been?" he then asked, leaning towards the magic barrier between you two but carefully not touching it. "Have you mourned my death while I was gone?"
You didn't move. You didn't even dare to open your mouth; the Gods only knew what could've left it. You just stared.
"Oh, silent treatment," — Loki straightened his back, wandering his gaze on the rest of the room — "I see... not that I don't deserve it, however from you? I wasn't expecting such a cold welcome... But then again," he added, facing you once more, "a lot can change in one year, can't it?"
As if you had become one with the stone under your feet, you didn't move a muscle, even though every inch of your body screamed to. You just kept staring, searching his features for glimpses of past memories; walks in the woods and the palace gardens, nights spent under the stars, sharing secrets and hopes just like lovers would.
Your silent staring competition continued for quite some time, but the longer it lasted, the more changes you noticed on Loki's face. At first, it was just a twitch in his lips, then slowly his eyes lost their characteristic smugness, until his gaze fell to the white floor together with his smirk.
"Please, don't look at me with such hatred..." he whispered, in a way that, if you didn't know any better, it sounded just like a prayer. "I can't bear it, not from you." When he eventually looked back up, your eyes met his regretful ones. "I only did what I had to do..."
"That's not true..." You shook your head, pressing your lips in a thin line. "Of all the things you could say to excuse you, that's not one. You didn't have to do anything. You had a choice, and you could've chosen us."
How painful was still that last word on your lips! A deadly kiss, that tasted like roses and rotten flesh.
"You could've chosen a happiness that didn't come from power," you continued, stepping closer to the orange barrier, "one that would've lasted longer than life itself, if you truly wanted to." You stopped for a moment, breathing slowly in, letting him ponder the possibility he had thrown away. "But you didn't."
This time was his turn not to utter a word. He stared back at you, his eyes getting more and more blurry by the second. As you watched his hurt expression, you felt a lump growing in your throat, pricking your eyes with guilt and sorrow, but you gulped it down.
"I loved you, Loki. More than I've ever loved anyone. And your death destroyed my soul. I shed all my tears over you..." And I will not cry for you again.
"I'm sorry..."
"I don't need your apologies," you cut him off, even though you knew how heavy were those words on his tongue. But now, they weren't enough. "I need my heart back, but that's something I'll never be able to fix."
You expected him to perhaps say something more. You didn't know what. That he regretted it, that he missed the life he had with you, as simple as it was... but he didn't.
You turned around, going back from the way you came him. Not a word was uttered, not a tear was shed. But two hearts were still broken.
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erensproudsimp · 4 years ago
Text
Chef D'œuvre
Jean kirstein x Reader
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⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠
Content Warnings:Fluff, Sex on a canvas, established relationship, teasing Jean hehe, dirty talk, ultimate smut + this isn't proofread
Summary: Restraining Jean from touching you the whole day, a candle light dinner in the evening leading to sex on a canvas? The idea of Jean as an artist is just so hot.
Word count:4.1k
Fanart is by artworkbyzuli on insta
Cross-posted on ao3
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Colorful tainted tiles, the smell of fresh paint hovering in the air, early hours of sunshine filtering from the beige curtains to fall on his face highlighting his features as his eyes concentrated on the canvas. Blanc frames waiting to be hued with a meaning or not. Teeth clenching, his jawline apparent, he looked like a Greek God, his brush being his weapon, almost out of this world. Shirt glued on his body like a second skin layer bringing out his honed muscled body, Jean truly was a work of art spreading his magnificence on cloth and paper. Standing by the door frame in his shirt two times bigger than your figure, you admired your boyfriend, his back facing you, drowned in his own world of aesthetic in his studio.
Tiptoeing to him, you wrapped your arms around his torso, your cheek pressed on his back catching him off-guard. You took a quick whiff of him. Sandalwood with a faint citrus.
"Woah there, good morning baby, did you have a good night sleep?" Jean's hoarse voice almost made your legs lose their balance. His free hand caressing your arms, you hummed as a simple yes still intoxicated by his scent.
"I'm going to go prepare breakfast, I'll call for you when I'm done." Jean gave you a quick forehead kiss before you left the room.
Cracking some eggs in the pan, you connected your phone to the speaker in the house to play some music while you proceeded to put fruits in the blender to make smoothies. Swaying your body to the music at the same time lip-syncing to the words, you spread butter on slices of bread unaware of Jean's presence behind you. The man crossed his arms, leaning on the wall he admired your actions which were nothing but alluring to him.
What made it even more hot to him was the fact that you were wearing his shirt. At first in the studio, he didn't realise but now that he noticed, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. He took in the way his shirt was practically floating on you, the flashbacks of last night suddenly raced through his mind. The way you were moaning his name, grabbing the sheets tightly as you let him take control of you made him take a deep breath before he approached you.
Now it was his turn to return you the hug from earlier. Surprised by him, he didn't leave you a second to react to his abrupt act of affection, he moved your hair to the side to plant a kiss on your neck making you shiver. His arms tightened around you just as his kisses went deeper all through your neck.
"y/n," his hot breath unsteady.
"Je-Jean, the eggs are gonna burn," you breathed.
"The only thing burning right now is my urge to fuck you right on this counter," Jean whispered in your ear almost making you lose your thinking pattern.
"Jean, I'm serious," you tried to wingle from his grasp to save your omelettes and placed them on two separate plates.
Jean looked at you disappointedly as though a puppy who had just lost its toy.
"Aww don't look at me like that, gimme a kiss, come on," you opened your arms, encouraging him to come to you.
Gladly he did and locked his lips in an instant.
"Jump," Jean demanded in between the makeout and you, of course, obeyed.
Your legs around his hips, sloppy lips fighting for dominance, Jean pressed your ass on the kitchen island. His arms snaking up and down your thighs, giving them a light squeeze here and there.
"Your legs are pretty, but they would be prettier on my shoulders hmm," his voice laced with a passion so hot like molten lava.
Your insides now ignited with flame, you pushed your hips into his by closing in your legs wrapped around him. Hard. Mischievousness coursed through your mind as you wanted to tease him for making you flushed.
"Want my legs over you? well catch them if you can," with that said, you jumped off the kitchen island freeing yourself from his clutches to run away from him.
"Hey! Get back here! I'm not done with you! " Jean called after you, laughing as he chased you down the corridors. A soft genuine laugh emitting from him when you threw pillows from the sofas at him to halt his movements only for him to catch the items and throw it back at you like a snowball fight.
A grin plastered on your face when you finally got tired of the running and collapsed on the floor with Jean kneeling beside you equally euphoric. The happiness was mainly because he felt so much at peace seeing your smile.
"Got ya," he breathed from exhaustion, encircling his arms around your waist and pulling you close so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.
"You're so warm," Jean nuzzled his nose into your neck.
"Speaking of warmth, our food's getting cold in the kitchen, hurry up we need to eat," you mentioned.
"The only thing I want to eat right now is you-" you cut him off with your index finger pressed on his soft lips.
"Jean, I swear to god, let's go," you pushed him from back because he was trying to grab your ass, however, you receded.
"Your hands were so small on my back, but I'd prefer them jerking my dic-" again you shut him up by shoving toast bread in his mouth to save you from further embarrassment.
"Y/n baby, I need you so bad right now," he said swallowing that bread hard as your eyes widen.
From the look in his eyes, you could tell that this man was sexually frustrated, certainly because of your actions earlier but you didn't expect him to be so thirsty.
For a brief moment, a thought came up to you, basically telling you to refuse his current wishes to make him further agitated just so that you ravish the feeling of him taking the pent-up anger out harder on you later. Perfect plan, you internally agreed to yourself.
"Oh you need me badly? How about you show me that at night, okay?"a light smirk stretching the corner of your mouth.
" Y/n, I need you now, like right now, I can't wait till night or anything," Jean whined. How cute.
"Aww, you're that desperate baby? You can't hold yourself back? I thought you were tougher than this,"you cooed.
" Y/n, I can see damn well what you're trying to do, so stop messing with me please, "Jean reached out to grab your face only for you to pull back. Not going to lie that did hurt you when you saw the disappointed look on his face, yet, oddly that made you feel and realise the control you had over him and goddamn this felt good.
"Okay then, how about a little bit of challenge for you? If you manage to keep your hands off me the entire day and that includes any sort of contact, I'll make a surprise for you tonight as a reward. And if you lose then no sex for you until the next day baby. Deal?"
"Now that's going to be hard as hell but your surprises never fail to entertain me so deal."
"That was quick of you," you commented shaking his hand as a way of signing the contract.
"I just know that you're going to do something remarkable that will blow my mind so I'm simply looking forward to it."
His hopes were ridiculously high for the reward and luckily you already had something in mind for tonight.
After breakfast, Jean wasted no time to rush into his studio to keep you out of his sight. That was going to be a little too easy for him to win in this way. Not that you didn't want him to win, you couldn't help but want to push him to his limits. While you were scavenging your mind for the perfect way to catch him off guard, you heard a knock at the door. Outside was the postman with a package which seemed to be a delivery of one of the various things you kept buying online.
Taking the parcel inside, you opened it to find something that made you smiled evilly. It was a black transparent two pieces lingerie with lace straps. Not a second was wasted for you to change into that. To hide your plans, you wore a bathrobe and tiptoed to the studio.
Inside, Jean clearly concentrated on drawing when you creaked open the door, his attention now on you.
"Y/n why are you wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the da- oh-"
Right at that moment, you removed the robe letting it fall to your feet to unveil the marvel that was hidden inside of it.
Jean's breath hitched in his throat.
"You have no idea how badly I want to scream right now,"his pencil falling out of his hand, he covered his face with his hand and took a step back from you. He rubbed his temples as he inhaled deeply.
"Fuck y/n, why are you doing this to me?"he looked at you from up to down as though he was eating you up with his eyes, capturing every inch of what he's seeing and burning it into his memory.
"Do you like what you see?" your hands on your hips as you leaned on the wall.
"You have no idea."
You chucked and approached him slowly.
"If only I could touch you right now, you have no idea of what I'd do to you," Jean put his hands into the pockets of his pants to try to contain himself from not jumping on you like a hungry wolf who hasn't eaten in weeks.
Clacking your black heels on the cold tiles, your hands meticulously moving on your hips, you diminished the distance between you two. One foot difference. Jean licked his teeth from inside closed mouth and opened it slightly to let out hot breath, sustaining the proximity but you could see the intensity in his eyes.
"I can't stop staring, please y/n, "
"Where's the fun in that? I wanted to see you all hopeless for me and you're doing a pretty good job resisting," your finger pointing at his growing bulge.
Blowing air from his mouth, his hands on his hips, he walked to and fro.
"Is this the surprise you were telling me about in the morning?"
"Of course not, the surprise is bigger than this. I just wanted to give you a little sneak peak thought since I love you so much and don't want to kill you with a heart attack," you giggled twirling a strand of your hair. His eyes went big.
"If that's the case, you better prepare yourself for tonight because you seriously don't know what I'm going to do to you," Jean licked his lips.
"Can't wait," you blew him a kiss while you strolled out of the room, his eyes still fixated on the lingerie.
Not only did what happened turned you on, but it also motivated you to start the preparations for Jean to wreck you till you couldn't walk. Changing into pajamas for comfort, you took out scented candles of your preference and placed them on the nightstands and dressing table in the bedroom.
Jean's POV
'What the hell was y/n even thinking pulling that move on me? '
Sighing deeply I looked at my boner.
"Now what am I going to do of you? Jerk off to the memory of y/n in that black lingerie?"
On second thought, that doesn't sound bad, except for the fact that he was in an art studio.
Gosh, was he not turned when he first saw you in that. The way the cloth surrounded your soft breasts, decorating them to be perhaps the most flawless thing he'd ever seen or the way your stance screamed if confidence. He couldn't decide which of them were hotter.
The little ribbons on the strap did nothing but make you more erotic. How did you even manage to look that good, is a mystery that he will never discover.
"I really got the best of the best for me huh," Jean smiled to himself.
His art failed in front of you. Null and void. In his eyes you were the definition of what a beauty goddess was, hence proving that beauty indeed lied in the eyes of the beholder. Despite your imperfections which nonetheless still made you impeccable, Jean always attempted in copying your sublimity yet in vain.
Without a doubt, you were the best Muse he's ever had in his life. One day hoping that he would finally do you justice and be able to recreate his image of you in his mind on cloth, Jean kept trying albeit failing each time. However, he would absolutely never give up.
Collecting himself from the recent impact, he picked up his pencil from the ground and as much as he wanted to concentrate on his drawing of you, he couldn't prevent himself from picturing you from back then. You were beyond gorgeous. Maybe, that exactly was the inspiration he needed.
"I need to take a bath," Jean said to himself. Luckily there were two bathrooms in the house, as he wouldn't want to interrupt you while you were busy making whatever surprise.
To be honest, Jean was as impatient as you and full on ready to be taken by surprise by you.
Your POV
"Okay I've cleaned the room spotless, scented it, changed the sheets of the bed, took out towels and now time to bring the big thing,"you checked off everything on your mentally made-up list before you could continue.
Rushing to the wardrobe, you took out the art supplies required for the sex painting. Canva isn't the comfiest option for sex but you knew that it will all be worth the work at the end.
You honestly couldn't wait to see Jean's reaction to this.
Since the mattress can get a little colorful, you didn't want to run the risk of ruining the bedding either, you rather placed the sheet of canva on the carpeted floor that was still easy to the body. Laying down a cloth, that you taped so that it wouldn't dislocated when things get moving, on top of which you placed the canva and towels around it as well as a trail of towels towards the bathroom so that clean up of the post-art would be rendered easier.
"Okay now that everything is settled, let's go take a bath and prep myself up," you muttered to yourself, locking the door from the inside so that Jean wouldn't accidentally enter it.
-Time skip-
A private dinner in your dwelling makes for an magical evening. Silk sheet on the table, napkins neatly pleated on the white plates surrounded by tableware. Incorporating flower petals, slow romantic harmonious music, and low lighting to create the right atmosphere you as well added string lights for an added touch of enchantment. Aphrodisiac food was the obvious choice, you thought, placing down the lobster in the middle. Wine in glasses twinkling to the fairy lights for a further sizzle.
