#had the above train of thought while waiting

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

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[bookshelf-in-progress]

I've had an odd nostalgia for the Once Upon a Time series of mediocre short-novel-length fairy tale retellings. I've been wanting to read the retelling of "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" from that line.

The trouble is that there is no such book.

Which makes me want to write it.

Unfortunately, the only straightforward traditional retelling of that fairy tale I want to write doesn't fit with that style.

But thinking about it got me excited about that old idea all over again.

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

series masterlist

emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

previous chapter | next chapter [coming soon!]

[papayapiastri]

toying with you.

warnings: smut, thigh-riding. sprinkle of angst.

pairing: LN x Reader

———

it wasn’t often that you watched him train. but today was different. today; he asked you to watch.

No. He instructed you to watch.

Lando could tell something was off with you this morning. When he asked what was wrong you simply said ‘I’m fine’ or ‘don’t worry about it’.

He always knew when you were lying, even by the slightest of ways. Whether it was the way you made your breakfast; swift and without care, or the way you spoke with haste instead of your usual attentiveness.

He always noticed.

But it was just one of those days. no rhyme or reason why you were agitated.

You just were.

Unfortunately, Lando was stubborn and unrelenting. He wasn’t going to stop hounding you until you told him what was wrong. Even going as far as to wrapping his arms around your waist; pulling your frame into his own knowing how addicted you are to the comfort of his hold.

But instead of crawling into his embrace, you pulled back, resting your arms back at your sides with a grumbled sigh.

seriously lan, Im fine, just leave me alone.

As soon as the harsh words flew from your lips, a pang of guilt rang deep within your chest. Lando’s eyes flickered with a mixture of hurt and confusion, you could tell that he was contemplated whether it was something he did; whether it was somehow his fault, however, you didn’t have the energy to deal with it at the moment. Instead, you just walked away before things got worse.

It wasn’t until hours later that you started to feel like yourself again; building up the courage to go seek him out. When you found him, an unsure smile reached your lips as he sat comfortably in the living room, watching a show you couldn’t place. You tried making small talk, asking what he wanted for dinner, asking what he was watching…

…and you were met with nothing.

So many questions, yet after your little outburst this morning, it seemed Lando gave you the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him when you were met with the silence, or the slight shrug of his shoulders.

Childish. yet, you knew you deserved it.

So, you were definitely surprised when you received his text later that evening.

I’ll be in the gym at 7. join me

You stared at the screen. Puzzled. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard; wanting to send a plethora of questions. Never had Lando asked you to join him for his gym sessions. He flippantly claimed you were too much of a distraction.

But before you could respond, a tiny speech bubble bounced across the screen.

wasn’t a question y/n. be there at 7.

Your eyebrows furrowed. no emojis, no x’s or o’s that would be littered through his usual texts.

Just a direct instruction that you felt obligated to follow.

So here you were, attempting to silence your racing thoughts around why Lando asked you to be here. He hadn’t said a word to you since you entered the room. Your skirt delicately brushed against your skin as you watched him; your legs bouncing anxiously as you sat there. waiting. patiently.

You tried distracting yourself with the way the warm sun sizzled against your skin, painting the room with a golden hue. Or the way the heat caused droplets of sweat to hypnotically fall from Lando’s messy curls. Or the way your eyes naturally gazed down to his arms; veins tensed as his hands strained against the grip of the weight above him.

it worked for a moment. that simple distraction.

but now, you found your thoughts consumed by something else…

your thoughtful gaze found itself trailing down, noticing how lando’s shirt rode up ever so slightly; exposing his v-line.

While on a usual day you would be salivating at the outline of his boxers, today, all you could focus on were his thighs as they flexed with even the slightest of movements.

You couldn’t help as your stomach fluttered with butterflies at the sight.

stop it. You mentally chastised yourself for objectifying something that was so inherently innocent, but you couldn’t help yourself. there was something so lewd, about the picture in front of you.

The sudden sound of Lando’s trainer snapped you out of your trance. Heat rushed to your cheeks, painting ur skin in a rosy pink hue as you forced yourself to look away. You weren’t about to get caught staring; especially by Lando’s trainer.

A moment passed as they exchange pleasantries, a day well done apparently. You were too distracted to notice, but at least Lando’s tone seemed light as he sent his trainer off with a curt grin.

It wasn’t long before you felt a curious set of eyes fall on you. Analysing. Reading you like you were an open page of his favourite book. “Seems I’m more of a distraction than you are.” He murmured bemusingly “Something on your mind?”

Your eyes snapped back to his, surprise painting your features at Lando’s unexpected blasé nature despite of everything that happened this morning. You shook your head; lazily leaning back onto your seat and crossing your arms in annoyance. “Care to explain why you’ve been ignoring me all day?”

With a click of his tongue, Lando shook his head “Your words y/n, you wanted to be left alone so—" his voice trailed off for a small moment.

“I left you alone.” He shrugged.

You hummed in response. You should have felt content with his response. It made sense. Yet, a part of you still felt jaded and hurt by his cold demeanour towards you.

As if immediately recognising your hesitancy, a tired sigh fell from Lando’s lips. “Come here.” He murmured, extending his hand towards you. Curiously, you pushed yourself off of the couch with a huff, taking small, uncertain strides towards Lando as he eyed you with sincerity.

Before you could react, Lando roughly grabbed your wrist, forcefully tugging your body down to his own as he placed you on his thigh. You squealed at the sudden gesture.

“Lando!” you scolded as strong arms snaked its way around your waist in an attempt to steady you and ur pulsing heart. With a hand to your chest, you attempted to calm your uneven breaths.

Lando couldn’t help the hearty chuckle that bellowed from his chest, not even bothering to hide the smirk that was plastered across his face. He loved seeing you flustered in every way imaginable.

“Sorry.” He muttered nonchalantly. Clearly unapologetic as he brought his hand to your face; his fingers brushing away the stray hairs that found themselves out of place, instead, placing them neatly behind your ear. “Now—” He began, his tone shifting slightly more serious, “Want to tell me what’s been happening in that pretty little head of yours?”

You could barely register the words that were said. Instead, all you could focus on was the friction that bound tight at your core, the thin lace of your panties that suddenly strained against Lando’s skin.

He seemed unaware, still distracted by your hair. the very hair you wish he’d bury his hands in and tug on the strands; maybe he’d call you a little brat for your behaviour this morning—

You silently wondered if he could see right through you. What you were thinking. The fact that even the smallest of movements could crumble your resolve.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes widened as they snapped to his. His smirk had fallen to a boyish grin as his gaze swirled with newfound amusement. He tilted his head, trailing his fingers from your hair to your jawline. With a hum, he spoke lowly, “If you’re not interested in talking about this morning, why don’t you tell me what’s got you so flustered?”

Lando’s jaw clenched as he assessed you. every movement, every flinch. Anything that could give away the clear desire that you felt building at your core.

You sighed heavier than expected. “I’m not flustered. I’m annoyed.”

“With me?” He tilted his head curiously whilst his fingers continued their exploration down the side of your throat, crossing over every divet before letting his hand rest behind your neck. His grip was light, but noticeable. Your skin exploded in goosebumps at the anticipation of something more. You wanted, needed, something more.

“Especially with you.”

“Mm…” he hummed approvingly, wetting his lips as his other hand began its teasing assault on your hips, drawing up your skirt ever so slightly as he tightened his grip. “Anything I can do to fix that?”

You shook your head. attempting to use one of your hands to push yourself off of him. This time, you weren’t surprised at the sudden clutch of your wrist. However, you were surprised by how easy it was for Lando to pull you further into him. The harsh movement causing his muscles to flex, sending pulsating waves to your core. You bite the inside of cheek, attempting to hold in the whimpers that threatened to escape, but nothing could hide the rosiness that burned across your skin. A constant reminder of Lando’s effect over your body.

“Are you sure y/n?” he teased, softly grabbing the side of your cheeks with his index finger and thumb before bringing his face close to your ear.

“you must be so...” you could barely hear his voice as he murmured sweetly against your skin, trailing soft fleeting kisses trailing down your neck. “frustrated.”

Your hands curl around his shirt, gripping the cotton as you attempted to ignore the delicious assault. “You’re toying with me?” you mutter, taking in shallow breaths as your eyes flutter closed; your senses consumed by Lando’s every movement.

You feel him smile against your skin “only because you’re letting me.”

“Admit it.” he whispered, leaving lingering kisses across your collarbone. The feeling of his lips hovering against your sensitive skin sent electric shocks down your spine. So much so, you didn’t even notice how your back arched; your head tipping ever so slightly to give lando access to even more of you.

He sighed longingly against you “Spending the whole day without me to get you off. You were practically drooling the minute you saw me.”

Embarrassed couldn’t begin to describe how you were feeling, but it was especially made worse by the amused laugh that reverberated from the man in front of you. “Talk to me baby— ‘miss your sweet voice.”

“What’s got you so needy for me?”

There was no hiding from Lando. You could either tell the truth and face the potential lifetime of embarrassment that would soon follow, or, lie, and not get what you wanted.

What you really needed.

Let’s face it. you weren’t in the mood to be denied.

not tonight, atleast.

“Your thighs.” You murmured. Barely a whisper, barely a breath. You wondered if he even heard you. especially since he didn’t seem to react to your words. Instead, his chaste kisses travelled up your neck; one planted softly on your cheek before reaching messily to the side of your lips.

Lando pulled back for a moment, shamelessly admiring you. While you averted his gaze, you took a peek at him through your eyelashes; attempting to fight the thrashing heat against your skin. “There we go.” He hummed approvingly. “Was that so hard?” He tilted his head, a familiar sense of mischief dancing on his features.