Not long until Jean made his appearance in a suit, top buttons of his shirt loose while you were in a black dress lighting the scented candles.
"Hey babe," his throaty voice called.
Turning around, you saw him, his hands in his pockets walking towards you. His large body towering yours.
"You look hot," he complimented looking down on you.
"So do you," you giggled bopping his nose.
Pulling a chair, Jean signaled you to sit as he pushed the chair then going to his seat facing you.
The empty wine glasses were delicately filled with the red alcohol, each of you raising your goblet for a cheers.
" Cheers to my pretty boyfriend."
"Cheers to my future wife," Jean smirked as you were busy turning fifty shades of red.
In comfortable silence, except for the clinking of utensils, both of you ate.
"Main course is done for, now time for dessert, "he said standing from his chair to yours. Lift you off the ground swiftly, he walked you to the bedroom in bridal style.
"huh? HUH? Jean what are you doing?"
"Taking my dessert to eat, what else?" he replied kissing you. His kiss was a fever. Hot. Sluggish.
Opening the door to disclose the surprise, his eyes went wide until it hit him. The canva and towels on the ground, paint orderly laid on the bed.
"I was thinking the house needed some more decorations, so why not spice things up by creating this masterpiece and hanging it in the living room for everyone to see? " innocently you smiled at him.
"Hahaha y/n! You're amazing!" rosy cheeks, eyes twinkling with admiration and affection he twirled your body in air, "wait then that means that the whole day you preventing me from touching you was pointless," his expression now slightly frowned.
"I mean, yeah, I mean, I just wanted to see you desperate for me," you fumbled with your words.
"Bad girl. After this I will have to punish you for making me suffer for nothing," Jean put you down.
You didn't know whether to feel anticipation or fear knowing that this man was going to wreck you.
"Why are you acting coy all of a sudden? Weren't you the one to act like a whore? " with the cockiest smirk ever Jean said.
His hands previously placed gently on your hips began to tighten. The press only fueled your rapid beating of your heart. Tilting your head towards his face by lifting it with one finger on your chin, he locked eye contact with you.
Lust filled his irises. Skilfully, he unzipped your dress and pulled it off your skin. Skin that desired to be touched so badly. Skin that burned under his fingertips that grazed the surface. Under the clothes exposed the black lingerie that got Jean worked up since morning.
Even though he already saw you in it, it nevertheless felt like the first time. The same adoration that held his gape seemed to be worshiping your body.
"May I take your bra off? " Jean asked. You nodded, Jean elatedly removed it.
"Look at these perfect tits. Belonging and made only for me," cupping them in his hands, he growled against your neck.
Your mind going blanc and empty, you were left speechless. Only ravishing him. His presence. His hot breath fanning on you. As much as you wanted to take this slowly, you couldn't stop yourself from craving to feel him buried deep inside of you.
Your hand slightly sliding over his growing bulge, earning a hiss and restrained moan from him.
"No. You're not going to be the one to tease me anymore. It's my turn," biting your collarbone, he declared making you leap in his arms.
Feeling self-conscious that you were the only one in undergarment, you unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it off him while he was sloppily making out with you.
Grabbing your thighs, he insinuate for you to jump. Chest to chest, he then threw you on the bed making it sink under your weight. He was finally freed from his restraints of not laying a hand on you.
His body hovering yours, he kissed you passionately. He's never kissed you like this before. Maybe you should restrain him more often.
Jean swallowed your gasp when unknowingly his hand went down your stomach to press on your clothed clit.
"Huh? You like that?" laughs "yeah you like that don't you," he breathed his finger circling around the bud. Your response was a moan and your breath quickening. Your reaction turned Jean on more than he already was.
Going down on you, he sucked your soaked underwear, the room filled with slurping sounds. He gripped your hips by wrapping his big arms around it to prevent you from squirming away. You were practically a moaning mess. Aggressively, he ripped it off you, continuing to lick through your folds.
"Jea-Jean I think I'm going to c-cum," you manage to utter.
"Heh, not yet princess, we got so much more do," he wiped his mouth that was coated with your juices and licked the liquid off his fingers. You looked at him with pleading eyes as you were yearning for a release.
Legs trembling, you raised your body to be able to sit while Jean grabbed the body-safe paint and put a fair amount on the cloth.
"Come here my lady," he said as he picked you to lay your body gently on the canva, paint on your back.
Jean took off his pants and underwear, his hard dick slapping on his stomach whilst you were making yourself comfortable.
A brush in his one hand and a palette in another, he sauirted some paint on the flat item.
Impatience began to overcome you as you begged him to come to you.
"Wait a moment more babe, I'm just making the perfect colour," Jean finished his sentence by approaching you.
Jean maintained eye-contact with you, the brush gliding over your soft skin leaving colors behind its track. Chills ran down your skin after each stroke. Drowning in bliss, Jean slowly ran the tool down your belly to an inch higher up your pussy. You were waiting for him to pass the paint through your core but instead he stopped his actions making you internally more annoyed.
"I'm not going to let you get off so easily after what you did to me," Jean murmured.
Cold. Squeezing the paint tubes, Jean splat paint on your body, mainly on your stomach. He leaned forward and pressed his body against yours to spread the paint.
Lining his dick right outside your entrance, he thrusted in without warning. Your back arching, you let out a moan. His hands rushing behind your back, he hugged your body as he gave you time to adjust to him.
"Mmmm, fits perfectly. Look at how good you take me, yeah you see that? "Jean moaned in your ear.
" It's okay, you can move,"you bit back a groan because Jean didn't leave you a second before pumping in and out of you.
" I can't believe you're mine, all mine, no one but me knows how good you feel, just me,"Jean panted in your ears," listen to my moans, you he-ear how goo-od you're making me feel? "
"AH-yes Jean, yes," you purred.
His forehead rested on yours, mouth connected, swallowing each other's breath and sounds.
" Go faster Jeaann." This made him slow down instead of doing as you wanted.
"Oh? you want me to go faster? Go-o ahead, beg for it. Tell me how bad you need me," Jean's stroked your insides with long and slow thrusts.
"Pl-please Jean, need you so badly, you make me feel so good so take all your anger out on me bu-ut please make me cum alongside with you!"
"Lift your ass, my queen,"Jean satisfied with your answer commanded, which you did as he ordered as he pounded deeper into you mixing the paint on the canva.
"Look at you, such a good girl."
It wasn't long until Jean filled your insides with his hot seed making you scream his name loudly. Right before you could come that Jean could tell by the shaking of your breath, he lifted your body off the masterpiece so that your ejaculation wouldn't ruin it.
In his arms, you came so hard, your liquids dripping down Jean's skin.
"Y/n, I don't think you realised that but what you just did was so hot," Jean admired you.
"Also, thank you for fulfilling my fantasies as an artist," he thanked you kissing your cheeks fondly.
Walking on the towel leading to the bathroom, he put you inside the bathtub, opening the tap to let the container fill with hot water. While it was doing so, Jean got in with you between his legs and head on his chest heaving up and down.
Jean took some shampoo in his hand, and massaged your scalps with you basking. Heavenly was a word too light to describe the feeling. You were basically in paradise.
"In round two I'm not planning on going gentle now so just bite the pillow and take it," Jean sputtered against your hair.
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runwithwolvcs · 4 years ago
Text
You Know I'm No Good - t w o
Temptation vs Freedom
Warnings (future chapters): Drugs/Alcohol, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Mental Health, (Mentions of SA, but no details)
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I don't like memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day. Its a constant battle . A war between remembering and forgetting.
Back in her darkened bedroom, Tallulah still couldn't wrap her head around her current situation. The rest of the night consisted of her being introduced to people who seemed to know more about her then she had wanted, clearly word spreads fast around La Push. Josie had introduced her to some of her friends that had arrived later, after the tribal stories. Clearly only there for the party. They seemed nice, but they were definitely not the type of people she would choose to be friends with herself.
Lenna had made herself scarce throughout the entire, to which her twin stated was typical behaviour. But Tallulah figured it had more to do with her presence than anything else. Tally couldn't help but look for the tan boy she had locked eyes with, something about him was so alluring. It was almost frustrating, Tallulah Forester doesn't get captivated by anyone, not ever. She was the captivating one, at least that's what Xander had always said. “You're like a tornado, with pretty eyes and a heartbeat. Luring in bystanders until you’ve ruined their lives..That's what I enjoy so much about you”, that was the last thing he had said to her before she had left his house party the night she had been caught. Their relationship was a mess, both of them struggling for control, even if it meant hurting each other in the process. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but it was all she ever had. She craved it in an almost masochist way.
Tallulah's phone had been off all night, not in the mood to deal with the onslaught of messages she was sure to get, now that she had a moment to breath by herself she figured she may as well read them, 1 5 messages from Lina and 3 missed calls, her best friend, was more than likely freaking out, consumed by guilt over the fact that their lies to their parents had been crossed. 7 messages from Kit, who she figured was already trying to plan how to spin this to make herself the victim, as Kit does, and 1 lone message from Xander, the only one she read before she shut off her phone to go to sleep.
That sucks :(
Was all that it said.
-
After a lot of tossing and turning in the bed that was almost too soft, mixed with the pillows that weren’t soft enough, Tallulah drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of the boy who had taken her by storm, his smile seemed brighter than the sun and the way he laughed was like music to her ears. They were on a cliff overlooking the ocean, she could see that he was talking, but couldn't hear what he was saying, she watched as he stood up and walked towards the edge of the cliff, looking as though he was about to jump, she stood up in a panic--
Tallulah startled awake to Kira shaking her shoulder gently, a soft smile graced her face. It was raining, but Tallulah could tell it was early morning.
“Tally, sweetie, you’re dad and I would like to speak with you before he goes to a meeting” she said quietly, “Get dressed and meet us downstairs in ten minutes,” she spoke, the smile never leaving her lips. Tallulah groaned, not one to be a morning person in the slightest, she swung her legs out of bed, toes touching the cool hardwood floors. She could hear low murmurs outside her door as she heaved herself out of bed, still not used to her surroundings she walked to her two duffle bags and sifted through the clothes before settling on an oversized, green long sleeve to cover the stick and poke tattoos that littered her arms, with ripped, loose, blue jeans. One disappointment at a time, she thought to herself as she got dressed. She grabbed her hairbrush from her bag and ran it through her hair, leaving it to lay in its natural waves down her back before quietly heading downstairs to whatever talk she was awaiting.
She was met with Kira and her father sitting at the kitchen table next to each other, and as they beckoned her over to sit, she noticed the thin, blue rectangle laying in the middle of the table. The same blue rectangle she had so carefully hid in her room back in Seattle, or so she thought. She could feel anger begin to bubble in her belly as realization dawned on her, her mother had been through her room.
She sat expectantly, waiting for her dad to chastise her for using drugs, or even alcohol, as a minor and how that could affect her future, but he looked to Kira to begin. The gentle smile that was near permanent on her stepmom was almost comforting in the moment, almost. “Tally”, She starts, “We are aware of your.. pastimes, in Seattle, however, we will not be encouraging that same behaviour here.” she sounds like a damn counselor, Tallulah thought to herself. She’d honestly prefer being yelled at. “We have a few ground rules that we expect you to follow, as we do Lenna and Josette.” Kira continued, “Under no circumstances, will we allow drugs under our roof, including nicotine,” she says referring to the vape sitting in between them, “Or alcohol that does not belong to your father and I. If you are to partake in these activities and are caught you will have consequences.” She looks at Joseph, as if they had rehearsed their own parts, looking towards her dad expectantly, “Secondly,” He speaks up, “As we expect with the twins, any boy, or girl, that you are,, having relations with, we expect to meet, no sneaking them through bedroom windows.” Tallulah cringes internally, it was one time, she wanted to yell. “Curfew will be 11:00 pm on school nights and midnight on Fridays and Saturdays, no exceptions.. Understood?” he asked, looking at his eldest daughter. She wants to argue with them, tell them that policing her life won’t make her change, not the way that they wanted her to at least. That was something her mother learned the hard way. She had taken the door off her bedroom when she had found out she was sneaking out in the night, which only caused Tallulah to start sneaking out the front door instead, right in front of her.
“You done?” she asks, yawning, this wasn’t new to her at all, and she really didn’t care to be frank. The two adults look at each other, Kira nodding her head in Tallulah's direction, Joseph sighed before tossing a key chain on the table next to her vape. A small house key was connected to what looked like a car key. “Choose one.”
Temptation or Freedom?
Tallulah spent the rest of the day running errands with Josie, who had offered to show her around the reservation. They had stopped at Monets, the local cafe, run by the Littleseas, its the go to hangout spot, according to Josie. Who happens to be friends with Colin Littlesea, the eldest son of the owners.
Tallulah picked at the half eaten muffin sitting in front of her as she waited for Josie to return with a refill of both of their coffees. They were so different from each other, Tallulah drinking hers black, while Josies consisted of mainly cream and sugar, just like their personalities, but for some odd reason they clicked.
The car her father and Kira gave her was originally supposed to go to Josie, so that the twins no longer would have to share their current one. Finding out that alone made her reconsider her choice, at least a nicotine addiction only really affected her, but with a lot of reassurance from Josie, and the simple ask that Tallulah help run her errands eased her guilt. She didn't want to upend the twins' life, it wasn’t their fault her parents decided to force her to move to La Push. While Josie seemed to enjoy her presence, Lenna did not, and it's clear now she was avoiding her.
Tallulah gazed around the quaint yet homey cafe, its hand painted walls consisted of the same trees that surrounded the reservation, it was peaceful. She looked towards the door as it chimed, alerting the staff of new customers entering, a group of extremely tall, good looking men walked through the door, causing the calm energy to shift with their booming laughs, everyone seemed to be used to this behaviour, considering she was the only one to look in their direction.
Her eyes followed the group of boys, taking each one in, by the time she reached the last, he was already looking at her. Paul Lahote. The largest of them all, in height and muscle, she thought to herself as her eyes raked his body.
Josie setting her coffee down in front of her broke her concentration on the boy, her attention fully shifted to her half-sister. “What do they feed the men here? They are all so tall” Tallulah asked jokingly, to which Josie laughed, shaking her head. “Not all of them. Just the ones who hang around Sam Uley. Some people say he's giving them steroids but dad swears against it. So does mom.” She watched Josie grimace, and cut her off before she could correct herself, “--I’ve seen boys roided, they look nothing like them.” she spoke before taking a sip of her coffee. Josie nodded, an almost fascinated look on her young face, “So it's true then..” At this, Tallulah raises her eyebrows, “ what's true?”
“Your mom sent you here because you got mixed up with some guys who did drugs or whatever. At least that's what Lenna said she heard dad say”
Of course she did, so much for a fresh start, she thought.
Tallulah rolled her eyes, “Sort of, I guess --”
Now she was being interrupted, a large looming figure was now standing at the edge of their table, greeting Josie, she watched as the younger girl blushed in response, before saying “Hey, Ethan. Uh, this is my older sister, Tally or um, Tallulah,” Josie fumbled over her words as she introduced her. Tallulah looked up at the towering boy with a half smile, nodding her head as a way to say ‘hey’ , Ethan nodded back before asking, “I didn’t realize you guys were sisters. Do you go to school off the rez?”
Tallulah shook her head, “I did but I just moved here from Seattle. I start at the rez school tomorrow.”
He nods before engaging with Josie in conversation about some project they were working on and she can’t help but look over at the boisterous table in the far corner, she can see Paul and another boy glance at her as they talk, she excuses herself from Josie and Ethan, the coffee in her mug no longer appetizing and itching for her little blue rectangle in that moment.
Tallulah makes her way up to the bar-like counter, the waitress coming to take her order almost immediately. She orders a sweet tea, hoping to wash some of the lingering bitterness from her mouth, hoping it would help curve her cravings. She can feel someone come up next to her but doesn't bother to look who it is as she fiddles with a napkin, the waitress comes to take their order and their voice sounds like velvet in her ears despite the hint of gruffness to it.
“You're Joseph Forester's daughter, right?” She hears him ask, she looks in his direction to see he's already looking at her, a small cocky, smirk toying on his lips. He already knows the answer clearly. She wants to roll her eyes and tell him to fuck off, but she can’t bring herself to do so. So, she nods and softly says, “Yeah, Tallulah.” This causes him to actually smile, like he's thankful she didn’t just blow him off. That hot, cocky persona is nearly untraceable now,
“I’m Paul Lahote.”
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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years ago
Note
*hesitantly steps in the box* Umm.. soo.. I was listening to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift again and that song (is awesome btw if you haven't listened to it already) just gives me such MAJOR drarry vibes .. like -
" And I screamed, 'for whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?' He looks up grinning like a devil. "
Like if that's not drarry I'd chomp my pillows. So .. *twiddling thumbs* could you pls write something with that line as a prompt?? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ maybe use the song as inspiration.. idk? Whatever you like. ALSO, don't forget I STILL LOVE YOU that ain't changing yet and you haven't seen the last of me! Imma tail after you for eternity and you better take that as the threat it is! *throws love at you* BYE!! ❤️❤️ *vaults outside the box*
my sweetest most loved angel!! thank u so much for this prompt based on a BOP i was obsessed w when the album first came out. it got sm longer than it was meant to be, so it can be found on ao3 as well!! i hope u like it ilysm ❤️❤️❤️❤️
warnings for minor drug use (weed) and implied suicide of a minor character (lucius, extremely vague reference but pls be aware!)
rating: e word count: ~5k
When Pansy asked him how it started, Draco discovered that he didn’t know what to tell her.
Technically, though, it had started at Ernie Macmillan’s party in the beginning of summer, with the cloying scent of Freesias and Freedom Roses (“Imported from the States,” Ernie told Draco pompously, when he asked) and all those string-lights dangling from the cedar pergola, perennial balls of fire inside their clear bubbles like tiny trapped suns. Cheap beer in plastic cups, Marlboro cigarettes, and some stupid Muggle game ... darts.
Technically.  
* * * 
“Get off me, Potter,” Draco says in a failed whisper. He’s laughing and drunk and fuzzy warm under a sprawling summer’s night sky that looks like black paint. Potter tastes like Guinness every time he kisses him, and his hands are surprisingly soft. In direct opposition to his own command he pulls Potter in by the face and glues their mouths back together ravenously. The alcohol makes him sloppy (he likes it, though — the sloppiness of it) and Potter’s skin is warm where Draco slides his hand under an ugly Muggle band T-shirt to touch. 
Around the corner, he can hear music coming from the patio where nearly every single one of their former classmates are gathered, drinking and laughing and getting along famously with a much-needed buffer of five years between them and their Hogwarts days.
Much-needed for himself and Potter as well. Apparently.
He sees him sometimes, at get-togethers like this or around the Ministry, once or twice at a dinner party thrown by a mutual friend. They’re always cordial. He hasn’t insulted Potter to his face in five years.
Except for tonight, when he couldn’t help himself loudly drawing attention to the similarities between Potter’s hair and one of the shrubs in the garden. But they’re kissing now round the side of the house and because of that he’s quite glad for his slip. And it’s their five-year reunion, so. What would it be without some bickering between the two of them?
Potter presses him into the bricks and snogs him breathless, only he keeps grinning and laughing and ruining everything just when Draco starts losing himself in it.
“Quit laughing,” he scolds him. “You’re the worst, Potter. No etiquette at all.”
“That’s rude,” Potter says. His breath wafts across Draco’s mouth. His eyes are excessively green behind their round frames, which have not changed since their school days. The scar is mostly hidden beneath his wild fringe, save for the very bottom where it slashes neatly through a dark eyebrow and touches his eyelid. “I can’t help it, I’m pissed good and proper.”
His hand moves to Draco’s hip and even through the thickness of the alcohol coating his brain like a muffler he feels that touch clear and ripe as daybreak.
“So  that’s  why you’ve decided to snog me rather than …” He waves a hand vaguely, in lieu of the proper witticism with which he might normally have trounced Potter. “You know. Beat me to a pulp.”
“I only did that one time,” Potter says, grinning. Grinning and moving his thumb in circles on Draco’s hip. “And it was because you were being a twat. And I didn’t beat you to a pulp. You’re so dramatic.”
“Semantics,” Draco says. “I had a bloody nose.”
“And you deserved it.”
“Now who’s being rude?”
Potter kisses him again.
Guinness and Freesias.
* * * 
“Macmillan’s party,” he told Pansy. “He kissed me.”
“So that’s where you disappeared to.” She looked smug. Her inch-long nails were sharpened to a point and painted a glossy black, and she drummed them against her cheek, the way a cat flicks its tail. “I’m surprised you kept it from me this whole time.”
“Well,” said Draco, lowering his gaze to his glass of wine and watching it flirt dangerously with the lip as he swirled it. His cheeks felt warm, but he wasn’t embarrassed. “We snuck around.”
Right, maybe a little embarrassed. Mostly conflicted.
“Oh?” For a single syllable the laughter underneath was remarkably transparent.
He looked up, eyebrows lifted. “Yes,” he said a little defensively. “For obvious reasons. At first it was just sex. A lot of it, so he usually came here. Apparently Granger and the Weasel are notorious for popping round his place unexpectedly.”
* * *
He feels opened up all over again every time Potter fucks into him, unhurried and so careful. His hand is hot on Draco’s thigh, both of them sticky with sweat and come. This has to be their third round at least, and Draco’s sluggish brain insists it might actually be four.
An open window lets in the late afternoon air, humid and drowsy and perfumed heavily with flowers (a la Macmillan, Draco planted Freesias and Freedom Roses outside his bedroom window and helped them along to full bloom with some careful magic). Potter’s hair is damp with sweat — from exertion and the relentless heat of July — and Draco slides his fingers into it, tangles them and pulls the way he’s learned Potter likes. If he’s honest, he’s harboured a very secret and  very  desperate yearning to touch Potter’s hair since he was quite young. He doesn’t know why.
Well, maybe he knows why.
Potter makes a quiet, whimpered noise that curls Draco’s toes. He speeds up his hips, closing in on his orgasm and putting his face in Draco’s neck even though it’s too fucking hot for it.
“Fuck,” Draco whines. He tries to lift his leg higher, wrap it around Potter’s waist to get that perfect angle, but they’re too slick with sweat and he lets out a frustrated noise when it falls back to the bed. “Potter,” he says helplessly, arching into each thrust and shaking with the effort. This third (fourth?) orgasm is building too slowly, sitting there hard and stubborn and heavy in his gut and refusing to be coaxed to completion. He’s dripping with the effort, muscles quivering. “Please — I need —”
But he seems to have figured it out for himself. He scoots forward, lifting Draco’s arse higher off the bed and bending him nearly in half. The angle helps him go deeper and he’s suddenly nudging Draco’s oversensitive prostate every time he fucks back in.
“Right there,” Draco gasps, tensing as this new angle lights a fire under his elusive orgasm. His cock is leaking but he doesn’t have the strength or energy to get a hand around it. Potter’s grunting with the effort of fucking him, sweat dripping down his temples and making his neck and torso gleam. “Right there, god, right there, please, I’m so close —”
Potter braces himself and redoubles his efforts, and it’s like he’s reached inside Draco and sunk his claws into that building storm in his belly because suddenly it’s ripped right out of him in a colossal wave of euphoria that approaches too much, cock spurting untouched between them  .  Potter keeps moving inside him while he rides it out, and at some point he feels the warm, wet explosion of Potter emptying in him, mumbling incoherent things that include Draco’s name.
They come down together too. Draco is clutching Potter’s arms and trying to catch his breath and Potter is trembling and clutching him back like an anchor in a veritable ocean of sensation. 
It’s like this every time. 
When Potter drops down onto the bed beside him Draco rolls over and kisses him, long and deep and satisfying, and Potter reciprocates with the kind of intensity that is completely unique to him as a person.
“That one was particularly good,” says Potter, and Draco laughs.
When he feels like moving, he knows that Potter will get up and go to Draco’s kitchen and make tea for both of them, and he won’t need to ask what Draco likes, because he remembered after the first time. They’ll drink it naked in bed as the sun sets on another endless summer day and transforms before their eyes into a humid and pungent summer night, in the midst of which they will fuck at least three more times, and Potter will keep smelling like sweat and bergamot and boy, and Draco will keep feeling starved for him.
And they won’t talk about it.
* * *
“And?” Pansy said.
“And what?”
“You said ‘at first,’” she pointed out, and arched a groomed eyebrow. “When did it turn into more than just sex?”
Draco tamped down on a smile, because that would have been more emotion than he cared to show at the moment. To Pansy or to himself.
He swirled his wine again and took a long sip, stalling. He wanted — needed, really — to talk this out with her, but he was becoming aware of an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest which was suggesting to him that he didn’t want to share everything. Not because he was embarrassed, but, well … it was private. It was between him and Harry.
“There was this one night he came over later than he was supposed to because of work,” Draco said. The memory stirred some emotion. He hadn’t thought of it in a while. “He had this bloody huge takeout bag of Thai food.”
 * * *
He sets it down on Draco’s desk, takes out a container, and after toeing off his shoes drops sideways onto Draco’s bed with it and uses chopsticks to shovel in a mouthful of noodles. Draco watches this in awe.
“Want some?” Harry asks once he’s swallowed (small blessings). There’s grease around his mouth. “There’s a million other things in the bag but you have to get it yourself. I’m dead tired.”
Draco thinks of asking what the hell is going on, because they’re supposed to be fucking by now, but something stops him. Harry really does look exhausted but quite content eating his Thai food on Draco’s bed, and he doesn’t have the heart to berate him for it or remind him that they’re fuck buddies, not friends, and that if he’d wanted to eat and lounge about perhaps he should’ve stayed at home.
And the food really does smell good.
He gets up and fishes another container out of the bag that turns out to be some sort of heavenly-smelling marinated beef, which he brings back to the bed. Harry’s rolled onto his back and has the container of noodles balanced on his stomach.
“They thought they found a Horcrux on a raid,” he says. His voice is perfectly casual, but Draco thinks he can see something troubled in his eyes. He has one foot crossed over the other and  it’s bouncing anxiously; he doesn’t think Harry’s aware of doing it. “Wasn’t. Obviously.” 
“But they needed your expert advice to be sure.”
“Yeah.” Harry looks at him, then his food. “Is that the beef?”
“Yes it is.”
“Good?”
“Haven’t tried it yet.”
He opens the container and chooses a piece, but instead of lifting it to his mouth he follows some crazy impulse and hovers it over Harry’s instead.
“Open, Scarhead,” he says. Harry blinks but does it, and Draco drops it in. He smiles, then chews.
“Brilliant.”
* * *
“We ate it instead of fucking. It was the first time I realised something had shifted.”
“And you let it shift?”
The question gave him pause. He didn’t answer right away, mulling it over. It made it sound as if he’d had a choice, and that wasn’t quite right.
“It already had,” he said finally. “It wasn’t a matter of letting it; by the time I noticed, it had already happened. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come over with the food.”
“But you did let it continue,” said Pansy. She wasn’t antagonising him, nor accusing him of anything. She looked amused, but not in a way that was at his expense. Pansy was both a twat and a fiercely good friend, the combination of which meant she would do nothing more or less than hold up a mirror and force you to look at yourself, gruesome as the experience inevitably wound up being. “Even after you realised he had feelings for you.”
Draco swallowed. He’d not heard it said aloud before now.
“Yes,” he said. “It felt good. Knowing he fancied me.”
* * *
Harry’s shameless in his staring.
He stands in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom and watches Draco like he’s been invited to do so. Draco pretends not to notice, stretched out in a tub full of bubbles facing the opposite way. There’s incense burning, and candles. Harry is completely silent, but Draco could feel those eyes on him from across a crowded hall.
They fucked a few hours ago and fell asleep afterwards. Draco pretended not to think about it, but had actually made the conscious decision to let Harry continue sleeping when he woke up and decided he wanted a bath.
When he can’t take it anymore he opens his eyes and tilts his head back and a little to the side, just enough that he gets Potter in his peripherals.
“Well?” he says. 
“Well what?”
“Join me, won’t you?”
Harry snorts. Then there’s a quiver of magic in the air, and a small, utilitarian chair appears out of thin air beside the tub. Harry sits down in it. He’s holding the joint they’d only gotten halfway through earlier. 