But a moment of silence followed. Any sense of urgency that Lando had seemingly dissipated as he lazily leaned back, continuing to assess your features. His hands clutched around your wrists; taking away any possible chance of escape.

“Well?” You snapped. all this work to get you to admit something so humiliating and depraved and now… nothing?

“Well what?” he questioned with a scoff. “You think I’m going to help you?” You could tell he was still toying with you. Clearly, he was still mad about this morning.

“I’m just respecting your wishes baby.”

What a childish little prick— Heat returned to your cheeks, as you realised what he was doing. you tried averting his gaze, pulling your hands back so you could leave, but you couldn’t, he was too strong. Any tug at your wrists would be met with him pulling you back tenfold.

With a click of his jaw and a boyish grin he cut the tension with his teasing voice, “Come on baby; you don’t need to ask, just take what you need from me. Anything to make you feel better.” His tone dripped with mockery, there was something about it that felt so degrading, almost as if he enjoyed seeing you clearly suffer; clearly needing more than what he was willing to give.

You shook your head: your lips in an ‘o’ shape as you sat there in disbelief. a small moment passed, one that felt like a lifetime.

Fuck it. If he’s so adamant on playing this game with you, then you might as well win it.

“You’re fucking insufferable.” you murmur, forcing yourself out his grip to plant your hands into his curly strands; leaning your body further into him and positioning yourself perfectly against his thigh.

Pulling at the strands, a low groan rumbled from Lando’s chest. The sound sending waves of pure euphoria through your body as you repeated the same assault he practiced on you; nipping and pulling at his skin with each intense kiss.

You whined lowly as you felt Lando’s hand begin to travel under your shirt, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to reappear on your skin as he slowly traced across your stomach; your chest; before roughly gripping your breast. it didn’t take long for your body to respond to his, melding into one another.

You needed him. His fingers, his tongue. his cock. anything that could help release the tension that pooled at your core. Hiding your face into the nape of his neck, you planted small kisses against his skin; revelling in the faint oud smell of his cologne; continuing to roll your hips against him to aid the lingering ache between your legs.

“Has my baby become a slut for me just from my thighs?” You hear Lando tease yet his voice sounded far as you remained trapped in the sensations of his hands. His fingers drew hypnotic circles around your nipple as his other hand harshly tugged at your hips, rhythmically following your own movements. For a small moment. You wondered whether Lando knew how strong he actually was, whether was aware that the tight grip he had on you were would leave haunting bruises on your skin the next day. marking you as his, and only his.

You pulled away from him, causing his fingers to fall from your delicate skin. You look down, frustration clearly plastered across your features. “please lan.” you whimper softly. You felt your pleasure building ever-so-slightly; waves of heat radiating across your whole body yet—

it wasnt enough, it would never be enough. You knew that. He knew that.

“Please what?” his mocking tone sent a shiver coursing through your spine as he tilted his head. - slight curve teased his lips. “You had so much to say this morning, but now, it seems you can barely find your words.”

“Stop punishing me.” You grumbled.

“Punishing you?”

“I’m not punishing you y/n. you’re the one who told me you wanted to be left alone.” He said matter-of-factly. Even so, his eyes lingered downwards, watching as his fingers trailed over your exposed thighs, across the soft skin before planting himself right between your legs, tracing over the delicate fabric; hovering over the sensitive nerves that ached to be touched.

“Look at you. you’ve made such a mess for me already and I’ve barely even touched you baby.” His other hand rested around the nape of your neck; his thumb gently tapping the side of your throat, as if he was teasing the thought of tightening his grip.

You hated it. You hated how humiliated you felt. Lando had you melting on top of him, writhing in the most degrading way imaginable without so much as a thought of release for you.

You turned your head slightly, a breathy sigh leaving your lips at the realisation.

“Y/n.” Lando called knowingly; pulling your focus back to him before your thoughts could sabotage you further.

Your attention snapped back to his as his eyes trailed longingly over your features. “if you need me, you better start using your words. no more hiding in that pretty little head of yours.”

it was funny that even in such a intimate moment Lando tried to counsel you, make you feel better; safe, supported. He’d been that way your whole relationship; which only made you feel even more guilty for snapping at him this morning.

fine. he wants me to use my words. so be it.

You pondered his words with a small smile before leaning in, wrapping your arms around his tense shoulders. Your lips brushed against his in the slightest of touches. “Lan, I need you. ‘need you so fucking bad.” You weren’t afraid of a little begging, you knew how much he loved it.

Your fingers trailed the back of his neck before delving back into his hair. “Need your fingers to help get me off, d‘you think you can do that for me baby?” You whispered.

His eyes widened at your sudden directness. “Fuck…” he hissed as you tugged on his curls. you could tell he was caught off guard, but that quickly washed away as you felt his grip tighten around your waist; guiding your hips as they rolled against him. “There’s my sweet girl.” he muttered. Fingers that were previously wrapped around your neck disappeared into your panties; the large digits not even hesitating to roughly push against your aching clit.

You felt that familiar pressure build and build as his fingers circled your core. Controlled and rough.

It didn’t take long for the melding of pleading whines and pleasured moans to fill the room, you begged for more, and more, and more; pushing your hips further into him as Lando praised, worshipped and fulfilled you completely. “So beautiful— so fucking wet for me.” he muttered harshly; possessively.

It only took his sinful tone to send you to the point of no return; pulsing waves flooding your body leaving you a whimpering mess in Lando’s hold to keep you steady as he continued to shower you with affirmations “that’s it baby, cum all over my thigh; show me desperate you are for me.”

You felt his movements slow, giving you a chance to breathe while sending aftershocks up and down your spine. You hid yourself in his neck, exhaustion hitting you out of no where. You left a small kiss at the base of his neck as your heart rate attempted to lower itself.

Lando comfortingly trailed his other hand down your back. “See baby, a lot of good can come from using your words.” He quipped lowly.

“Should try it again next time.”

[drunk-person]

Training Yard

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: One of Y/n's most common habits is admiring her husband's training every day. On a particularly hot day, the jealousy of the other ladies makes her achieve everything she has been dreaming of for a long time..

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, swords being used inappropriately, jealousy sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, no description for reader.

Word cont: 2.800 k

Author's note: Okay, I think those gifs and images with a special focus on Aemond's sword changed the chemistry of my brain, and from that change this one short was born. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

When Y/n was promised to Aemond and traveled with her family to Kings landing to meet him the first time she saw him was at the training camp. He was brandishing a sword and fighting like a demon. The look of concentration on his face, the way he moved fluidly, the sweat that dripped down his forehead, all of it caught Y/n's attention and made her thighs press together in a way she hadn't understood at the time.

Even in her homeland when the marriage was announced, everyone told her that Prince Aemond was a great warrior, but nothing had prepared her for that. It didn't take long for both of them to get married and gradually build their own daily routine. Y/n, just as her husband woke up very early, and they both had breakfast together, soon after Aemond left for the training yard. And Y/n couldn't even say when it became such a recurring habit to watch her husband training every morning. But she could definitely say that it was one of her favorite parts of the day.

Y/n now knew what that pressure between her thighs meant when she saw her husband in the training yard. She knew even better. And even after almost twelve moons of marriage, she still felt the same feeling whenever she saw him. Today in particular the day was particularly hot, as it was the middle of summer, and even though she was wearing a lighter dress Y/n could still feel the sweat running down between her breasts and down her back as she fanned herself with a fan.

She admired her husband's every move downstairs as he fought with Sir Criston, and she couldn't help but bite her lip gently as she watched him grip the hilt of his sword tightly. Y/n could see that Aemond was sweating wearing all those layers of clothes, his silver hair was damp with sweat, and it was to her great surprise that he had an attitude that she would never have expected. He took off his doublet and opened the thin shirt he was wearing underneath, she sighed when he saw the scene, but the contentment soon passed when she noticed that the other ladies of the court were looking at her husband like hungry dogs would look at a piece of meat.

Y/n gritted her teeth angrily as she held tightly to the wooden support of the balcony, as she thought about how lovely it would be to be able to throw one of them from above. And with her eyes sparkling, she barely waited for the fight to end before going down to the courtyard and approaching where Aemond was.

As soon as Aemond disarmed Sir Cole, causing his sword to be thrown a long distance, and placed his own sword against the older man's throat, the audience applauded happily. But no Y/n, she was smarter than doing something so trivial. And with that in mind she pretended to drop the green fan with gold embroidery that she used to fan herself and relieve the heat.

Aemond immediately bent down, picking up the fan from the floor and handing it into her hands, touching her skin in public even if quickly as he placed the fan back between Y/n's hands.

— Thank you very much husband. — She spoke softly, looking at him from beneath her long eyelashes, already opening the fan again, while she gently bit her lip.

—You're welcome wife. — He replied, looking lightly at the drops of sweat that fell down his wife's neckline, when she intelligently guided his gaze there using the fan. —I see that you are also feeling very hot.

—Well, I told you not to go out in such heavy clothes today, if you had listened to me maybe you wouldn't be walking around practically naked in public. — She spoke only for Aemond to hear, curving his eyebrows and wrinkling his nose, while he looked at her with that ironic smile that made her want to jump on him, to kill him or other things.

—I'm going to retire to our quarters, my prince, the weather is very hot. — And she turned around, closing the fan and walking away without even looking back, already knowing that it wouldn't be long before he would follow her to the bedroom. Aemond always got a little wild after training, with her teasing him he knew he would want her.

As she passed the court ladies, Y/n made a point of smiling arrogantly before heading inside the fortress. Aemond was her husband, only hers and no one else's. And still with her body tense with jealousy and desire, she entered the dark corridor to get to her own rooms faster. But before she could walk two meters she felt someone covering her mouth with their hand while pulling her firmly around the waist. Y/n screamed muffledly as she struggled, until the soft voice came in her ear.