He’s in his jeans and nothing else, all limbs and sparse chest hair, and when he crosses a leg over the other one, elbow resting on his knee as he hits the joint, Draco feels a bone-deep attraction to him that’s beyond physical.
“May I?” Draco asks. Harry hands it over and Draco inhales deeply before returning it. The humidity of the room mixes with the smoke and the smell of marijuana, pungent and cloying like the flowers. 
After a length of silence, Draco says, “Will you read me something?”
“Will I what?”
He takes his wand from the floor and Summons a book from the shelf in his room — one of his poetry collections comes sweeping in through the cracked door and into Harry’s lap. Harry sticks the joint between his lips and starts rifling through it with his glasses all fogged up. 
When he starts reading Byron (“I had a dream, which was not all a dream”) Draco smiles and sinks deeper into the hot water and bubbles, letting Harry’s voice lull him into a pleasant stupor. 
 * * *
“So you led him on,” said Pansy. “Because you liked his attention.”
He stared at her, then let his gaze drop to his wine again. Had he?
“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”
“Well,” she said, smiling wryly, “I’m only saying it as you’ve told it to me. Maybe if it sounds bad, it is bad. Some things are that simple, darling. Unless there’s more to it.”
“Like what?” he said, not looking at her. There was a touch of pouty defiance in his voice he knew Pansy would detect instantly. He heard her sigh.
“What exactly happened yesterday, Draco? You didn’t give me any context.”
“What context do you need?” he muttered. “He told me he loved me.”
* * *
They’ve finished an entire bottle of wine between them. He’s not drunk, but he’s pleasantly buzzed. Harry’s sprawled on his back, T-shirt rucked up just below his navel so Draco can see the dark trail of hair leading below his jeans. There’s something implicitly erotic about the movement of his chest when he breathes, his hands folded behind his head, one leg stretched the length of the bed and the other bent at the knee.
He opens his eyes suddenly and grins when he sees Draco looking at him. 
“That wine just made me tired,” he says.
“So go to sleep,” says Draco. He takes a last swig, emptying it, and sets the bottle aside on his night table. He stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, yawning widely, thinking perhaps he’ll give into the tempting allure of sleep as well when Harry says, “I told Hermione about us.”
So he’s not sleeping, then. His stomach clenches hard and a completely irrational sense of panic rises in his throat.
“Us?” he says slowly, sitting up straighter. “What ‘us’?”
Harry looks at him upside-down, then rolls over and rises to his knees. He stares at Draco blankly.
“‘What us?’” he repeats.
“Yes,” says Draco. “What ‘us’?”
“Us,” Harry says. His voice is lower than usual. The word is starting to sound weird and lose meaning. “You and me, Draco.”
“‘You and me?’ Harry, there’s no you and me. We’re just fucking. What do you … what do you mean, you told Granger? Told her what?”
Harry looks … well, he looks fucking crushed. And angry. Draco forces himself not to look away.
“I told her I’d been seeing you,” he says quietly. There’s something … not threatening, but close to it, in his voice.
“Sure,” says Draco. “I see you three times a week, sometimes four. I s’pose if you feel the need to fill Granger in on everything you do with every second of your day —”
“Shut up, Draco,” Harry says. “You know what I meant.”
Draco glares at him. He gets off the bed, slightly lightheaded from the wine, horrified by the emotions welling up inside him right behind the panic, and he points at his bedroom door.
“Get out,” he says. 
“Are you serious?”
“Go!” he says loudly, voice rising. “If you’re gonna start turning this into something it definitely is not then get out of my flat, Potter.” As usual the window is open, but it’s the third of September and getting chilly finally and Draco’s Freesias and Freedom Roses started wilting last week. There’s a chilly breeze coming into that room that is utterly barren of the sweet smells of summer he associates with Harry these days. “It’s time we ended this anyway,” he says. “Summer’s over.”
“So?” From his position kneeling on Draco’s bed Harry shouldn’t feel imposing at all, but he does. There’s no sparkle of humour in his eyes, none of the softness Draco’s gotten used to seeing there. He looks like someone who’s realised they’ve been betrayed.
Worse than that. Someone who’s been betrayed and realises they should have seen it coming.
“What the fuck does summer have to do with anything?”
“Ever heard of a summer fling, Potter? We’re not ‘seeing each other’.”
Harry finally gets off the bed. Draco’s stomach clenches again, more painfully this time. He doesn’t feel bad, he tells himself — this is Harry’s fault. His fault for making a big deal out of something easy and fun and, most of all, temporary. For ruining this with feelings. 
 “That’s not what this was,” Harry says. It’s not an argumentative tone; rather, he sounds disappointed. Devastated, and disappointed. And that look of betrayal, like he’s surprised but not …  that  surprised.
That hurts. 
“This was as real as it gets, Draco,” he says matter-of-factly. “You and I don’t have the capability of doing anything as shallow as a fling.”
“Well, Potter,” says Draco, straining to maintain his level voice, “congratulations, because that is the most disgusting, romanticised, Gryffindorian piece of shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah?” He grabs up his wand from the bedside table and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. “Well here’s another: I love you. You complete fucking prick.”
Draco stares after him as he leaves the room, cowed for the moment. He hears Harry take the Floo powder off his mantle, hears the fire start, and then the sound of Potter disappearing. 
And he feels hollow suddenly.
* * *
“And he said it completely out of the blue?” 
Draco set his wine aside. He was suddenly feeling too sick to put anything else in his body.
“Sort of,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “He was trying to make something out of nothing. He was just making a point, trying to guilt me, I don’t even think he meant it.”
Pansy said nothing for so long that Draco finally looked up. She had an eyebrow raised.
“Do you really believe that?” she said.
Draco didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the bottle of wine on the table and thought about the way it always tasted a little sweeter on Harry’s lips.
“I don’t know,” he said. “No. But it doesn’t change anything. It was a summer thing, not a … a relationship, for crying out loud. Like I’d date Potter.”
“Why not?”
Draco scoffed. “Why not? Pansy, please. He’s a …”
“A …?”
“He’s an idiot! He’s Potter!  He’s …” He couldn’t think of the right word, something bad enough to express the audacity, the gall , for Potter to think even for a second  that they could …
“Draco Malfoy,” said Pansy. She was smirking. “You love him too.”
Had he felt sick before?  Now he was going to be sick.
“I never would’ve imagined it,” she went on, seeming to take pleasure from his outrage and humiliation. The bint. “Look at you, you’re blushing! Oh my god,” she laughed. And then she stopped laughing, and instead the weight of her own words appeared to descend on her. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? You are arse over tits for Harry Potter —”
He was up and out of his chair before she’d finished the last word, absurdly,  embarrassingly on the verge of tears all of a sudden. 
“Draco —”
“I’m glad this can serve as your entertainment for the week, Pansy,” he said. A tear rolled down his cheek — could he be any more histrionic? — and he brushed it away furiously. 
“Draco, no —”
“Call Blaise, tell him!” he shouted. “You two can have a good laugh over it —”
“Draco  —”
“Poor Draco’s  fucked himself over again, what a stupid wanker!” 
Pansy got up. He slapped her hand away when she reached for him, but she only came at him again and grabbed it this time when he swatted at her, enfolding it in both of hers. He closed his eyes and hiccoughed and two more tears came.
“Darling, will you please listen to me?” she said softly. It sounded eerily like his mother, which only made him feel young and childish. He tugged his arm away and she let him go, but he didn’t move any farther away. “I am  not  laughing at you,” she told him. “Blaise might, but that’s because Blaise has a black hole for a heart, Draco, the only emotion he’s ever felt is disdain.” Against his will, Draco chuckled wetly. Pansy smiled and took his hand again, tentatively. He allowed it. “ I think it’s lovely that you have feelings for him. I don’t understand what’s got you so upset, I mean … I know it’s Potter, but we’re not teenagers anymore, right? Who cares?”
Draco exhaled a long sigh.
“He let my father go to Azkaban,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. He saw comprehension dawning. “How can I be with someone who could’ve saved my father’s life and chose not to, Pansy?”
“No one could have saved your father, Draco,” said Pansy gravely. His throat was tight, swollen. He hated that he was hanging on her words, looking for truth in them,  wanting to hear something that would make this okay. “He would have done the same thing if they’d let him go back to the manor. It’s not your fault or your mum’s or Potter’s.”
“But —”
“But what?” she cut him off sharply. “Draco, please don’t let your father keep controlling your life from the grave! My god, you deserve happiness, don’t you see that? Even if it’s Potter! In fact, I … I think that could be really good.”
“What, being with Potter?”
“Yes, being with Potter,” she said. “Darling, I say this because I love you: you need to grow a pair of bollocks and start taking control of your own life. I’m not finished!” she added when he opened his mouth to retort. “I understand that it feels like a betrayal of your father, I do, and I’m not saying you can’t have your cherished memories of him, but Draco … you cannot live your life in his shadow, doing things because it’s what he’d want or wouldn’t want. I think that choosing to explore these feelings you have for Potter is the bravest and healthiest thing you could possibly do for yourself.”
He stared at her for a long moment, eyes wet though the tears had stopped falling. 
“What if it doesn’t last?” he said finally. “What if next week he realises it was a huge mistake?”
“First of all, I doubt that,” said Pansy with a roll of her eyes that was clearly meant to be teasing. “You said you’ve been seeing him all summer, that’s plenty of time to have gotten sick of you. And, even if that did happen, I still think it would be entirely worth that week of being disgustingly in love.”
“Do you?” he drawled.
“Yes! I do!” She picked up his discarded wine glass from before and held it up. “Does the effect of alcohol last forever?”
“No …”
“Of course not! And we don’t expect it to. We expect to have fun while we’re drunk and it’ll last as long as it lasts.”
“Dating someone isn’t like being drunk, Pansy,” Draco said sourly.
“Oh, that’s not the point ,” she huffed. “We don’t do things because we know they’ll last forever, we do them because we want to. In the moment.”
“Sounds irresponsible.”
“Well, of course it is,” she scoffed. “Love is completely irresponsible, that’s the fun of it, Draco. Now take this,” she shoved the glass of wine into his hand, almost spilling it. “Drink up, and then get your arse over to his flat and fix this.”
* * *
Granger opened the door. Draco sighed.
“Hello, Granger,” he said lamely. Her raised eyebrows said she was surprised and thoroughly unimpressed by his appearance.
“Malfoy,” she said.
“Is Potter in?”
“I guess that depends.”
“On?”
She looked at him, dark brown eyes impenetrable. Then she closed the front door behind her.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“To talk to him,” he said tightly. As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough, now he had to pass a test to get past Granger the bridge troll. “I thought he told you —”
“He did,” she said flatly. “And about yesterday.”
“Well I’m here to apologise,” said Draco. Granger’s eyebrows lifted again. Still unimpressed. “And to tell him …” He sighed again and broke eye contact, willing himself not to give up, not to take this as a sign he should just go home and ream into Pansy for giving him such bad advice.
“Malfoy.” He looked up. Her voice was softer now, and her eyes seemed a little less hard. “What are you doing? You really hurt him, you know.”
“I know,” he said stiffly. “I said I’m here to apologise.”
“Well he doesn’t need an apology,” she said. “If you’re only going to let him down again —”
“I’m not.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at her again, exasperated, defeated. “I’ve … had some sense talked into me.”
She looked like it was the last thing she’d been expecting. 
“Have you?”
“Yes,” he said. “So would you please get him for me before I lose my nerve?”
It was the right thing to say. Her expression melted into something much softer and he fancied he even saw the beginnings of a smile.
“Can I ask who affected this change of heart?”
“Pansy,” he said. And, when Granger seemed taken aback, “She’s very wise when she feels like it.”
“I see. Well …” She still looked a bit conflicted, eyeing him and then putting her hand on the doorknob. “All right. I’ll tell him you’re here, anyway, but he was really hurt, Malfoy. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he said.
Granger eyed him another moment and then went back inside, shutting the door behind her. Draco only had to wait a minute before it was opening again, and this time Harry came out. The sight of him made Draco’s heart feel tender and sore.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi, Potter.”
He waited to see if Harry would say anything else but he didn’t. He only stared at Draco expectantly, arms folded, in all ways closed off.
“I came to apologise,” said Draco.
“Well you can keep it,” said Harry. “I don’t need an apology because you told me the truth.”
“It wasn’t the truth, Potter,” Draco said quietly. “Opposite, really.”
Harry was silent. Then, “You made me feel like shit, Draco.”
“I know. I’m sorry. You freaked me out, springing it on me like that.”
A beat, then two, and then suddenly Harry was dropping his arms and sighing and he looked at Draco with so much vulnerability he nearly had to turn away from it.
“I didn’t mean to tell you …” He licked his lips, scratched his arm. It reminded Draco that beneath everything, Harry was still the same awkward dorky leader-of-the-losers he’d always been, just with a bit more confidence now and the title of Official Saviour of the Wizarding World. “I wouldn’t have said that if … I was just angry.”
He didn’t need to ask what Harry was referring to.
“I know.”
“Not that I didn’t … I mean, I … I do —”
“Please don’t say it again,” Draco said. Harry laughed.
“Right. I just meant … I really do have feelings for you, Draco. Like … mad, crazy feelings, y’know? I don’t want it to be a fling.”
“It wasn’t a fling,” he said. He moved a little closer and Harry watched him carefully, eyes flickering once down to Draco’s mouth. “I didn’t even sleep with anyone else the whole time.”
“Well that’s good to know,” said Harry sardonically. But he was smiling, so Draco found himself smiling tentatively as well.
“I wanna be with you, Potter. Properly. I thought …” But he shakes his head, deciding that now isn’t the time to explain about his father. “I thought it was a stupid idea. Now I realise that it probably is, but that I don’t really care much. I’ve decided to ignore my better judgment this one time.”
“That’s quite Gryffindor of you,” Harry commented drily.
“Yes, well.”
“So I go against your better judgment, then?”
“Potter,” Draco sighed. “Please, I don’t mean it like —”
“I’m taking the piss, Draco,” Harry cut him off. He reached for Draco’s waist and pulled him close, and before Draco could get his breath back from a short, surprised intake of breath Harry’s mouth was on his, warm and familiar and soothing. He brought his hands to Harry’s face and kissed back without bothering to hide his overwhelming relief.
Harry chased his mouth when he pulled away and Draco breathed out a laugh, holding him at bay with a hand on his chest. 
“We have plenty of time,” he said. “D’you wanna come over later tonight, after your friends leave?”
“What? No, come in.” He took Draco’s hand and gestured with his head towards the door. “Please. It’s just Ron and Hermione. They know everything.”
“Really?” Draco drawled. “And you think Weasley won’t try to kill me?”
“I promise not to let him,” Harry grinned. “Please, Draco. You said you wanted to do this properly, right?”
He thought of what Pansy said about being irresponsible, and decided it was worth a try at least.
“Okay,” he said. Harry beamed and tugged him inside.
Towards his ultimate downfall or towards the beginning of the rest of his life, he didn’t know. That, as Pansy would have said, was the fun of it.
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necros-writing-stuff · 3 years ago
Note
He was bound under you. His hands and feet cuffed to the bed to keep him in place. It's for his own good, you told him. He'd get himself hurt if you didn't restrain him. Imagin what all the bad people out there would do to him if he wasn't kept safe in the loft. The other orphans wanted his head, and so did you. Just, not the one the others craved. The room you chose for him was spacious. It was next to the room the orphans made bread and soup in, and away from where they made pepper spray. You'd furnished it more nicely than he had the bedrooms the orphans had to use. You'd even moved some of his actual things in.
He had a nice soft bed, with sheets you had to drug him to clean. But they were Egyptian cotton and felt great against your skin. The mattress was a cooling, memory foam with a down feather comforter to keep him warm at night. A walnut wardrobe and matching dresser filled with his clothes. A record player you found while going through the things he kept in his home, away from the orphanage. He even had a radio, set to that awful old person station he liked.
Bailey got three full meals everyday, regardless of his behavior. When he was good, you'd go out of your way to make sure it was something he liked. You didn't like having to drug him, and only did so when he was being especially vindictive or refusing to eat. He learned quickly not to threaten you with something happening to Robin. Hurting him wasn't something you enjoyed. But it was how you found out he liked it when you pegged him. Well, like was a subjective word. He came so hard it hit the ceiling when you used the strap. He was a spoiled captive, if you did say so yourself. Getting off on his punishments like he did.
You were straddled on his waist, your slick folds pressed against his leaking prick, pinning it to his abdomen as you admired his naked body. The way the aphrodisiacs made him flush down to his chest and color some of his tattoos red. Your fingers gently traced the "ACAB" tattoo on his collar bone.
"I brought something special for you today." You spoke with a sweet, almost loving tone. The hate Bailey felt for you couldn't be understated. He refused to answer you with anything other than his already heavy breathing, and furious glare. You gave him a toothy grin before hopping off the bed. He bit back a groan from loosing the heat of you against his needy cock. He wasn't going to give into whatever this was so easily. No matter how badly he ached for realease.
He watched as your naked form crossed the room to his dresser, forcing his gaze to stay on the back of your head and not dip to watch the way your ass moved. You'd put a few shopping bags down when you had first come in. He figured it was more stupid shit you were trying to buy his compliance with. When you pulled out a pink vibrator and matching silicone dildo, he got nervous. When you pulled out a bottle of lube, he felt the pit in his stomach drop.
You padded back over to him, toys in hand. Bailey grunted when you dropped back down on his lap, squeezing his eyes shut so you wouldn't see them roll back into his skull. Fuck, whatever you gave him was stronger than normal. Just having your tight heat touching his shaft was almost too much, but equally not enough. He huffed out an angry puff of air before opening his eyes to glare at you again.
He watched you set the the items down next to him, on the bed. You raised your hips and lined the engorged head of his massive cock to your tight, little pussy hole. You moaned like a whore as you sank down onto him, all the way to the base. You watched his jaw clench and his muscles go stiff, his cock throbbing inside you. He was fighting his orgasm, refusing to cum just from being engulfed by your welcoming cunt. It felt good. It felt so fucking good. He knew that even if he weren't drugged it would feel like heaven inside you. Probably why so many people wanted a piece of you. He'd never tell you that, of course.
"You're so big. I can see you in my belly." You put your hand on where, in fact, he could see the outline of his cock distorting your stomach. Bailey only grunted, thankful you were waiting to adjust so he wouldn't blow his load. Skank you were, raping him; you probably weren't using any protection with him. He definitely wasn't wearing a condom. You never put one on him, preferring to go bare back.
As your poor body took the time to relax around Bailey's considerable girth, to once again picked up the toys. You used medical tape to attach the vibrator to Bailey's sack, resting the remote on his chest. Then, awkwardly, you prepped the dildo. Bailey's hands clenched into fists.
"Don't you dare." He hissed through clenched teeth. You smiled at him.
"We're going to see how many times you can cum tonight." With that, you began to slowly work the dildo into his ass. Bailey grunted, trying to fight the slicked intrusion. But when it was about half way in, a choked, surprised cry ripped itself from his throat and he came hard inside you. You gasped at the feeling of it, like a firehose of cum filling your hole and spilling out. As his body slowly relaxed, you eased the rest of the dildo into him. Shame painted his features for only a moment before being replaced by an indignant, hateful glare.
He was still breathing heavy, still flushed and still hard. You were sure he could go a few more rounds easy. Before Bailey had the chance to say anything mean, you began riding him. For a moment, all higher functioning in him stopped. You started slow, he was still sensitive after all. A lazy rocking of your hips into his. Once he recovered fully from his first orgasm, you turned on the vibrator in time with your pace increasing. You planned to fuck him stupid by the end of the night. Leave him a sweaty, cum covered mess that'll feel you all over him in the morning. Something you'd always wanted him to do to you. Once you broke him, maybe you could trust him enough to let him.
For now, you set a fast, deep rhythm that has him hitting your deepest parts every time, making you clench around him. When he started shaking, you reached down and began fucking the dildo into him. Again forcing noises out of him you'd never heard before. He'd blame it on the drugs later, but you were hitting his sweet spot each time. The vibrator on his balls, your gloriously tight pussy riding his stiff prick and the dildo stretching his ass quickly overwhelmed him. Bailey's whole body went stiff, his back arching and his hips bucking up hard into you as he chased the euphoria of his high.
The sight and sound of him was enough to push you over the edge with him, your pussy milking him and prolonging his already intense orgasm. He'd never cum harder in his life nor had he reached such an intense peak. But the night had only just begun. You placed a loving kiss to his lips. As much as you wanted to explore the inside of his mouth with your tongue, you knew he'd bite you. Maybe you could french him after you pulled a few more rounds out of him and his brain shut off.
(- anon 🚩 I wanna fuck Bailey stupid and dress him in some white, lacey lingerie.)
Bailey would look so good in lingerie and he'd hate it. Hate that you're pampering him like that.
And Bailey holding off cumming like that is- 😳
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toraashi · 4 years ago
Text
‘tis the damn season (ft. oikawa tooru)
Pairing: Oikawa x Reader
Genre/Warnings: angst, fluff, implications of sex (there’s no sexual dialogue, the most explicit it gets is i use the word “whimper” once but theres not even graphic descriptions like i rate this PG-13), a couple swears
Word Count: 1.5k
Summary: part two to this fic. Oikawa visits for the holidays after leaving for Argentina years ago. Catching up with his old flame brings back memories and reminds him of a love lost
Author’s Note: this is inspired by ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. It’s so good, please listen to it, it’ll add so much to the story because I reference it lots :) also i’m dedicating this to @hikariakaashi bc she agreed to be my valentine this year hehe 🥰 also @u-make-my-heart-tsumtsum​ thank you for hyping this up in the discord :))
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“the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you.”
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"Hey, it's Tooru. I'm in town for the holidays. I'd like to see you."
The sound of his voice as the audio repeated left an unpleasant feeling in his chest. It burned like longing but twisted and lurched like nervosity, a sensation he pretended he wasn't familiar with. Oikawa wasn't a nervous person. He was a confident, suave man with the world in his hands, but for some reason, leaving a voicemail for someone this dear to him, who could see through him like glass, left a slight tremble in his fingers. 
The ding of his phone startled him, muscles growing taut. 
10:36am
It's been so long! I'd love to see you. Would 4 at that old coffee shop work?
received
Holy shit. 
It was almost embarrassing how his breath caught and his heart stuttered. It had been years, but yet here he was, hooked in with every word.
10:40am
I'll make it work 
sent
10:42am
That's a first ;) i'll see you then 
received 
The coffee shop hadn't changed much since he'd last been. The walls were still straining with the wooden roof's weight, the floor still comprised of creaky floorboards that screeched at each drag of a chair. Sparkling red and green lights decked the rafters, hanging low and casting unique shadows across the residents. The lobby was relatively empty, and he was seated quickly at a metal table near the window. The round teapoy rocked on uneven legs when he put his arms on it, but nostalgia made up for the shoddy furniture quality. The poignant smells and whispers of piano music wafted over him like a tender memory, leaving him with visions of your sunrise smile and golden touch breezing over his fingertips. Content was the next emotion that settled over him, but before he could melt too far into it, the bell on the door jingled. Chilly winter air rushed through his hair, waking him up from the dream that was the last few years and bringing him back home. In the blink of an eye, a familiar arm was pulling at the seat in front of him. It took his brain far too long to process the rosy cheeks and snow-dusted hair before him, but once he did, an infectious grin tugged at his lips.
"Long time, no see." Your gaze was cautious and guarded, and it burned holes in his euphoria. 
"Long time, no see," you repeated with a light smile, "How have you been?" 
"Ah, you know, just capturing the hearts of every person in Argentina, how are you?" That earned him a tinkling laugh, and his heart beamed at the reward. 
"I'm doing okay, just living my life." You greeted the waitress, plainly speaking your order, pausing to glance at him before ordering his old favorite. Honey hues glittered with unspoken fondness when you caught his gaze; he couldn't help it.
"You remembered my order. I feel special."
"Shut up. You are special, Mr. Pro Volleyball Player." You teased, inching your fingertips towards him on the table. It wasn't enough to be wanton, but he noticed, and he couldn't help but reciprocate. Eyes flicking to his hands and back up, that cautious glaze returned. "So, are you staying in town?" A warm hum in affirmation thrummed in his throat.
"I'm staying at my parents' house." 
"For how long?" The words seemed full, but he wasn't sure with what. 
"Just the weekend." He held your gaze like a taut string tugging you closer and closer. The air felt heavy, and his heart ached with a longing he'd suppressed for years. You opened your mouth to speak, but before anything came out, he interjected boldly. After all, what was he, if not bold? "I got your letter." Hues big and lips parted, a pink flush climbed your cheeks. If he was the same person he was years ago, he would've teased you, but now? With his heart on his sleeve and your eyes staring into his soul, how could he muster that courage up?
"And?" The single word was meek and tentative, fragile like the little bird of your unyielding love. 
"Well, for one, your attempt at scratching out the last line wasn't great." There was the teasing. He couldn't hold it back for long. 
"Shut up." You shied away from his crinkled eyes, pinker than you were when you stumbled in. God, he missed this.
"I won't." He drawled, closing the narrow distance between your fingertips and enveloping your hands like it didn't electrify his nerves. "And for the record, I missed you too." 
"Did you?" He rubbed a calloused finger across your knuckles, holding your eyes confidently. 
"How could I not miss that pretty face?" 
"Stop teasing." You pouted.
"I'm not." Pensively, you stared back at him, and he admired the furrow of your eyebrows, the puff of your pouted cheeks. Your smaller hands were quaking in his, and just as he considered laying off, you spoke a conglomeration of words that shuddered up his spine.
"Would you like to stay at mine for the night? We can catch up more? I don't want to leave you just yet." A genuine smile simmered up his lips, and he linked his fingers between yours.
"You know I can't say no to you." 
"Didn't seem like it when you left." The magic in his chest faltered at the blow, but the regret was evident in your expression. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I know it was about more than me." he hummed, the affectionate graze of his thumb against your knuckles resuming. 
The conversation felt much too short, every move you made clenching his heart, brimming it with innocent nostalgia and longing. Before long, you were tugging him out the door, leading him to your apartment in a movie-worthy montage. The silver moonlight caught your hair like silk, your gossamer grip on his wrist balmy and familiar. 
"My, you're eager." When you glanced back, your eyes sparkled like the sequins on your prom getup from so many years ago. 
"Is it stupid that I missed you so much?" The way his heart caught in his throat was almost painful. Chest aching, he concluded that this was what happiness felt like, a hummingbird flutter he'd never find in the falsities of fame. You, who knew him like the muddy road to your secret high-school hangout spot, looked ethereal beneath the moon's knowing smile. As you approached the door, he couldn't help but dip his toes into the subdued desire he'd grown to ignore. 
Your chest pressing into his, your back to the door, his fingertips firm against your waist, and finally, the brush of your reposeful kiss against his needy lips, it left him with frantic desperation clawing up his body. You broke away with a similar gleam tucked into your gaze like a secret just for him. Swinging the door open and fumbling with your jacket, you found your place in his arms again, a mutual craving for a love that was cut so short.
He did many things that night he'd only remembered in dreams, his frame pressing your familiar figure into the bed, lips tracing every line of your silhouette, the dips and curves in your skin, sealing each forgotten memory in an envelope for him to read later. Just for tonight, he'd bask in your entirety, the glow of your smile, the whimpers that spilled past your pretty lips, everything that was purely you. When everything was done and gone, the flaxen glow of your lamplight flickering out, you pulled him into your arms, twirling the chocolate strands of his hair, breathing in his adoration, your own lulling him into a long-awaited, dream-filled slumber. He dreamed of his past self getting lost in the empty arms of another, the void carved out by your existence impossible to fill. He dreamed of the life he'd lead if he'd remained in your embrace, waking up to you every morning instead of cold sheets. 
He awoke with the December sun, your bare skin blinding in the morning's glow. Glancing at the red numbers on your nightstand, he stretched his arms. It was almost ten, but the warmth of your body reeled him back in like a fishing pole, his mouth splattering kisses across your visage like freckles. Swelling with delight, he collected you into his arms, setter's fingers revisiting the map he drew on your body like the ink was still drying, greeting you with a grin as your eyes lolled open. 