—Easy, my princess.

Hearing Aemond's voice her whole body instantly relaxed, even as he dragged her into an even darker corner and pinned her firmly against the wall of a cramped alcove.

—What did you think you were doing? — He spoke with an irritated voice against her hair while holding her. — Looking at me like that in public, practice begging me to fuck you.

—Well, maybe I wanted to show some unsuspecting people that Prince Aemond has already been married for almost a year before they jump on you! —Y/n practically growled the words in annoyance, and it became even worse when she felt Aemond laughing against her neck.

—So that's what this is about? —He asked in a mocking voice. — Jealousy.

—I'm not jealous. — She replied grumpily, still pressed against the wall.

—Oh no, you are burning with. — He smiled at the realization.

—You know that my only eye is only for you, wife. — He said kissing her neck from behind. — Just for you.

—You think I don't see the way you look every morning when you watch me train. — He whispered, nibbling on her neck. — That I don't watch the way you bite your lip every time I grip the sword hilt. — He bit her earlobe as he said that while pressing himself against her clothed ass, making her gasp.

And without warning he pulled the strings of her dress violently while Y/n's eyes widened in shock as they were almost in the middle of a hallway. The flowing dress fell at her feet and Y/n felt herself blushing for being practically naked in that place.

—Aemond, what if someone shows up? —She spoke fearfully.

—Should you have thought about that before. —He said, pulling her small clothes down and stripping her completely naked while he trailed wet kisses down her back. Suddenly she felt Aemond turn her around and push her in the other direction, lifting her off the floor and sitting her on a small sideboard, knocking over a vase that was previously on top.

—Aemond! —She reprimanded him, but was interrupted when he pressed his lips to hers while holding her thighs, caressing them and keeping them open. He trailed kisses from her lips to her neck, and from her neck to her soft breasts where he feasted on licking and sucking like he knew Y/n liked. And little by little, the caresses that were on her thighs moved up towards her throbbing core, which panted in anticipation every time Aemond's fingers got closer to where she needed him most.

—Husband… —She whimpered when he rubbed two fingers against her wetness.

—So wet for me. — He said, looking down at her, still paying attention to her breasts.

—I need you inside me. — She begged with a needy voice while Aemond slowly massaged her pearl, and she saw the gleam of malice in his eyes as he shook his head.

—No, you don't deserve to get what you want. —Aemond gently pinched her pearl, making her moan and lightly bite her own hand to muffle the noise. — You were such a negligent wife, leaving in the middle of my training, making me have to drop everything and come to you.

—No, you deserve something else. — He said, pulling her and making her almost scream in surprise as he turned her around and leaned over the small sideboard.

Y/n listened as Aemond unbuckled his belt and raised her eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what he would do. But the realization came soon after when she felt something cold against her hot and wet intimacy, panting immediately afterwards.

—I noticed some time ago the way you always look at my sword when you think I'm not looking. — Aemond said while lightly brushing the handle of the sheathed sword against Y/n's intimacy, who pressed her eyes firmly while biting her lips in disbelief that this was really happening.

And without warning he penetrated the first part of the handle into her wet pussy, making her squirm with pleasure and bite her own arm to keep from moaning when she felt the cold metal against her hot skin. Aemond watched ecstatically as the rounded part of the handle was swallowed whole while Y/n moaned and panted with pleasure, he waited a few moments before pushing the rest in and no longer moving it letting her adapt to the size, while he smiled at the sight of his wife squirm, leaking more and more against the handle of the sword.

—Husband… —She begged, looking back with her face wet with tears and her lips red from biting them so much. — Husband, please. —Aemond smiled maliciously, but did not move the sword even an inch. —Aemond, I'm begging you. — She cried rubbing herself against the hilt of the sword.

—Look at you, my dear wife. —He said caressing her moist lips with his finger. —Begging like a real whore.

Y/n immediately nodded, leaning towards him for a kiss, which Aemond didn't have the courage to refuse. And in the middle of the wet and breathless kiss he moved the handle of the sword, thrusting firmly against Y/n's pussy, making her almost scream against his lips while digging her nails into her husband's neck. Aemond smiled against her lips and little by little he picked up speed, in a constant back and forth that made Y/n shiver with pleasure and lose control about one's own body.

She felt like she was going to collapse at any moment, the feeling of the metal filling her making her feel things she had never imagined before. The wet, filthy sound filling the air and the idea of ​​anyone walking by and seeing Aemond doing this to her made her even wetter if that was possible. Heat flooded her entire body and the smell of sweat filled the small alcove at that moment. Y/n did her best to remain silent, but it was almost impossible not to moan her husband's name and beg him to give her more, feeling on the verge of climax.

—Maybe you want them all to listen. — Aemond spoke in a hoarse and low voice close to her ear while sucking her earlobe. —Let them all hear you moan like a little whore while I fuck you with the hilt of my sword.

Y/n couldn't take it anymore, it was like everything inside her broke at once and she came against the hilt of her husband's sword shaking and whimpering as she squirmed and tried to hold on to the small sideboard. Her legs were shaking like jelly and she could barely stand, the feeling of her husband pulling the sword hilt out of her almost made her scream from overstimulation.

Aemond smiled with satisfaction as he pulled the hilt of the sword from inside Y/n, seeing it covered in the white fluids and liquids that came from his wife's pleasure, he never failed to be impressed by the fact that she became even more beautiful destroyed with pleasure. And still smiling, admiring the mess between her legs, he untied the drawstrings of his pants and pulled his own dick out, stroking it a few times and then rubbing it against her moist folds.

Y/n thought she was going to faint from the feeling of being filled again, but now completely. She was so sensitive after her first orgasm that it was as if Aemond was everywhere, and she couldn't help but grind against him for more.

—Always so good and eager for me.— Aemond praised her as he fucked her harder and harder and caressed her hips and breasts. —Such a good and wet cunt.

—You don't need to be jealous, wife, the only one I live for is you, no one else. — He said, sucking her neck and leaving a kiss there while Y/n whimpered and agreed, looking for his lips anxiously.

The two kissed eagerly and Aemond gained even more strength in his thrusts, and when Y/n was on the verge of orgasm again, footsteps sounded in the hallway and Aemond stopped his movements while covering her mouth, signaling for his wife to stay quiet.

Aemond then took advantage of the pause by withdrawing from inside her and turning her to face him and when the steps were far enough away he kissed her again hungrily, and already penetrating her once again with force. Y/n in turn brought her hands to his face, pulling him more and more towards her, wanting to feel every little part of him against her, and she barely noticed when the eye patch fell to the floor, only noticing when they both separated from the kiss. and the shine of the sapphire was present in the dark alcove, making her sigh with contentment at the sight.

—Husband, I want you so much. — She sighed, pulling him into another kiss, feeling closer and closer to the edge with each thrust from Aemond, and feeling him accelerate, she came against his cock, crying and moaning while putting her head in the gap between his neck and shoulder.

—I love you husband, I love you so much. —She whimpered, leaving kisses on his neck, and hearing his wife say those words while feeling her pussy milking him, Aemond came deeply inside her, shuddering and calling his wife's name with his face contorted with pleasure.

Y/n made a point of lifting her head to see the scene before her, in her opinion there was nothing as beautiful in that world as Aemond's face, the only thing that could compare was Aemond's face after the climax.

She caressed his face gently while she felt him massaging her waist with his fingertips still inside her, both still panting, a few moments later Aemond came out of her and lovingly helped her get dressed.

—I'm going to retire to our quarters, husband. —Y/n said visibly tired, and at the same moment Aemond's look changed and he shook his head.

—Oh no you won't.—He said holding her face between his hands firmly looking her in the eyes while speaking in a slightly hoarse voice. — Now you're going to go back there, sit like the obedient and devoted wife you are with my seed running down your legs and watch the rest of the training, knowing that my sword is full of your cunt juice.

—But husband... — She said with wide eyes.

—As I've told you a few times, wife, we must think about the consequences before acting. —He said, replacing his eye patch and fixing his own clothes with a smile.

—If you're lucky, there will only be you up there at that time.

He then fastened the belt with the sword back around his waist and Y/n could see the hilt still glistening with her fluids, and felt her face burn with embarrassment.

—I will never need a tournament favor again as long as I carry this sword. —Aemond said mockingly, looking at her and Y/n rolled her eyes angrily, since her husband didn't even participate in tournaments.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Malleus, Vil, Floyd, Jamil and Rook, please! Are waiting outside the building for (their crush) MC so they can walk together. They hear a BOOM and "AHHHHHHHHH" and suddenly they catch MC, who was sent flying out the 2nd story window by a misdirected spell blast. In thanks for catching her, she gives them a sincere and sweet kiss on the cheek? Thank you!!!!!!

Floyd Leech: 

You are incredibly thankful you caught Floyd on a good day, as splatting on the ground would be preferable to landing on an already irritated eel. He tilted his head as he stared at the window you flew out of, asking with a pout why you were having fun without him. Once his questioning is over (he wanted to recreate the experiment gone wrong with his VERY lucky lab partner next period), he asked what his prize was for catching you. You ignore the devious pointed grin to give him a kiss on his cheek, a real mistake as he squeezed you extra tight until he felt he was properly compensated in kisses.

Jamil Viper: 

Jamil thinks, at first, that he should’ve let you fall on your ass but his ‘don’t let the rich idiot die’ training kicked in automatically. He stared at you with a raised eyebrow, his disappointed mother look getting you to confess immediately to what had gone wrong. When you thank him he’s suddenly flustered, telling you not to bring him into your shenanigans unnecessarily as a real ‘thanks’. When you offered up a kiss on the cheek Jamil found himself thrown off balance again, doing his best to glare and cursing himself for only ever finding trouble.