"Morning, babe." Oikawa scanned the love-struck expression painting your features, the scrunch of your nose, the quirk of your lips; he inhaled it like it was his last breath, coming to terms with the time and its draining sand. Raising a lone finger, he followed the shape of your jawline, locking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Sleep well?" You neglected to respond, searching his gaze. 
"If this is the last time I ever see you, I want you to know that I've always loved you, and I won't ask you to stay." The last grain of sand in the hourglass tumbled through the glass gap, the alarm clock on your nightstand beeping abruptly, stealing Oikawa's breath. 
And as he looked upon your effervescent figure, shattering his own battered heart at the realization, Oikawa decided the road not taken never looked more appealing than now.
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hwrryscherry · 4 years ago
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The one with the New Year’s Eve
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characters: HARRYxMODEL Y/N
blurb: It’s Dec 31st, 2020 and this is the first time since they started dating that Harry and Model Y/n won’t be traveling for New Year’s Eve but an outing to the Rockfeller Center may be all they needed.
word count: 4.6K
author’s note: HI GUYS!!!! So first of all I wanna say MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR to everyone🥳🥳 I know I've been MIA BUT I had a major writer's block and it felt so bad and I couldn't finish this blurb even though I was trying so hard. Anyway, here it is and I hope you like it as much as I do. I also want to say that the reason why I closed my requests it's because we're starting a new year and I want to release all of my requests before receiving new ones. I'm excited for 2021 and I hope it brings all the peace that 2020 didn't. And I'm also very excited to see where 2021 will take Harry and Model Y/N's relationship🥰 Anyway, Happy New Year everyone, I'm so grateful for the support I've been receiving about my writing. I see all of you and I appreciate all of you. THANK YOU!!!♥️♥️♥️♥️
— Can I wear this? — You’d ask looking at Harry while holding one of his dress shirts that was light bluely, with some navy blue strands in it up in the air showing it to him. It's an old shirt, though. You remember buying it for Harry in your first year of dating and you also remember probably wearing it more than Harry himself.
   Harry was sitting by the couch on the living room of your NYC apartment. After spending such a magical time with your families in the French Alps, you both decided that spending christmas with your family was more of a priority than going on your annual new year's trip and that's the reason why you and Harry decided to come back to the USA and after being in LA for so long, New York just felt like the perfect choice. You like Los Angeles, but New York hit different. You loved everything about NY, and you loved the memories and story you created to yourself in NY and that's why you'd choose NY over LA without thinking twice.
   Anyway, Harry was in the couch using his personal phone what made you assume that he's probably talking to his mom or Gemma because it's already 2021 in London and Cheshire, and unlike him, you had already sent Gemma and Anne a text earlier today because they knew that you took hours to get ready even though you're not even preparing to be "glamurous".
   Harry had his pink velvet pants on and a white shirt over it, and only complementing with his vans. Not the old "white" one with the pink shoelaces that he wore everywhere, including in the Vogue cover. Tonight he was wearing the good traditional vans. That one, that is black and have the Vans icon in white. And you couldn't smell from the spot you were but you could assure yourself that he was smelling like heaven, as he always does with his perfect hair that has just been washed, his freshly shaved beard and his nails, that even though wasn't painted by a professional, you can be proud of your job and honestly, so could Harry, because he really loved that you did his nails for him and even matched with yours. Otherwise, you were using a black baggy jeans and a bra because as always, you were procrastinating for too much time and had to get ready when Harry was already ready. A typical night out for both of you.
   Harry lifted his head to analyze your figure in front of him and the cloth piece you had in your hands as he listened to your voice and question directed at him.
— Sure! — He answered your question getting his attention back to his phone right after speaking. You sighed and calmly walked towards the man on the couch and sit besides him what brought his attention to you. You rested your right hand upon his thigh and then rested your chin on his right shoulder and stared at the boys captivating green eyes.
— You're alright? — You asked with a low voice tone giving the boy a tender smile. Harry looked kinda sad, not sad, he seemed a bit down and whenever you noticed he looked like this you would usually get worried about him because you just care and love him so much that you never want to see him in anyway but happy.
— Yeah, I am! — Harry said, but it sounded more like a whisper or a murmur and you kept your gaze at him waiting for him to tell the truth and he sighed letting out a chuckle. Sometimes he'd just forget about how great you knew him. He'd look to his feet upon the grey carpet of your living room and then back at your face on his shoulder — Just feel bad, ye' know? If we were in other circumstances we'd be with our friends or family having the most fun in some place around the world — He'd tell you as he widens his eyes a little and you felt his muscles tense under your hands — It's not that I won't have fun just with you, love —  He'd now complement making you let out a small chuckle at his words because of course you understood exactly what he was saying even though you didn't say anything yet — It's just different, like, there won't be having any shows by the Times Square and all that stuff and I wanted it to be fun for you.
— So...you're worried about me not having fun tonight? — You'd ask him with an ironic tone and raised eyebrows lifting your chin from his shoulder and staring at his face. Your mocking expression and tone was based on the irony f the situation because earlier today you were talking to him about how most of the times that you were together you just felt like you could be stuck in a room with him forever and it would be the funniest thing you've ever done.
— Kinda! — He'd murmur deflecting his gaze from yours until he listened to you let out a giggle which made him look immediately at you as he tried to understand why you were laughing and if you were mocking at him for being that worried about something very silly.
— Harry...how could you even think that? I’ll always have fun with you! — You'd say lively with a smile on your lips and then take a deep breath while you finished forming the words you were about to say in your mind — It's been such a long and hard year and we had some amazing moments and some really bad moments but we're here. We're alive, we're healthy and most of all, we're here together and believe me, even if the world ends by the time that clock turns midnight, there's no other person I'd rather spend the end of the world with — You'd say making a little fun of the "end of the world" conspiracy that you've read previously on that same day and couldn't help giggling with Harry as you'd hear that same angelic sound coming from his mouth. You'd take your hand that was upon his thigh and grab his hand taking it to your lips giving a slight kiss to it feeling the cold metals of his rings against your cheeks and then you gave him a tender smile — Don't worry about it, it'll be great! It will be more than great, it'll be exquisite!
— Alright, alright! — Harry'd say with the cutest smile on his face. That type of smile that you could feel his happiness through it. Now he took your hand to his lips and gave a peck in it — You should finish getting ready though, weren't you the one that was dying for pizza and burgers? — Harry’d tell you mocking at the fact that you've been talking about wanting to eat pizza and burgers from NYC for the past three days in a row and how annoying you were being about it. And with his comment you'd fastly stand up with the shirt in your hands and look at him with a cheeky smile in your face.
— I'll go, I'm sorry for being the best girlfriend in the world and use my time to comfort you! — You'd say ironically as you walked back to the bedroom listening Harry's laugh and a "You're forgiven" being loudly said by your boyfriend.
— By the way, I don't think you should go out only with that shirt because it’s freezing outside! — Harry said on a loud tone from the living room and you'd look up to the big glass window in your bedroom and realizes that he was right. It was probably 32 °F outside and only this shirt wouldn't make you warm enough, so you'd walk to the closet placed in your bedroom and take a dark grey long sleeve blouse and dress up before complementing with Harry's dress shirt and taking out of the closet your brand new leather jacket that you gained from Gemma on christmas day, remembering how perfect it was becase Gemma knows you well enough to know that you'd love it when she bought it. And lastly, you put on shoes that looks more like boots. And finally, with your jacket and your bag in your hand you walked into the living room after turning off the bedroom light.
   You were completely ready when you'd step in the living room with your phone in your hand getting all the attention from Harry that immidietely stoped using his phone to admire you. One of the things that Harry most loved in you is that you don't need to put on the most glamurous outfit or makeup to look stunning and you knew that. You knew that you were beautiful in your own way and if you felt like glamming up, you'd be gorgeous and if you didn't feel like it, you'd still be gorgeous. Harry admired your tomboy styled outfit. He'd admire how your hair fell upon your face as you finished typing on your phone and how you'd use your hand to put a strand of hair behind your ear, giving to him the vision of your gold earrings that was also a previous birthday gift from him. He'd admire the fact that both of your nails were painted the same color because you only had one good nail polish to use so you'd go out matching nails color. He'd admire how the delicate golden rings on your fingers would sparkle because of the light in the room and he'd notice too how your face looked pretty with the small amount of makeup you had putten on your face for the night and he could only imagine how great you smelled now with the one perfume you use since the day he met you and he'd remember how much he loves that scent. He loved everything about you. He loved even the small things about you that stressed the shit out of him. He learned to love your annoying habits just as much as he loved the precious little things about you.
   Harry would stand up from the couch putting his phone on the inner pocket of his black coat as he walked towards your distracted self on the phone. You'd only notice him when he'd stop right beside you looking at your figure. You'd stop looking at the screen of your phone and lift your head up a bit to see the man's smiley face beside you. He was silent and it seemed awkward so you'd let out a chuckle and frown a little at him.
— What are you doing? — You'd ask him holding a mistrusting look on your face as you waited for him to pronouce anything as a response.
— I just think that you look really pretty and I love you! And your hair looks really pretty, though — Harry would say quietly with a tender smile on his face as he listened you murmur a "aw, thank you, love!" with the biggest smile on your lips. He knew how much you loved when he compliments your hair so he'd do it often just to make you smile this big. He'd use his hands to cup your face and lean in a little to give you a peck in the lips — Let's get going! Where do you want to go first?
— Honestly, I wish we went to The Greens at Pier 17 because it looked really cute this year in the pics I saw — You'd tell him as both of you walked towards the door and left the apartment walking to the elevator as you both put on your masks. Your apartment was situated in East Village so depending on the place you'd choose to go, it would take you a while to get there and that's the reason why neither of you had enough patience to drive in NYC, specially on a night like this one because the traffic in New York can be considerated out of this world.
— Isn't it open? — Harry would ask pressing the elevator button to take you to the lobby of the building and feel as the elevator started to go down with both of you in it.
— No, it was between 6 and 10pm, I guess! — You said pressing your back agaisnt the elevator wall as you felt it going down. It's crazy, but whenever you enter a elevator you think about what would happen if it starts collapsing, yes, it's weird — But all I want is to eat a pizza from East Village Pizza because I haven't eaten it in ages — You'd complement letting out a chuckle feeling the elevator stops at the lobby floor.
— Alright, we can go eat pizza and just hang out! Will you be meeting Bella? — Harry said as the elevator door opened giving both of you the iluminated vision of the streets lights coming through the big glasses in the front of the building. You and Harry walked past the porter and both of you smile at him and waved before leaving. You both are very familiar to Toby, the porter of your building and that's the reason why you'd wish him a Happy New Year before leaving, and you also have lived in this building in the past 5 years probably.
— No, she’ll spend it with her family. They’ll all spend it together because of the baby, I guess — You'd answer him feeling the freezing air run through the skin of your face at the moment you'd step in the street. You'd notice the wet floor underneath you because it rained the entire morning and the beginning of the afternoon, there was no resting sign of the snow that happened some days ago but you could definetly still notice the past rain, specially because of all the christmas lights that iluminated the streets now.
   You and Harry walked your way to the East Village Pizza because it was really close to your house which at this moment seems amazing but it's not. It takes you a lot of control to not dine their pizza everyday though. Pizza it's pizza, if you don't like pizza you can't even be consideraded a human being, just saying.
   You and Harry could notice the few people leaving their houses as you walked, and some of them were already by the streets though. The thing is that the big New Year's Eve attraction in New York is the Ball Drop in Times Square and this year is not allowed to have a crowd in there so the streets wasn't completely crowed and honestly that made you feel a little better. It's just that paranoic feeling that when you're around a lot of people you start thinking that one of them is infected, probably everyone during this pandemic had felt like this at some point.
By the moment you and Harry arrived at the pizzeria and ordered your slices of pizza Harry couldn't hold back his laughs at your liveliness that you also couldn't hold back for finally eating your pizza. The place wasn't as crowed as it used to be at this time of the night and that's why you and Harry could take a sit in one of their empty tables. You and him would talk about silly things. You both would talk about the ending of Gossip Girl that you had just watched this afternoon because it was shocking to both of you. You'd talk about the songs you just added at your playlist and you'd talk about what you wanted to do tomorrow on the first day of the year.
— I don't accept any other plan that you can make but if it's to stay cuddling in bed with me all day, love — Harry would say and you'd giggle at his words. He had a point though, because you couldn't imagine anything better to do tomorrow than stay cuddled up in bed under the heavy blankets with him all day long; maybe watching a movie or starting a new tv show together as you just finished gossip girl, you'd probably starts Bridgerton because you have already read the books and you loved it. And then take as many naps as you wanted. It sounded perfect and he knew you just couldn't resist to it.
   It didn't take too much for both of you to eat your pizza slices and as you ate it, Harry would take tons of photos from you all smiley eating your pizza while dancing to a random song that was playing in the background of the pizzeria. Harry loved to take random pics of you and he'd do it everytime he had a chance, which was quite often. But he did it because this way, whenever he was away and his heart ached missing you, he could go on his gallery and see all the random pics he has from you and in some way feel closer to his girl and god, so did you. Even though none of you shared the millions of photos you'd have of each other's in your phones, it felt so good to have them with you whenever you needed it to make your hearts warmer.
                                        ...
— Alright but, do you think that Brad and Angelina slept together before or after he and Jen "broke up"? — You'd randomly ask Harry as you both left the cab that was taking both of you to the Rockefeller Center because a walk from East Village to Rockefeller Center would be a hell of a walk. You both felt the christmas lights on your faces and your eyes were glowing because of them and you couldn't think of a prettier thing in this moment. It wasn't your plan to celebrate the New Year's Eve in New York and actually, the last time you've celebrated it in this city was about four years about before you even met Harry. And honestly, it just feel really cool to go ice skating in Rockfeller Center and then later go dinner somewhere and starts 2021 with a person that you really loved and appreciate on a city that you really loved, and maybe this wasn't what you planned but it was what you needed.