Malleus Draconia: 

Malleus caught you with total ease, looking at you in his arms with an amused smirk on his face. He asked if you were alright, giving you a once over before carefully setting you back on the ground (you don’t think you’ve ever been that high up). Before you’re down though you find yourself wrapped around his neck, your lips pressed hastily against his cheek. Your boldness had always amused him and this was no different, Malleus asking if he could get another if he continued to hold you.

Rook Hunt: 

Rook thought he might’ve smelled trouble in the air then, lo-and-behold — a beautiful specimen was offered from the heavens above, falling directly into his strong arms within the blink of an eye. He is painfully curious on how you managed to get in a situation like that, having to compliment your ability to stay stunning even while wildly flying through the air in a panic. He insisted you invite him next time, even the sweet kiss on the cheek you give not enough as he refused to put you down until you agreed to bring him on your next adventure.

Vil Schoenheit: 

You can’t help but note that, despite his slim, sleek physique, Vil is actually quite strong. He doesn’t have any trouble holding you in his arms, sighing and asking what caused such a scene. He takes it in stride but you can see he wants to give a thorough lecture (and perhaps a much less elegant ass-kicking) to the person who almost caused you harm. Now, if you were the culprit behind your own almost demise you’d be on the receiving side of his withering glare, no kisses able to save you from the scolding he delivered.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Centimeters

Gavi x physiotherapist! Reader

A/N: no one asked for this but lord have mercy the photos from today had me heavy breathing

“Gavi, remember to behave yourself.”

“But I haven’t even-“

Ansu put a finger to his lips, eradicating whatever the end of that sentence was going to be.

“We’re about to go in for medical exams and the doctor is your girlfriend. Now I know you’re still pumped full of all your raging teenage hormones-“

“Ansu!”

“-but please, hermano. There cameras literally everywhere. So I’m begging you: behave.”

Gavi crossed his arms over his bare chest, pouting slightly at being scolded in front of the other boys. It was no secret that he was madly in love with his physiotherapist/girlfriend, but it never deterred the boys from teasing him incessantly. His injury over the last year had made things tough. She was at training more than he was, coming home with stories about practice drills and player banter that made his chest pang. He shook the thoughts from his head as he was called in to have his measurements taken.

Gavi shuffled into the room, white socks gliding against the floor. He fiddled with the bandage on his arm from the blood draw. He wished for a second that he could be childish, pull he is girl away from all her responsibilities and have a hand to hold while someone stabbed him with a needle. But he knew that now, close to graduating from her program and becoming lead physio, his girl was running the entire operation. So he was happy to just stand there, wide eyed and slack jawed watching his perfect girlfriend concentrate on something flashed across a computer screen.

Eventually, she felt a searing gaze burn holes into the dip of her back, and turned around to see her shirtless boyfriend biting his lip and smiling like an idiot. She suppressed her own grin, grabbing his file and her clipboard.

“Mr. Gavira - ready to be examined?”

There was a playfulness in her voice that, when mixed with her raised eyebrow and overwhelming stare, made Pablo blush.

“Of course, doctora. And please, take your time. Absolutely no need to rush.”

There was a light giggle bouncing around the room before she sat Pablo down, blood pressure cuff tight on his arm. Her fingers grazed his bicep, lingering longer than would be appropriate for any other player.

“Those scrubs look great on you, doctora.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t pick them out for me this morning, Pablo. Uncross your feet so that I can get a proper reading of your blood pressure.”

He spread his legs in the chair, shorts riding up his muscular thighs. He sat back in the chair, getting lost in watching his favorite person in the world fiddle with a blood pressure cuff.

“Any other players give you complements on the scrubs?”

“No Pablo - there is no one on this team suicidal enough to flirt with me or pay me a compliment while you’re here. Poor Lamine was scared to take off his shirt. He kept looking around expecting you to walk in.”

You tapped him on the arm, instructing him to stand for his height and weight measurement. He stood on the mark, and as she adjusted the piece above his head, he couldn’t help himself from wrapping an arm around her waist. He pulled her into himself, planting a quick kiss to her temple before she should pull away.

“Gavi!”

“What?”

“We’re at work!”

“Come on - no one is going to scold me. I’m poor Gavi with the bad knee.” He finished his sentence with a pout, big puppy dog eyes making him look younger than his already mere 19 years.

“Yes yes, poor little Gavi and his busted knee. I, however, am not an asset to club or country. Hansi will scold me in three languages if we get caught making out in here.

“Wait,” he turned his head swiftly, arms back around her waist. “Making out is an option?? Why didn’t you tell me.” His laughter disguised the sound of her lightly smacking his chest. She grabbed her clipboard again, and placed the metal piece gently on his head.

“173 cm. Tsk tsk Pablo - still as small as last year.”

He smiled at his girl, amusement painting his every feature.

“I don’t remember size ever being an issue for you, doctora. I’m still taller than you.”

“By like 10 cm. That’s not a lot.”

She took down his weight, and then grabbed the tape measure to start assessing specific areas of his body.

“Of course you would say 10 cm is not a lot. Since you’re used to 15 cm daily.” He earned another smack to the chest.

“Pablo!”

“Or maybe it’s 20? Maybe we should find out since you already have the measuring tape ready.” He suggested while his fingers played with the waistband of his shorts. She grabbed his wrist in fear, terrified of what Gavi was willing to do in a close room.

He laughed loudly, bringing both hands to cup his girl’s face. He felt the warmth of her cheeks on his palms, and her flustered state gave him a squeezing feeling in his chest. He brought his forehead to hers, waiting until she met his eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to whip it out here in the medical room. No matter how much you may want it.”

She laughed gladly, fears subsiding and chest feeling lighter after Gavi’s light touch. She grabbed the measuring tape and began. She started with his neck, saying her measurements out loud before jotting them down on the form.

“Chest is 94 cm. Bigger than last year.”

Her fingers traced downwards, leaving heat on Gavi’s skin as they got to his hips.

“Hips are 81.5. Same as last year.”

Next, she traced across his collar bone and down his arm, tapping to silently tell him to flex his bicep.

“Biceps are- holy.”

“That’s not a number, preciosa.”

“Biceps are 43 cm. Ehem, bigger than last year. By a lot.”

The doctor tried to stabilize her slight tremble as she wrote down the measurements. She tried to calm herself, but something about Gavi’s new, fuller physique was making professionalism almost impossible. Gavi, the little shit, flexed his biceps again, pleased with the reaction he could evoke.

“Lift up your shorts, Gavi.”

“Don’t you mean pull down?”

“Are you okay, Pablo? You’re hornier than usual today. Do I need to get a spray bottle?”

“Surgeon called me today and cleared me for more vigorous activities. Want to help me follow the doctor’s orders?”

She got on her knees, wrapping the tape measure around his thigh.

“Thighs are 61 cm. Smaller than last year. You’ll need to work on that.”

“I had my ACL repaired.”

“Pshh excuses excuses.”

She finished her measurements, taking other important vitals and making sure to ask him all the medical clearance questions.

“What time are you finished today, Pablo?”

“2 pm. They don’t want us out for too long in the heat. How many guys are left?”

“About 6. I’ll probably be done before you, so I can go home and make lunch.”

He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into him.

“No no, wait for me. We’ll leave together and go get food. You’ve had a hard day, let me treat you.”

“Every day is a hard day at work.”

He kept one arm around your shoulders as you walked him to the door.

“Then I’ll treat you every day. See you later, princesa.”

He hugged you into his side, and scampered off to the practice field. Neither Gavi nor his lady noticed the social media intern in the hall, who was quick to snap a picture of your embrace. The image of Gavi hugging his physiotherapist into his side and smiling from ear to ear set the internet into a flurry of comments.

New post from fcbarcelona: strong bonds between our players and medical staff 🫶

~~~

Hey do you think this is a cute dynamic? Wish you could read more about gavi x physiotherapist? Well you’re in luck! I have a ten part series of their love story in my master list!

Guys I love him so much. Anyways, like, comment, reblog, and check out the fundraiser in my pinned!! Love yall <3

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Missing My Werewolf Husband

A/N: David Thewlis has taken over my mind lol. Enjoy - L

Summary: After two weeks of Remus leaving to teach Hogwarts. He finally comes back.

WARNING: Being married, smut, breeding, NSFW, SFW, angst

Word Count: 2.7K

═ ≪ ❈ ≫ ═

Remus was happy when he got an offer to teach in Hogwarts. The money would help a lot, that’s what he told you as you helped him pack. He notices your quiet demeanor as you fold his dress robes neatly to avoid any wrinkles. You had even patch a few holes on them in the morning.

He calls out your name as he sits on the edge of bed. His heart breaks into two when he notices how red your eyes are. You were trying your hardest not to cry. You were happy for him, yes. The money would be nice, yes but you didn’t care about that. As long as you had him with you everything worked out.

Both of you had settled in his little cottage after graduating Hogwarts and after the war. The cottage was small but it was everything to both of you, making it into your home and using magic for a few repairs. It was paradise and it was a place where Remus could transform every full moon.

“I’m sorry.” You cried softly and he goes close to you in the middle of the bed wrapping an arm around you so you can lean against him.

“Don’t cry, love.” He tells you as he kisses your forehead and hugs you. You hug him back, laying your head on his chest.

“We can send letters. I’ll see you every two weeks when I'm settled down in school and you can use the floo too. Dumbledore was kind enough to add it to my chambers, he said he will connect it with the one in the living room.”

Remus cups your face with his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. You look up at your husband, his blue eyes are filled with his own tears. You pushed his sandy brown hair away from his face so you could kiss him.

Remus was the first to pull away and leans his forehead against yours, his hands going down to touch your arms. “You’re scaring me. You’re not going to leave me if I go, right?” He asks. You shake your head before answering him.

“No, I’m not. I'm not going to leave you not after all the work and time I spent trying to convince you that I love you.”

Remus lets out a chuckle as he kisses you again. You were right, you were in love with him since you were children in school. He knew he was in love with you the moment he saw you on the train to Hogwarts. As he grew he believed that he didn’t deserve to be loved. He didn’t deserve to have friends because of what he is. He didn’t deserve to have someone so beautiful and kind hearted like you but you managed to change his stubborn mind.

“Sometimes I think it’s a dream being married to you. I'm scared of waking up one day and finding out you're not mine. I don't deserve someone like you.” He confesses as he thinks about how you manage his moods when a full moon is near. Helping him clean and dressing his wounds for him after a full moon.

He thinks about the late night you wait outside for him. His chest fills with warmth as he remembers how you learned to make homemade chocolate for him.

When the day comes for him to go to Hogwarts, both of you couldn’t stop from crying. Remus didn’t sleep the night before. He watched as you slept after an eventful night. He traces the love bites marked on your skin, your eyes are shut but your lips are a bit open. He uses his thumb to pull your bottom lip before touching your face again.

Giving you a last kiss before boarding the train he looks out the window to wave at you. He finds an empty cart and places his luggage and suitcase above the seat. He watches out the window as he sits down, with his head against the window. He sniffs before wiping his tears with the back of his hand. There were so many memories about this train, his friends, his life in Hogwarts when he was younger. He can hear Lily and you talking about Charms while Sirius and James planned their next prank. He smiles at the thought of you cuddling with him on the train after graduating from Hogwarts. He feels his eyes grow heavy and he enters into a dreamless sleep.

It was two weeks later and Remus was filled with anxiety. He had sent you a letter on his first day of Hogwarts, telling you all about his position and about the students he is teaching. He wrote to you the next day that he couldn’t sleep the first day there because you weren’t there next to him. You weren’t there to cuddle him and scratch his back. You weren't there to run your fingers through his hair to help him fall asleep.

He found himself daydreaming about you during his breaks and meal times. To make matters worse, Moony missed you too. He can feel it, the wolf needed to be with his mate. Two weeks felt so long, he hasn’t touched you, he hasn’t smelled you. He hasn’t tasted you.

He graciously thanked Dumbledore and the elves for properly connecting the fireplace in his chambers to the fireplace to his little cottage. He quickly used it when they left.

Remus calls your name when he walks into the living room of the cottage. It’s quiet and he calls your name again. Looking in the kitchen and finding nothing he decided to go check the bedroom. The door is open and he can hear you humming. Calling your name again, he looks inside to see you on the bed.

He smiles wide when he notices you. You’re wearing one of his dark gray cardigans. It’s big on you, all of his cardigans are oversized. He saw your bare legs and saw the cardigan was half zip up, showing your cleavage.

You’re holding a book in your lap and he notices the Walkman near you. You’re wearing headphones and now he knows why you couldn’t hear him. He’s surprised you still haven’t seen him, especially when he walks into the room. He slowly starts to make his way up the bed and crawl to you. Feeling the bed dip, you looked ahead and you let out a yelp. Ripping the headphones off your head and pushing the book to the other side of the bed, you throw yourself onto Remus making him laugh as he lays flat on his back on the bed. You had crawled on him, sitting on his lap and kissing him.

Remus moans as he opens his mouth to deepen the kisses. He cups your face, tugging you closer to him as he turns his head to the side to slip his tongue in your mouth.

He looks up at you when you pull away. “Hi.” He says making you smile.

“Hello, Professor Lupin.” You said in a teasing tone as you looked down at him. He smiles at you before puckering his lips at you so you can give him another kiss. His hands find their way onto your legs and rub them up to your hips. He hears you squeal when he pulls the thong before releasing it, making it snap back against your skin. He grows hard at the thought of you home wearing only his cardigans and a thong on.

“Remus.” You whisper to him as you grind yourself against his crotch.

His eyes harden when you sit up straight, staring intensely at him as you bring a hand to the zipper of the cardigan. Pulling it completely down, Remus helps you, pushing the cardigan off of your shoulders showing him your bare chest. You hear him whine before pulling you toward him. He latches on one of your nipples as he uses his hand to pull the other one.

You moaned as he licked and sucked your nipple. Your moans turns into a giggle when his mustache tickles your nipple as he makes out with your breasts.

You can hear Moony growl as he licks the valley between your breasts all the way up to your neck. Remus pulls away to kiss your mark. Nuzzling in your neck, he quickly turns around making you laid down on your back. He spreads your legs wide open for his frame.

Remus doesn’t wait, he’s always been impatient when it comes to touching you. He feels you pulling his tie as he kisses your neck, his eyes roll in the back of his head when he feels you cup him though his trousers.

“Take this off, baby.” You tell him and he obeys you in a hurry. Removing his tie, throwing it over his shoulders with his shirt and sweater. Your eyes watched the scars on his rib cage expand as he took a deep breath. Remus’ body was a work of art to you. His fair skin was a canvas, some of his scars were pink, some were red and others were darker color. You love all of it, you kissed every one of him, even the ones on his back and legs.

You have kissed the ones of his handsome face. You watched as Remus kicked his shoes off and took his trouser off. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes wander down to his light brown happy trail, it disappears under his pitch tent boxer.

Wanting to taste him so bad, you felt his hands grab a hold of your ankle tugging you to the edge of the bed. You call out his name, laughing as you see him with a grin. He knelt down between your legs, his nose bumps with your cunt. He kisses it over the small fabric of the thong.

“Remus!” You moan when you feel his tongue licking your slit, he nips the fabric and uses one of his hands to pull it to the side. He latches on to your clit as he slowly slid two fingers in you.

Throwing your head back when you felt Remus hitting that sweet spot in you. You can’t help yourself and grab a hold of his hair, pulling him closer to your cunt. He moans at your action and eats your cunt messy. You don’t say anything when Remus rips the thong off your body. Another pair down the drain, you joke to yourself but you should have known better. Remus doesn’t like it when your sweet pretty cunt is covered. You blush as you remember what he told you. “Prettiest fucking cunt. You smell so good. Don’t cover up.”

Remus watches you as he comes back up, leaning over you. He kissed you and you moaned at the taste of your cunt on his tongue. He pulls away and signals you to get in the middle of the bed with his head. You quickly do and whine when you feel him slap your ass. Remus is quick to remove his boxer and follows you into the bed. Your head hits the pillow as he gets on top of you. Remus tells you how much he missed you as he kisses your neck. His hands go under, behind your knee and push them up to your chest.

“Let me..” Remus knew what you were going to ask. He would have loved your mouth on him but not right now. Two weeks without you, he needed you now. He needed to be inside of you.

“I’m so hard for you, already.” He tells you and you follow his right hand. He's jerking himself off. His cock looks so pretty and pink, he’s uncut and you can see the precum dripping out of his slit.

“You haven't cum in these two weeks?” You ask him and Remus shakes his head, pouting at you as he continues to touch himself.

You reach out for his cock. Going under to cup his balls making him moan. “Balls are heavy with cum, baby.” You whispered.

“You're going to give it to me right? You're going to give me all that cum you store for two weeks?” You asked him and Remus’ face turns red from your words.

You had a habit of making him blush red from your dirty words. “Yes, please.” He whines as you gently give his sack a squeeze.

Removing your hand, Remus gets closer to you, your legs are draped over his thighs as his cock hovers over your wet cunt. You moan softly when you feel him playing your clit with the fat head of his cock. He gives it a few slaps against your clit and pussy lips.

“Remus.” You cry his name out feeling impatient. He gives you a smirk at your plea to hurry up.

He quickly leans down to capture your lips as he slides himself in until the hilt. You cry out in his mouth at sudden movement. Remus fucks you as he's on top of you. His arm is behind you, your head is laying on his forearm as he watches your pretty face. He holds the edge of the mattress with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he thrusts in and out of you.