— They definetely were! — Harry said almost immidietely making you let out a loud laugh over his comment. You love when Harry gets into his gossiping mode, it's probably the best thing ever. He doesn't do it much when he's sober, but when he's drunk he'd just say everything you ask him and that's usually really funny, expect for sometimes when he'd tell things that are supposed to be a secret — Just look at their movie together. You could see the sexual tension and no one will convice me otherwise!
— I know but he had a sexual tension with all his co-stars! Don't you remember Legends of the fall? He had a sexual tension with his brother's fiancé that later marries his other brother — You'd argue back to him as making your point. You and Harry are definetely the "Netflix & Chill" type of couple, and as in quarantine you stayed home, you and Harry watched tons of movies on netflix and you'd always take your time to discuss them pretty often. Movies, music and books are the things that fullfill both of your souls the most and that's the reason why you'd often get caught up on discussing the things you've saw.
— It wasn't sexual tension, it was chemistry. It's different, love! — Harry'd argue back throwing his arm upon your shoulders as you both walked closer to the small line of people that were waiting to go ice skating. And you'd stop walking as realizing that you and him just arrived at the right spot and as you waited on the line of the ice skating, you had your back pressed on Harry's chest as he hugged you from behind to take the cold away as you talked. It was a nice time where you could just catch up about your thoughts while admiring the christmas lights and the people on the rink, and if you must confess, laugh a little about the people that couldn't ice skate. Harry told you about his plans to release the Treat People with Kindness music video tomorrow and talked about working with Phoebe Waller-Bridge and had to deal with your drama about not meeting her for what it seems like the millionth time, but you did make it pretty clear to him that you were so excited about the video because you haven't watched it yet because you wanted it to be a new year's surprise to you. You told him about how you missed walking the runaway and everything you want to do in 2021 in your professional career and also personal life, like the books and movies you wanted to read and watch and the places you wanted to visit.
   Anyway, it didn't take you long to get on the ice skating rink, and it also didn't take you more than two minutes to start regretting it. You were clearly not the best skater in the world. You weren't even 50% good; reasonable, would be the right term. And so, when you didn’t have the ability to move gracefully and lightly across the ice, and instead had to skate by holding on to the bars or Harry's arm and then after, having Harry insisting on trying to let you skate alone and then having you to crash into on the floor, Harry couldn't help but laugh. The boy laughed so hard, in a way where he couldn't even breathe properly from laughing so much, and you couldn't contain your own laughs either. Of course, Harry helped you up and then asked you a thousand times if you were okay and you hadn't been hurt, but the scene was just too fun at the moment not to laugh and you'd admit it.
   At around 11:20 pm, you both retired from the skating rink as your time was up and then, you walked away from the short line to the ice skating rink getting a little far away from the line. You used your right hand to move some strands of hair from your face as Harry carefully looked at you.
— You're sure you're alright? — Harry asked one last time making you glare at him with an annoyed look at your face becase he had already asked this about forty times now. He'd shrug his shoulders and put his hands inside the pockets of his black coat — Alright, you're fine.
— I am, love! — You said wrapping your arms around yourself while moving your head to look around you before getting your gaze to focus on Harry's face again — Should we go to a restaurant? Because it's almost midnight! — You asked Harry that looked the time as he took his phone off his pocket to see that the clock indicated the time to be 11:25 pm.
— Yeah let's go! And it's cold here! — He'd say wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you both started to walk again. The things is that near Rockefeller Center, there was plenty of cool and great restaurants that of course you had no idea if they were or not open but it didn't cost you to go check and that's why you'd walk around it to see — Oh, let's go to Bill's Bar and Burger. I want nachos and fries so bad — Harry would say as he stopped walking abruptly in front of the restaurant making you to gaze at the place and then at him.
— Oh my god, yes! — You'd nod at him as you both walked inside the place. You've been in it before and the menu was spectacular, the burgers were so amazing and the place was really cool, though. It had a dark wooden floor and tables and big glass windows that gave you the perfect vision from outside and at the moment you both entered the space you noticed that it wasn't extremely crowed but it had a few people. The televisions in the walls transmitted the Times Square New Year's Eve performances and you sat at the table in the corner of the wall with a padded accent.
You'd take a look at the menu and order. Harry'd order a alcoholic beverage, unlike you that'd go with a coke because if your boyfriend went wasted you needed to take him home and take a 6'0 foot taller man home after few drinks can be quite hard. You'd order fries and nachos for Harry because he just eats fish now and then orders a chicken burger for you and then some milkshakes because you were going to eat all that you wanted as it was the last day of the year.
While your orders were being prepared, you and Harry talked about the christmas trip with your families and how funny it was. You'd talk about how the hell could you both forget about the christmas presents and how thank god you could find good new presents in the last minute. Harry would probably tell you about a life story of his starting by "in my epoch" sounding like he was forty years older than you because he knows that this pissed you off. He's three years older. It's not like it's a lifetime. But you'd find fun on his stories, just like he does to yours because even though you're younger than him, you both came from different sides of the world. From completely different families and cultures and it's so cool to share your experiences with each other. With the time, you and Harry learned that everyone had something to add in your life. Something about art, or about bad feelings or good feelings. Something about love, about friendship and jobs and opportunities. You both would reflect about how you just find things and people in life that makes you whole. You grow older and start noticing what really matters. You and Harry always travel on New Year and this year you didn't and being there, on a bar in New York just with each other having the most fun as you shared your stories, made you realize that it's not about the trip or the journey. It's about the person you have on your side as you doing those things. It's about having someone that you love at your side to share the good and the bad and after a hard year, you're lucky for having each other and getting out of it stronger than ever.
When the countdown started, everyone in the bar starting to count as well. You used your phone to record both you and Harry as you both counted. The camera caught the big smile perfectly that you and Harry had on your faces, and it actually caught the cheese from the french fries that Harry was previously eating right in the corner of his mouth but we don't have to focus on this part just yet. When the clock turned midnight, the entire bar screamed happily and you and Harry turned to each other with the happiest smiles ever, hugging each other sharing the "Happy New Year" and then sharing your first kiss of 2021, just as you both did three years ago when the clock turned midnight entering 2018 and you both shared the first kiss of your life. You've been kissing since then.
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yandere-wishes · 5 years ago
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💔Rotten Love💔 //Twisted Wonderland Yandere Idia Shroud X Yandere Eliza X Reader// Part 1
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GIF made by the amazing @flowerofthemoonworld. Okay, so this story is really going to have a Persephone x Reader x Hades vibe to it. If we can get this to 160 likes before July 12 than I’ll release part 2. For now, my goal is to make it a 4 part story with a bonus 5th fluff chapter. Also for this story reader will be GENDER NEUTRAL.
WARNING: Gore, Angst
💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙
There was always a cold, nostalgic air in the Ignihyde dormitory, a sort of homey sensation that made Eliza's heart skip a beat. Sure the dorm was quiet and secluded, unlike the ghost kingdom, there was barely anyone to talk to. Most may have even described it as "lonesome" and "boring". But to princess Eliza who had waited more than five hundred years to be with her prince charming, it was unadulterated, homespun bliss. Of course, there was still something missing, a tiny puzzle piece that refused to fit in with the rest of its kind, a stubborn little piece it was, yet all too important to paint the picture of her perfect life. That mulish fragment came in the form of her newly wedded husband, Idia Shroud.
"Idia~"
The "young" princess sang as she skipped over to where her "husband" was sitting, his posture crooked, like that of a scrunched up cat's. His long slender fingers where typing rapidly on that bizarre rectangular device that he all too attached to. Way too attached to, for Eliza's liking.
Eliza nuzzled her visage into the crook of the bleached-skinned boy's neck, taking in his smokey, ash-like sent. Her icy colored arms wafted over his shoulders, enclosing them his a tight embrace. Her fingers dangled over where his heart was, feeling tiny fast-paced pulses that sent a pleased blush to her face. "Idia let's go for a walk near that river. Please, my love! You haven't left this room since the reception!"
The taller male barely turned to look at her, preferring to instead to keep his eyes locked on his glowing blue screen. "Still busy Eliza" his cold dead voice was always so sharp and monotone whenever he spoke to her. It felt like someone was reaching into her rib cage and squeezing her decaying heart. Her voice cracked into a thousand tiny shards, as she tried to form a comprehensible answer. He might as well have told her to die again and rot in the deepest parts of hell. He doesn't love me....he'll never love me. The relation was like a heavy chronic toxic gas levitating overhead. Easy to overlook but still there, always there. Idia didn't move, if Eliza's arms weren't wrapped around his shoulders feeling every breath he took, she might have mistaken him for a statue. No, not a statue, she thought, some sort of sculpture of an ancient Greek God. A divine being set in stone resting in an altar, waiting for reparations and benedictions. 'I'd gladly pray at your feet every day. I'd sacrifice everything I had just for you to smile that charming smile at me'. The ghost thought to herself.
For an endless minute, the darkroom fell into a thick, suffocating silence. Neither Eliza nor Idia moved both too scared of breaking some invisible glass wall they had put up around them. However, no amount of serenity could dispose of the awkwardness, and annoyance Idia was beginning to feel. "You know" the lord of the dead began "maybe you should talk to the principle about join the school full time. It would give you more to do than breathing over my shoulder" despite Idia's tone harboring no malice, Eliza still flinched in shock. Her body going rigid, stiffening as if she was going into Rigor Mortis again.
HE DOESN'T WANT YOU HERE!
The voice in her head screamed,
HE HATES YOU!
Louder...
WHY CANT YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE
"Please stop" she whispered
YOU DON’T DESERVE YOUR PRINCE!
"If that's what you want" she finally replied in a broken voice.
"I'm... I'm only saying it for your sake," he muttered in a coaxing tone.
Deep down a delusional part of her wanted to scream that he was only saying all those harsh things for her own well-being. But she was still lucid enough to not believe those fallacies, imaginary words...Eliza perceived that her beloved prince Idia saw her as nothing more than a nuisance.  One that he was far too eager to get rid of. 
She couldn't bear the conversation any farther. Painfully slowly she peeled her arms off from around her so-called lover. In that taunting minute, Eliza swore she could feel billions upon billions of sharp needles piercing every piece of her dead body. She lingered in place staring at Idia's glowing, blazing hair. She didn't want to leave, she wanted to spend every second of her dead life with him! Touching him, kissing him, loving him! But he wouldn't love her! Why didn't he love her!! Without a customary goodbye or any form of acknowledgment, Eliza flew to the door. Swinging it open just a crack, wishing to slam it so hard that the whole underworld dorm would feel it. But alas she was still royalty and there was a politeness beaten into her every action. In the end after much debating, she closed the damn door quieter than a mouse. With a broken heart and eyes full of tears, princess Eliza began to hover up onto the surface of the school grounds.
WHY DOESN'T THAT SELFISH BASTARD LOVE ME!
A simple blaring thought that reverberated through Eliza's nonexistent skull as she marched through the glowing green halls of Night Raven College. Unlike Ignihyde, the rest of the school still felt rather alien and terrifying to the girl. She'd only been in the cafeteria for a short amount of time. Only to finish up her official marriage to Idia. After the marriage -and much persuasion from his friend with grey hair and glasses-  Idia had carried Eliza in the traditional manner a groom must carry a bride, to the hall of mirrors and straight to Ignyhde. Neither of them had left Idia's room since then.
It was a rather short memory but one that always placed a smile on Eliza's face. Rather than remembering the halls, Eliza had been all too bewitched by Idia's shy golden gaze, his bloody red face, and his kissable thin blue lips. Such a darling memory that she would always cherish within her rotten heart.
But as the minutes ticked away and Eliza passed hallway after hallway all identical to one another, she soon began to wish that she'd paid more attention to the whereabouts of the school's rooms and offices. The headmaster's office seemed to be missing from this endless maze. Behind every corner was the same tiled floor, candles lit by a mystical green light and windows so large they put the countless classroom doors to shame. Every few minutes a crowd of students would pass by, disappearing behind another wall withing second. No one noticed her, which was rather odd considering she was the only female in an all-boys school, her purple dress and feminine curves were proof enough of that. "I guess this is the result of being a ghost, wandering the land of the living" She whispered hopelessly to herself. "You're invisible when you're me..."
The eighth turn that Eliza took brought her to a small cluster of peculiar students. Some donning ears and tails like those of wild beasts, while the other had odd features resembling Ortho's limps. Metallic and reflective. They were laughing at something, attentions enclosed within their small groups. A measly thought flew into Eliza's head, why not speak up? Raise your voice and ask where she could locate the headmaster of this complex establishment.
"Excuse me."
“....”
Silence
None of the boys turned to her, they just continued with there chatter. Eliza opened her mouth to speak once more when she -rather unwillingly- picked up stray words from their conversation.
"It's not fair!" A tall lanky one with striped ears and tail whined
"Yeah! How come that useless shut-in gets to get married to a cute girl !" the second one was even taller, with thick furry grey ears that reminded Eliza of a wolf.
"Look man I don't know what Idia has that makes him so damn lucky! He's a useless wimp..." A Bold statement made by the one with metallic features.
Eliza was sure they continued bashing Idia but the phantom pain of blood coursing through her ears droned them out. How dare such hooligans speak ill of her beloved husband! Her fingers flexed in a robotic-like movement, stretching open than closing once more. Around her tiny flame-like spirits began to materialize, cute and cheery with big eyes and smiling mouths...until they noticed the distress of their mistress. the tiny things took a look around, grasping the situation from the loud words of the boys as well as Eliza's grim expression. Slowly the little flames began to merge with one another. Fusing into a large ax with a burning end. The weapon floated down to her hand, positioning itself smugly between her ghostly digits.
Eliza's eyes locked with the backs of the boys, she didn't know how this would work, could the ax could even harm the living? It may just phase through them as if nothing had happened....or it may price through there flesh and bones, tearing them in two. Hosting the ax up over her shoulder with both hands and taking a shaky step forward, Eliza lunged towards the first boy. In a swift flick of her wrist, the blade of the ax was pushing through the Ignihyde student's back. Splitting ceaselessly at the skin and urging past muscles until it reached the creamy colored bones. Eliza didn't stop there, her arms still pushing forward trying to get the heavy ax to break those pesky osseins. He had to pay for what he said! No one was permitted to speak ill of her one true love! A satisfying crack filled the air followed by a choir of screams. Only when the ax had finally resurfaced on the other side, covered in plasma and the remnants of organs, did Eliza turned her attention to the other two students. There eyes where enormous staring at her in disgust and fear...and something else. Something that -although it revolted her to her very core- she wished Idia would look at her with that same look in his eyes. A look of want, a look of need, pure lust, yet the welcoming sort ONLY if it was coming from the person you adored so much.
The blue-haired ghost didn't move, her semi existent body felt overworked. Everything hurt! Or at least she thought what she was feeling was the ghost equivalent to human pain. "Why.." her voice glitched at every syllable, like a broken cassette player. The two boys didn't answer instead taking shall strides backward. "WHY DID YOU SAY SUCH AWFUL THINGS ABOUT HIM!" in a split second, anger over ran Eliza's boy once more, dragging her and the ax forward until the blade came in contact with one of the animal eared men's neck. Slicing it so it flung backward, crashing onto the ground with loud "thud" then rolling around in its own gore. The last man stand, the one with monochrome ears pushed his palms forward, a pathetic attempt of shielding himself from her wrath. "W-we..we d-d-did...didn't-t mean...mean any..offense...honest!" His voice creaked as tears gushed from the corners of his eyes. "You're...you're just so...so...pretty...beautiful even...and...and...Shroud well...we...well, he's a loser who w-w-wouldn't kno--" his words were left half-finished, as Eiza's ax severed through him diagonally.  
Her heart was pounding much too fast, that it was beginning to make her feel sick. Her legs finally gave up, sending her crashing onto the blood coated floor.  Her bare knees dug into the red liquidy substance, finding an odd comfort in the warm human ichor. Eliza didn't know what to do, or even where to go. If she went back to Idia like this he would surely use it against her, Ortho was too young to be introduced to such a carnage...and she didn't know anyone else! "I'm all so very doomed" she sobbed as transparent tears trailed down her eyes.
"Hey" A distant voice spoke up. "What's wrong with her?" another voice, this one more high pitch and raspy. Eliza tore her face from her hands looking up at a group of three strangers and a cat...no, not strangers, she recognized the orange and blacked haired boy. They both had tried to crash her wedding. But the other person was new, they had a gentle look in their eyes, a welcoming stare that the princess longed for. "Hey ghost bride," The orange-haired boy spoke up, "need some help with your mess?" Eliza nodded meekly. Her body still limp and voice still too frail to speak. The last person, the one that had unexpectedly piqued Eliza's interest extended a hand towards her. And with only a scrap of hesitation, Eliza gripped it.
"Come on, we'll help you out!"
💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 👻💙 
Tags: @yandere-romanticaa​ @ghostiebabey​ @lovee-infected​ @mermaid-painter​ @firemelody4​ also tagging @twstpasta​ and @delusional-obsessions​ cause I know they're huge Eliza fans.
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echo-three-one · 4 years ago
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Chapter 26
Schedule another appointment... (I guess)
The road so far
Previous Chapter : Off the Grid
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Thanks @smokeywhalee for the second variation ❤️
What's Behind Door Number Two
Francine "France" Winters
MacTavish Residence, Glasgow, Scotland
Francine never knew this about John MacTavish. He was sure full of surprises behind that arrogant smirk of his. No wonder he oozes confidence. He was a man raised to be proud of himself.
While Gary was all talking about which rooms were occupied, Francine diverted her focus elsewhere. He didn't understand any word he said, instead she looked intently at all the pictures on the wall, the furniture on each hallway and the design of the house. This was the house that raised one John MacTavish. It was beautiful, each photo on the wall described how happy his family was. Each of his achievements were plastered on a grand hall along with trophies, certificates and plaques of his parents. Francine's curiosity toward the man that he wanted to learn more about, was all answered in this house. How much more intel would she get if she gets a glance of his room?
She shook off the ideas scrambling on her mind once she imagined what's inside John's room and how she could get access to it. It was far too early for those thoughts.
"See something ya like?" A mental image of John sprawled across the bed wearing just his boxers assaulted her mind. She felt her cheeks fluster as the mental image continued to play inside her mind.
Maxine nudged her and she completely shook off the memory and immediately nodded, not knowing what she agreed to do. Then it dawned on her. They'll be sharing the same room.
Gary exchanged a few words with Samantha where it involved a little sophisticated exchange. Maxine laughed at it while she proceeded to their room. France whispered that she'll be using the bathroom and quietly excused herself.
Price and Jack, together with Nikolai were gathered around the huge tv in the living room. They were intently watching news clips regarding the culmination of Nero's New York Assault.
"Excuse me, Captain? Where's the bathroom?" She asked, Price didn't turn but pointed toward a hallway. She immediately said her thanks and proceeded to the direction of Price's finger.
There were a lot of doors and France opened them one by one. One consisted of the study, an equally spacious place filled with books. Another one led to a downstairs gym. She was getting tired of opening the wrong doors and she decided to climb up the stairs and check on another door.
She hesitated opening it as it looked far too fancy to just be a bathroom door, but judging from the overall appeal of the house, anything was possible.
She turned the knob and pushed the door wide open revealing a huge navy blue walled room. Posters, flags and paraphernalia of football clubs were hung around the walls along with some notable paintings of scenic landscapes, all coloured and appealing to the eyes.
Her eyes slowly trailed down and turned to the door as it swung open, a very naked John MacTavish emerged from the bathroom door. It was all too late, he didn't even notice it but as soon as she squealed in surprise, John automatically turned and ran to the bed, quickly wrapping himself with his black bathrobe.
"What are you doing here?!" Was all he could ask. France could see him from the hole she made in between her fingers while her hand covered her face.
"I'm sorry, John. I was uh… looking for the bathroom..." she muttered, slowly closing the door, leaving her head peeking.
"The room to the far end of the left hallway." he muttered. He didn't sound mad, but she could sense shock in his voice. Who wouldn't be?
"I'm sorry." She slowly closed the door and paced to the bathroom, trying to forget anything that happened after opening that door.
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With Ghost around, Francine sat beside Maxine, who now knows about the situation. She told Roach that she needed to bond with her sister and the considerate guy agreed to temporarily switch places.
Dinner was very awkward for Francine. After that event earlier, she couldn't look at John in the eye and if by chance she accidentally did, the mental image which was now no longer a figment of her imagination, kept reappearing. She couldn't help it, she was already admiring the man.
"I'd like to propose a toast." Price stood up and raised his glass of water. Everyone else seemed okay with the motion and followed.
"But before that I'd like to thank Soap for letting us stay in this wonderful home. Please extend our appreciation to your family."
France's eyes trailed carefully toward John as he nodded and replied, averting her gaze as soon as his eyes moved.
"Will do, Captain. And please, don't be shy and feel at home." he said, his voice mixed with the accent made France's heart skip a little as she loved that about him.
"Now for my toast… 'To apprehending Shepherd and putting a stop to Nero!'" he roared.
Everyone cheered and raised their glasses, clinking it with the person beside them and drinking it afterward. France knew the procedure but as soon as her lips met the glass, her eyes accidentally met with John's, the blue piercing gaze behind the eye scar made her freeze, she immediately closed her eyes after downing her glass of water and breathed heavily.
He saw it. She knew he saw it. Why was she like this with him? Aside from the fact that she really likes him, why be awkward? She looked down and panted her lips still wet from the excess water she drank.
"You okay, France?" Maxine asked.
"Yeah. I just choked on my water. I'll just go to the bathroom." She said, excising herself and making her way to the bathroom. This time, she was sure it's the right door.
As soon as dinner was over, France distracted herself from thinking about John, so she decided to help out Roach and Maxine make their shopping list for tomorrow.
Roach yawned and stretched his arms, landing his other hand on Maxine's shoulder. France noticed this and immediately darted out an eye to Gary as he shyly withdrew his hand and instead tapped it on the wooden table.
"So what else should we get?" Maxine tapped her pen along with Gary's tune.
"Sugar." Gary said, watching Maxine write it down legibly.
"Hmmm." Francine hummed, she imagined herself inside a grocery store and put herself in the situation. What should she buy for ten people?
"You know that huge sausage thing from Germany? I wanted to know what they taste like." Gary asked, picturing the item with his hands. France's mind went somewhere else and she didn't want that to happen.
"You mean bratwurst?" Maxine answered, smiling as Gary looked very satisfied that he found the word he was looking for.
"Yeaaah! That one!" he cheered as Francine silently excused herself hiding the blush of embarrassment burning in her cheeks.
She paced to the hallway on her way to their bed, just as she thought she could finally relax, John was already on the other end of the hallway and was walking toward her direction.
She tried to avoid him but it was far too late, she had no choice but to face him seriously. He was wearing a red checkered sleepwear matching his pajamas and it looked like he outgrew his old clothes too, making the fabric cling desperately to his muscles.
"I've been meaning to talk to you since dinner." he exhaled, France looked elsewhere as to not recall anything.
"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong because…" he trailed and she felt guilty. John didn't deserve any of this from her and she wanted to clear things with him anyway.
"No… it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong… I just felt awkward after what happened earlier."
"It was an accident, France. Shrug it off as a bad memory that your mind wouldn't want to recall. It's unfair for me, you know. The last time we got together I was happily hugging you while we slept and now you're doing everything you can to avoid me." he explained. He was true except she couldn't consider it as a bad memory.
"Besides, I couldn't think of any other reason you're avoiding me other than you can't stop thinking about it, eh?" he wiggled his eyebrows. There he was again with the ego. France blushed red and almost wanted to cry, until she felt John's warm embrace and it immediately cleared her mind.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it that way. When I cracked the joke, you weren't the usual snob that I grew to like." he whispered and she then knew that he already knew her too well.
"It's okay." she croaked as she saw Ghost exit his room their eyes met and she could see the sadness in Simon's eyes. So much for giving him space, it looked like she already broke his heart. She needed to talk to him, to explain that she tried her best.
"You need to buy new sleepwear." Francine muttered and she felt John's body shake as he chuckled, not wanting to leave from the embrace.
"Yeah, will you be there to help me pick one?" he asked, rubbing his rough arms on her back. She closed her eyes wishing this moment would never end. Her hand shyly wrapped around his waist as she pulled him over, almost inviting him for a kiss.
There was still hesitation in her eyes as John looked down on her and their eyes met. His gaze set her mind at ease, and by ease she meant completely blank, her thoughts were hazy and all she could think about was to close her eyes and pucker her lips. And that was what she did.
This kiss was far too different from the one they shared back in the Gulag. Back there she felt relieved, happy and excited. In this one, she felt desire, longing and excitement. The initial impact was slow and intimate and she expected it to continue that way until they broke their kiss but as soon as she opened her mouth and let John's tongue in, the both of them tilted their heads as their hands roamed eagerly around each other, John wrapped his arms from below her waist up to her nape and pulled her close, never breaking the kiss while France also pulled him in as her hand slid from his back to his shoulders, gently trailing her soft touch through his biceps. They were so close to each other that they were swaying as their heads tilted attempting to try kissing on every angle possible. Maxine moaned in between the sounds of their lips clashing and she could already feel the excitement forming on John's body causing her to slowly end the kiss.
As soon as he felt that she was trying to break the kiss, John rested his forehead against hers as they stared longingly on each other, their hands slowly drifted apart as their bodies slowly stepped back from each other.
"Good Night, John." She said nervously, worried about what he might feel toward her actions.
"Good Night, Francine." He replied there was a question on the tone of his voice but France was glad that he was not pushy this time.
She stepped back, and turned to the direction of her room smiling awkwardly as his stare was locked on hers.
"I'll be patient for you… because I know you're worth the wait." he said, a blush forming on her cheek as soon as she realized he really did hear her whisper the last night they slept beside each other.
Without looking back, she walked faster than ever and closed the door, jumping to her pillow and fighting the extreme feeling of embarrassment.
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France barely slept. It was like one Scottish man kept her up all night as he continued to stay on her thoughts. She was going crazy over him and she can only think of one way to cure her. Distraction.
She got up around five in the morning, her eyes were sore from the lack of sleep, but she washed it off with an early morning hot shower. If only she knew each room had bathrooms. If only she listened to Roach.
She distracted herself by going to the pantry and started sorting out things for their list, it was a lengthy one and they needed to clear out room for more. Her plan went well until thirty minutes later, a very sweaty John MacTavish, entered the kitchen door.
She immediately turned back to the pantry as soon as the view of him dripping in sweat, wearing a perfectly fit black tank top and sweatpants appeared from the corner of her eye. There he was again, innocently looking insanely attractive. And there she was again, falling for it.
"Looks like you're up too early." His voice was loud enough she couldn't ignore it. She took a deep breath and turned to him. It was the bluetooth earphones.
"Yeah. Figured an early head start would help." She replied. What kind of sentence was that? She didn't know, but she was grateful enough that he was only invested for small talk as he grinned and made his way to his room making France sigh in relief.
Later that morning while they were arranging the supplies, they stumbled upon Alex and Samantha, making out like teenagers by the gazebo. It was supposed to distract her from the Scotsman who was talking to someone over the phone but she couldn't help but remember the kiss they shared last night, making her secretly glance toward John, and then back to the two. Her heart raced as she felt nervous toward herself. She was supposed to be extra careful investing feelings towards someone else in the middle of the fight, but now that she knew John was willing to be patient for her, she was now the one eager for him.
In the afternoon, France wanted to talk to Ghost personally. She wanted to clear out things about what he saw and what occurred in Brazil. Back then, she was confused about what she felt, but now it was clear as day. Roach told her that he never left his room all day and it made her feel guilty. But then again, he never made a move toward her so, technically she didn't have to feel that way. But the idea of clearing things off with him as he began to fall for John was what's best.
She stood by the door, bracing herself before attempting to knock, but as soon as her knuckles were about to touch the wooden door, he heard John's loud announcement from the living room.
Ghost already left. It looked like he didn't need any more explanation from her.
I tried my bestest to describe that part but there's a video to slightly enlighten y'all with what's going on. It's way off than what I wanted it to be when I put it in writing.
Next Chapter : Staying in Shape
Notification Squad my Beloved
@enderio @beemybee @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog @samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee
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