“Baby.” Remus whines as he looks down to see his cock going in and out of your pussy. What a lovely sight, a sight he missed so much. Letting go of the mattress he goes to your left breast fondling it as he continues.

You can't help but cry as he fucks you. Remus looking at you, his pretty blue eyes staring down. You feel him so deep in you in this position, his heavy balls are slapping your behind while rutting into you wild. The growl he gives you doesn't scare you one bit, it makes you clench around. Remus pants your name, you feel him tremble as you grab a hold of his thighs to help you stay in place. Remus' harsh thrust makes the box spring of bed squeak loudly. Your toes curl up when you feel his thumb on your throbbing clit. Remus leans back to see you come undone on his cock as he keeps fucking you. His hand becomes drench when you cum.

“Oh fuck-fuck.” Remus whines as he releases your clit and quickly leans back over you, his arms go under you to hold you close to his chest. He hides his sweaty face in your neck. You hold on to him for dear life as he catches up to his own release. Remus shouts your name and he gives you one harsh thrust and holds himself deep inside of you.

Remus is breathing heavily, he whines to you when he feels you stroking his back with both hands. He can hear you calling his name out softly trying to catch his attention. He moans as he feels his legs start to ache from holding this position but he ignores it. He lifts his head up from your neck and looks down at you. Your cheeks are flushed and your hair is tousled. He hums when you bring your hand to brush his own hair out of his face not minding how damp it was from his sweat.

“I missed you.” Remus hears you whisper.

“Me too. Me too, Y/n.” He croaks out to you before giving you a kiss on the lips. After a few moments, he’s off of you. He keeps kissing you softly, enjoying your warmth and your presence. He wipes you clean, carefully to not hurt you. Remus tries to push back Moony but the wolf inside of him is satisfied with the sight of your wet puffy cunt, blobs of his cum dripping out and wetting the blanket under you. With a warm damp cloth he wipes you with it, he gives your mound a kiss when he finishes.

You listen as Remus tells you about being back to school as you lay with him on the bed. He has his right arm around you as you laid on his chest. You trace the scars on his chest as he spoke. You catch sight of his left hand when he touches his lower stomach. The golden wedding band shines in the light and it makes you smile, you were so happy he was back. Oh merlin, how you missed your werewolf husband.

[ellievickstar]

Lover’s Lullaby

A/N: Here’s part 3 of Bloodied Bonds, Part 2 is here, I hope you guys love this as much as I did, I put so much effort into this and I do genuinely apologise for the length of time it took for me to get this out. Thank you so much for waiting I love you all and I hope you guys enjoy!! <3

Summary: Decisions have been made, hearts have been shattered, but can Azriel finally save his beloved?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

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“You have considered what I said,” She smiled at Azriel, but what once looked sweet and soft now seemed calculated and manipulative.

Azriel went nauseous at the thought of what Elain may have done if the bond had not countered the more extreme effects of the aphrodisiac. Thanking the Mother that all he had done with Elain was hold her hand and even hen he wanted to burn his hands all over again at the very thought.

He really was a dirty low born Illyrian.

And he had not deserved you.

“What do you want from us Elain?” Rhysand snarled, violet eyes brimming with anger.

“Get your fangs away from me Rhysand, do not think for a second that you are in a position to demand for anything,” Elain grinned, “After all, I know how to counter your daemati powers, Azriel himself taught me the basics.”

Casting a glance at Azriel, Rhysand noticed how he had paled significantly, gawking at Elain to remember when he had taught her anything of the sort. Cassian looked all but ready to leap at Elain and tear her to shreds. Rhysand was inclined to do the same.

“Just tell us what you want, Elain,” Cassian ground out. He was tired, sick and tired of being played in this game the middle Archeron sister was playing. He wanted out, desperately.

And he was not even the damned male she wanted.

In all honesty, if this situation had not been as dire as it was, Cassian would have been teasing Azriel for finally being able to attract the females around him.

“I want protection. A guarantee that I will continue to live here, protected by Azriel no matter what,” She smiled sinisterly, “I want a bargain saying that if I tell you how to save your mate you will guard me with your life.”

“But that would mean-“ “Exactly.” Elain smiled again, her amusement dancing in her eyes, malice growing on her face even with the grin plastered on.

Realisation dawned on the three males all at once.

No matter what, Elain would always torment their lives, this bargain only made it that much harder to get rid of her. But it would save his mate…and break her heart at the same time.

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Azriel spent half a day agonising over the decision. Rhysand had opted to isolating himself in his study once more and Cassian took his frustration out on a training dummy.

Why?

Why did it have to come to this.

When did it all go wrong?

Cassian wanted to blame himself, in fact a part of him did feel guilty. While helping the Archeron sisters to integrate into their world they had shut her out, and despite her best attempts to assist in any way, Y/N had always been unable to fit in. Like a flip had been switched, he finally recalled every moment where he saw her expressions change, where she masked her pain, her hurt, just to accommodate to them.

After all this time, eventually she had protected them and they had to pay for it. For not noticing.

Wanting to punch himself was an understatement.

Cassian gave his all to the training dummy, recalling how Elain acted, how when Y/N was near Elain would always be cold, how Y/N always dismissed it as just Elain being hostile to her environment, how when Y/N lashed out because she was tired of being treated like shit by Elain, Cassian, Rhysand and Azriel had all stood by Elain and called Y/N unreasonable at first.

Unreasonable.

And now she was dying.

Falling to his knees, Cassian buried his face in his hands, his hair falling over his face as his hair and snapped, and thunder roared above him.

And just like that, he let his tears pour free for his friend, his only sister, he let his sorrow come loose and he cried.

The general of the Night Court, cried.

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Rhysand had was familiar with pain.

He had felt pain when his mother was murdered, he had felt pain when Amarantha had tried to torture him during the first war. He had felt pain in war camps and felt pain every single time Cassian punched his face for being stupid or just because of a stupid fight.

Rhysand was familiar with pain.

However, as he sat in the corner of his study, as he curled up against the wall, his head bent over, leaning against the brick, his heart ached. Ached in a way he was more than familiar with but was devastingly painful anyways.

Rhysand had always felt pain.

But as he thought of his sister, at everything she meant to him, at every single time she had called him stupid, told him he was a jerk, every time they cried together, every time they fought with each other, every time they fought for each other.

Rhysand could not stop the pain.

Not as his eyes hurt from crying so much, not even as he tried to curl further into the corner, trying to imagine her warm hug when he was first used by Amarantha. For the first time in centuries Rhysand realised how easily he could lose his sister. Even as he gagged from not easting, even as his legs went numb from sitting in the same position, even when the sky went dark, Rhysand sat there.

“Come home, little star,” He whispered into the darkness, “We can go to your favourite bookstore, I’ll let you put me in a dress again, I’ll even let you put make up and jewellery on me,” He let out another choked sob.

“Just come home.”

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When the decision was made, Azriel slowly went to Elain’s room in the dead of the night. Elain stirred softly before she came aware of his presence.

“I will make the bargain with you, but only with one condition,” Azriel spoke softly.

“And that is?” Elain purred.

“The bargain will only be effective if she lives. Because if she does not survive this, I think I would die anyways,” He replied softly. At least this way, his starlight would be safe. His mate would have to live.

“Fine,” Elain shrugged.

And just like that, a tattoo burned onto Azriel’s ankle, and as he glanced down, he saw the outline of a bloodied rose, thorns and all.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

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“What in the world,” Cassian breathed.

Azriel had done it, he had made the bargain and now knew how to save Y/N. However, as Azriel explained how it should be done to both him and Rhys, the plan seemed a little…..volatile.

“So we’re supposed to use Rhysand’s daemati powers to enter her subconsciousness, and travel into her mind where it’s probably sitting there thinking she’s asleep, manipulate her subconsciousness to make introduce her to a dreamscape, and from there materialise a dream version in her head of ourselves in order to explain to her this entire mess and convince her that Azriel still loves her?” Cassian repeated.

The long winded explanation was….long, but it did summaries what they were going to attempt. Rhysand tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently as he weighed his options, the plan did seem viable, not something that he had done before, but viable.

The only problem now was….

“Who’s going in to talk to her?” Rhys asked.

How would someone go in and convince his dying sister that her mate, who she thinks cheated on her, still loves her? Who would be the best choice in this?

Pacing from one side of the room to another, he ran his hand through his hair.

“Azriel should,” Cassian piped up, but Rhysand shook his head.

“No he could trigger her and send her in the other direction, he could make her die faster,” Rhysand said.

“Or he could show her that he still loves her, give him a chance to explain and ask for forgiveness, do you think she’ll magically believe what we say? Azriel himself will be his proof that she does not need to die.” Cassian countered.

“No I won’t,” Rhysand shook his head, “I won’t let him hurt my sister again.”

Azriel visibly flinched at that.

Growling at his high lord, Cassian stormed up to Rhysand, snarling in his face.

“Azriel might be the only chance your sister has to survive this! And you are willing to throw that away because you don’t trust him anymore?” Rhysand snapped back, “I am not putting my sister’s life in his hands, not again!”

“She’s my sister too!” Cassian screamed.

Rhysand faltered at Cassian’s words.

“You weren’t there the first time this happened, you weren’t there when I found her, bloodied in the snow, when they tried to kill her when she was 15 because she was causing too much trouble in illyrian camps,” Cassian sobbed, “You may have been her real brother but when you were trying to be High Lord, she was trying to survive without a family! I was her family!” Cassian begun pacing himself now.

“You weren’t there when she got her first crush, when I taught her how to throw a real punch, when I taught her how to fly when she was 10 because her father deemed her unworthy to learn and her mother could not teach her!” Cassian looked Rhysand dead in the eyes.

“She was my sister too, and with all my heart I believe that Azriel is her best shot.”

Hesitating, Rhysand looked between Cassian and Azriel, before nodding slowly.

“Fine.”

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Sitting beside her bed, Azriel grasped his mates hand for what seemed to be the last time. No. Not the last. He would not allow it to be. Regardless of the cost, Azriel would bring her home.

Hundreds of possibilities ran through his head as he gazed at her sleeping face. She looked like she was sleeping, but it was…wrong. Her head was not in an awkward position for him to adjust, she did not stir ever so slightly in his presence to greet him with a soft whimper that he was breathing too loud. She looked like she was sleeping, but in his bones he knew she was not.

Squeezing her hand one more time, he turned as the door open, allowing Rhysand, Madja and Cassian to walk in.

“Nesta will handle all the training today, Feyre promised to continue overseeing all diplomatic and court duties, we’re all set.” Rhysand explained.

Nodding his head, Azriel set his eyes on the wooden floors as he took a deep breathe, closing his eyes as he let the familiar tendrils of magic curl around his mind. He would bring you home.

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He felt as if he had been walking for hours, his soul on the brink of collapse. The heavy weight on his ever preset body, as he kept going forward into the darkness.

There was no light in this place.

Even as he fell to his knees, he crawled, only one person on his mind. But where was she? Where was he?

He could only keep crawling, moving, doing anything but stopping. And even as the ground seemed to swallow him whole, he did nothing.

Maybe he deserved this.

Maybe he needed this.

Pain screamed at him from ever direction, the darkness raging.

Yes.

He deserves this.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Waking up with a start, Azriel sat up as he looked around him, his memory hazy as he tried to recall the last thing.

Right in from of him was the Sidra, its water currents moving as he stared at the river, looking around for signs of anything else. However, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. Velrais, was empty.

Standing to his feet, he let out a shaky swear before taking a moment to stretch all his limbs. This was….Y/N’s dreamscape, her subconsciousness.

But where was she?

Wading through the streets of Velaris, he silently took note of how everything was the same, except there were no people. He could hear the sounds of a bustling city, but it was as if they were whispers of wind, taunting him of a world that was currently not real.

“Y/N?” He called out. If this was her dreamscape, surely she could hear him. That’s when an idea struck him. Grappling for the tendril in his soul, he almost shook with relief when a gold thread appeared in front of him, and he looked to where it led, his heart almost dropping.

Her favourite bakery.

Of course.

Entering the small shop, he saw his starlight in the corner of the bakery, curled up against the plush bright seats, a croissant in one hand and a book in the other.

“My love,” He whispered.

Looking up, your eyes widened as you dropped the book, your mouth agape as you took in the male before you.

“What are you doing here?” You demanded. Your heart palpitated in your chest as you stared at him. He was not supposed to be here. You were supposed to be either waiting for your impending death so your soul could travel to the next life, or wait for Madja to save you.

He just stared at you.

Stared at you, speechless, as he looked over you as if he could not believe you were in front of him.

“I won’t repeat myself!” You yelled.

“Sweetheart, I-“ He started but you flinched away when we tried to walk towards you.

Feeling his heart shattering, he just looked at you helplessly, he wanted to tell you that it was alright, that it was safe, but how could he when he has been the cause of your pains?

“I just came to explain, we found a way to enter your subconsciousness and I came, I needed to explain, I need you to understand-“ “Understand what?” You scoffed, “That my mate, cheated on me?” He shook his head stepping towards you, even as you tried to claw at him to escape, to leave, to do anything but look at him.

You struggled as he grasped your wrists, tried to kick at him, but he would let you hurt him if you just listened.

Even as you calmed, giving in to the fact that he was physically stronger that you, you spoke, “Loyalty, equality, eternal and forever,” You recalled the promises he had made you, “Who would have known the spymaster’s ‘forever’ really meant ‘until there is better’?” You wanted to laugh, laugh at yourself for how foolish you were, cry at how much it hurt to think of how he had broken our trust, scream at how you had hidden your pain to save HIM and now you were the one suffering.

“You are a joke, Azriel, a liar and a joke.”

“Please listen to me,” He breathed, “Please just let me explain.”

“Explain what!? Was she better, prettier, more compliant? Is that it? You couldn’t take the heat of someone so strong headed anymore, right? Too many opinions, too much energy, just too much right? Do you think I haven’t suffered enough? Why are you still here to torment me? Do you think I did not spend enough time agonising over how you loved her more than me!?”

“I was drugged!” He exclaimed.

Silence.

As the words sank in, as your eyes widened and you finally, finally looked him in the eyes.

“I was drugged,” He repeated, “Elain had started sneaking in aphrodisiacs into my tea when I first started accompanying her to help her adjust. I never noticed, I only realised there were blocks of time I could not recall here and there, that everything seemed hazy, but I couldn’t stop it. It was sheer luck that Cassian noticed when Elain was trying to give me the daily dose of it.”

You wanted it to be true. More than anything you wanted what he said to be true. Because that would mean he never stopped loving you, that all the times of thinking you were less than, it meant that you had been wrong.

But you could not.

You refused to give your trust away to him again, because more than anything you knew he held your heart in his hands even now. Instead of delighting in that fact like you used to when you were happy, now you were terrified.

Your life hung in the balance.

And you had to choose yourself.

“Go back, Azriel,” You sighed, “Tell Madja to just kill me, because I am…so tired,” You breathed.

“No, no, no!” Denying your request, he knelt before you, hands on your waist as he buried his face into your abdomen, as his eyes flooded with tears and he shook.

“Please,” He begged, “Please, come home, let me fix this. Please, let me love you, let me show you that there was never a doubt in my own sane mind that I love you. Please.”

The spymaster, on his knees before you. Begging.

“I can’t, Az, can’t you see?” You lifted his chin to look at you, your own tears beginning to well up and trickle down your face, “I’m dying, I’m dying and if you don’t leave this place then you’ll die to. We both know there isn’t enough time.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Azriel murmured, “I’ll go with you and I will follow you, all the way till the end. I told you I will love you, until we are nothing but the stars travelling across the sky of Velaris, I will follow you, and I will love you.” He pulled you down, embracing you, “So don’t make me go, Starlight.”

As you breathed, in and out, in and out, as you let out a choked sob as you finally, finally let yourself embrace your mate, you let out a soft, mumbled, “Okay.”

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A/N: I know it’s not done but I have one LAST part after this I just wanted to really really really not rush this I tried fitting it all into one last part but sadly I could not next part will be happy I promise.

The people who are crossed out are the ones I could not tag please please please tell me in the replies if you want to be tagged, series taglist will NOT be repeated across parts.

Azriel’s taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

Series taglist: @its-sam-allgood @skylarkalchemist @doodlebugwatkins @buttermilktea11 @lilah-asteria @loverofclones @evergreenlark @tele86 @kingdomofstarrynights @peachyxlynch @annamariereads16 @unlikely-lovers-together @div94 @saltedcoffeescotch @ccacotartoglover @crazylokonugget @tanyaherondale @gabbiskylar01 @mariahoedt @that-one-little-soybean @cat-or-kitten @hauntedstudentobservationus @thefandomplace @minaaminaa8 @amysangel @mich0731 @petersunderoos96 @sidthedollface2 @wallacewillow0773638 @annaaaaa88 @azzydaddy @the-sweet-psycho @alaia-aya @laurzwrites @michellexgriffey @st4r-girl-official @krowiathemythologynerd @anuttellaa @i-am-infinite @iwishiwasaprincess @sad-anxious-muffin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @circe143 @deeshag @acourtofbatboydreams @randombibitch @romantasyreader28 @jojo2343-blog1 @lady-targaryens-world @nayaniasworld @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @mochibabycakes @bookisposts @moonlwghts @rcarbo1 @sunnyspycat @tee-hee135 @winnerwinnerchickendinner22

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Goddess — Cassian x Plus-size!Reader

Summary: Just Cass worshiping his gorgeous, gorgeous mate.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Pretty much pwp. Adult Content, 18+, minors dni. 🫶🏻

You can hear him, scent him, from down the hall.

He approaches your shared bedroom with firm, purposed footsteps. His shoes slam against the wooden floor with every great stride he takes. He’s not graceful like some males are. There’s a raw ruggedness to every movement; the swirling storm of somebody who will never be light nor lithe on their feet. But the charged, almost frantic energy with which he does everything is, undeniably, one of your favourite things about him.

The door bursts open, and Cassian enters.

He’s flushed and sweaty like he always is after training, strands of hair hanging down from where they’ve ripped free from the knot at the nape of his neck. He brushes them back with a large, callused hand, and takes in the sight of you sprawled on your bed, an open book perched on your lap.

He’s always a little wild and frenetic, an animal that can’t be tamed, but this morning — this morning, it seems…extreme. A fire burns in his hazel eyes, and he licks his lips and rolls his shoulders as though there’s too much tension in them.

“How was training?” You ask casually, thumbing through your book.

“Fuck training.” Is all Cassian offers, and then he’s clambering onto the bed and folding his body over yours. “C’mere.”

He dips his head, clearly intent on capturing you in a kiss. But before it can land, your palm is in his face, pushing him away.

“Take your shoes off before you get on the bed, Cass.” You complain. “You’re all sweaty, too.”

A wicked grin tugs his lips up. He kicks his shoes off without sparing them a glance, and then he’s prowling back towards you. “You love it.”

Before you can respond, his mouth is slanting over yours in a deep kiss. His tongue immediately probes your mouth, and a deep groan rumbles in his chest.

“I couldn’t concentrate.” He huffs onto your mouth, hands moving up to your breasts. He gives a gentle squeeze. “I kept thinking about these.”

Immediately, your back arches into the touch. You tug your mouth off of his and cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not sure that’s part of the regime.”

“No it absolutely is not. But it still didn’t stop me thinking of them. Of everything I had waiting for me back here. This,” he moves down, pressing a kiss to the soft, pudgy flesh of your belly, “Mother above, I love this. And these,” his palms slip under your thighs, “I could spend all fucking day kissing these.”

He loves your thighs — has a real fascination with them. He loves touching them, stroking them, kissing them. Loves slotting himself between them. And fuck, he loves — is obsessed, even — with watching the way they rub together through your breeches while you walk. The way fabric hugs them and outlines their shape. The silvery stretch marks that create patterns in your skin and — rather conveniently — draw a path that snake up right to the creases between your legs. Yeah — he really, really loves those.

“I can’t imagine Azriel was all too impressed with your distraction.” You smile down at your mate, raking your fingers through his hair.

He growls softly, gently nips the flesh of one thigh, exposed beneath the shirt that you shucked on to lounge in — Cassian’s shirt. “I don’t want to hear another male’s name on those pretty lips right now.” He murmurs. “Only mine.”

“Jealous, jealous male.”

“Always.” His fingers are finding their way under the shirt, and he’s tugging it up, exposing more of you as you allow him to peel it from your skin. He chucks it behind him without giving it another thought, and then his eyes are devouring you.

Naked, now, except for your undergarments, Cassian can see everything from your full breasts to your soft tummy to your chubby thighs, and every dip, swell and crevice in between.

It’s taken you a while to make peace with the fact that you do not have the figure of the other females in Rhysand’s Inner Circle — and to realise that that is in no way a bad thing. That having a different body to them doesn’t mean having a lesser body than them. That yours is just as beautiful as theirs are — in a different way.

And having Cassian, the brilliant Illyrian general, worship you from head to toe every. single. day, most certainly helps.

Such heat flares in his gaze, now, as he drinks you in, that it’s almost too much to watch.

“You’re unreal,” he pants, despite no real exertion — yet. “I am so not worthy of you.”

“You’re more than worthy—”

“You’re a goddess. An actual fucking goddess.”

His mouth meets yours again, but it isn’t staying there long. He slots himself between those thighs he loves so much, his fingers biting into the generous flesh as he kisses his way along your jaw and down your neck, over your chest, down to the swells of your breasts. His tongue immediately flicks over one of your nipples, and you sigh at the sensation.

“I’ve never needed anyone or anything like I need you.” His mouth closes over your breast, a harsh suck puckering the flesh. “All,” he moves to the other breast, “the damn,” another suck, “time.”

“Cass,” you breathe, pleasure rolling down your spine. You need…something, anything — him.

“On it, sweetheart.” He says, and his kisses continue downwards.

They pepper your stomach, your hips, your pelvis. And his hands roam your body as they do, grasping at anywhere he can touch. He’s utterly obsessed with you, and he groans and ruts against the bed as he inhales slowly, breathes in your scent.

“You ready for me?” He grazes his teeth against your hip, dipping his fingers just past the waistband of your underwear. “My filthy mate. I can smell how ready you are.”

“Yes,” you sink back into the pillows, “please, Cass.”

“You never have to ask twice.”

He’s yanking your underwear down, and the stronger your scent becomes, the less he’s able to tamp down on those carnal noises that sound almost like animalistic snarls. He kisses one thigh, the other, and then tugs your legs apart with a hiss through his teeth.

“This is what I was thinking about during training.” He eyes your sex hungrily. “Getting between these incredible thighs. I couldn’t stop myself, and everyone knew it.”

“So get between them, General.” You drag a hand down your body, stopping between your legs. Your fingers mop up the wetness gathered there, swirling around your clit. The action dangles in front of Cassian like a toy. “Look how wet I am for you.”

The poor male is damn near salivating, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head. He growls, moving your hand out of the way, and he can no longer stop himself from lowering his head to that sweet, dripping pussy he’s spent all morning fantasising about.

He licks right up the centre of you, tongue diving between your folds. At the first lick, you give over to the pleasure, the moans, pressing your hand to the back of Cassian’s head.

“Taste so good, my girl,” his tongue flicks your clit, “all this for me?”

“All of it, Cass. Always.”

“Yeah? You going to come for me?”

“Yes.” A moan escapes you as you tug at the strands of his hair. “Gods, yes.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your head falls back as he simultaneously sucks at your clit and flicks it with his tongue, and you feel fingers sinking between your folds. The sensations Cassian manages to wring from you never lessen in their impact. There’s something about having this brilliant male kneel between your legs and paint you with stunning pleasure. He calls you a goddess, and he treats you like one.

“Fuck,” you breathe, canting your hips up in time with the strokes of his tongue. “Cass…I want you inside me.”

“I want you to come for me first.” Without warning, he pushes a finger into you, and you moan. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Gods—yes,” you’re rocking against his hand, gasping as he adds a second finger. His lips smile against you.

“Go ahead — fuck my fingers and take what you need. Come for me, my girl.”

The two of you work together, him thrusting his fingers and continuing the strokes at your clit, and you taking it all so, so well. And you can tell he loves every moment of your pleasure — the way it builds up in your bones, your veins, and readies itself to implode.

And then your mate curls his fingers deep inside you, and it does exactly that. Release bursts through you at an unstoppable force. The impact of it surges to every corner of your body and has you shaking, gasping, screaming.

Cassian moans as if the climax is his own. He drinks and drinks and drinks, not letting a drop of you go to waste. He takes the clenching of your walls around his fingers and the harsh tugs of his hair. Takes it all, happily.

You’re not sure how long your head is spinning for, but you’re eventually coming down, just in time to see Cassian press a kiss to your belly. You tug his hair again and breathe, “Want you, Cass.”

“My beautiful,” he kisses your belly again, “beautiful mate.” As he pulls back, his hands drag down your thighs. “My goddess.”

He jumps up from the bed, and never have you seen him rid himself of clothes so quickly. Clothed, Cassian is stunning. Naked, he’s breathtaking.

Your eyes study him in utter awe, and you wonder — not for the first time — what you did so right in a previous life to have Cassian as your mate in this one. Every inch of him is firm and honed. Tan skin nicked with scars; bold, beautiful wings; rippling muscles and sharp edges. And his cock—

His cock has you swallowing.

It stands to attention, hard and proud and leaking at the head. Cassian wraps his hand around it and pumps a few times, his eyes still intensely on you. He grits his teeth.

“When you look at me like that,” he says, “you make me feel like a god.”

“You are.” Your chest rises and falls heavily. And you mean it — to you, he is. A god and goddess together.

Stark heat crosses his face, and he jerks his chin in signal. “Come here. I want you on top.”

He’s told you time and time again that having you on top of him is like having his prayers answered. Feeling you rocking on him, riding him, your thighs at his sides…a feeling like nothing else in the world. And you’re more than happy to oblige.

So you’re swapping positions. He’s sprawling back on the bed, wings beneath him, and you hover above him. You’re eager to feel him inside you, but you stop short at the weighty gaze that follows your every move.

You do not balk from it, though. This confidence is a stark difference from the early days of yours and Cassian’s sex life, when you’d do everything to avoid him staring at you for too long, when you’d insist on fucking in the dark. Cassian watches you approach like you’re the last meal he’ll ever get to have. He looks…lost for words.

You reach down, cupping his face between your palms. “You’ll give me an ego.”

“You should have an ego.” He turns his head, kissing your hand. “Fuck me, you’re exquisite.”

With a smile, you’re dipping down and slanting your mouth over his. And as Cassian kisses you back, he takes your hands, gently, slowly pulling you down, until you’re straddling him.

“Did you think about this during training, too?” Your voice shakes as the head of his cock brushes your entrance. “Being inside me? Having me ride you?”

Cassian kisses you so deeply, it leaves you breathless. A loud, wet kiss with his lips moulded to yours, his tongue and your tongue dancing. He pulls away only to tell you, “I think about being inside you, and having you ride me, all the fucking time.”

You smile, reaching behind you to palm at his cock. And a soft groan breaks from him as you pump his length gently. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, moving his hand down to grab your thighs.

“Put me inside you,” he shudders, his callused thumbs sweeping your skin. “Need to feel your cunt around me.”

You can’t wait any longer, either. You steady his cock at the base, and the second it’s brushing through your soaked folds, you’re both moaning.

And even louder, still, as you sink so, so slowly onto him.

The more his cock slides into you, the harder Cassian grips onto your thighs. He grits his teeth, watching closely as you pause, allow yourself to adjust to his size, and sink down to the hilt.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His hands smooth upwards, skating over your hips and round to grab at your generous ass. He squeezes, and then he’s lifting you, and you’re moving on his cock.

You could do this forever — have his long, thick length sliding in and out of you. In seconds, you’re slick enough, drenching him enough, to bounce on his length. You roll your hips, bracing your hands on the headboard and throwing your head back at the pleasure that skitters through you. Cassian leans down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

“So full,” you whine, grinding against him faster.

“Yeah?” He breathes. “My cock fills you up nice and good, doesn’t it? I know exactly what this pretty cunt needs.” He lifts you up by your ass, growling, “You want it hard, my goddess?”

“Fuck, Cass, yes.”

“You gonna scream for me? Make sure those lot training on the roof know that I rushed away to fuck my mate like she needed me to?”

“Yes—gods.”

“Scream for me, then.” He grips you hard, and he gives you no choice but to scream.

He slams up into you, again and again, the angle so desperate and deep that your control utterly slips. You can’t pull it back. You can’t grab the upper hand and pin him down to ride him — and you don’t want to. Not as he hits a spot so deep inside you that another climax knocks the breath out of you, and you’re screaming, moaning, clawing.

A deep, smug chuckle breaks through the haze of your orgasm, but Cassian doesn’t falter once. His brow furrows more and more with every thrust. He’s holding you closer to him, burying his face into your neck, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses, bracing himself, “how do you feel better and better every damn time?”

“Because I’m yours,” you pant, and Cass chokes on a groan, “and you are mine.”

“Always.” His mouth finds yours in a deep, unforgiving kiss, and he doesn’t pull away as his body begins to tremble beneath you, his thrusts faltering and becoming sloppy.

He slumps down, lying your body flush against his, and just like that, he’s on the home stretch.

“Give it to me, Cass,” you watch the pinched pleasure on his face, “I want you to spill inside me.”

Your mate throws his head back, a shout escaping him. His hips still as you feel the explosion of his orgasm deep inside you, painting your walls with his come. Spurt after spurt, it feels never ending, and Cassian groans gutturally through it all. He well and truly fills you up.

He stays inside you for a while after — while you catch your breaths. But when you’ve both calmed a little, he’s pulling back to meet your gaze, and a dazed laugh leaves him. “Fuck, that was good.” He breathes.

“Mmhm.” You smirk, leaning in to kiss him. “Better than your fantasising?”

“My fantasies can be pretty elaborate, but even this brain couldn’t conjure up anything as brilliant as you.” He kisses you back, his hand gently patting your ass. “My delicious little mate.”

You can only smile against his lips. And you’d be content to stay here all day, wrapped up in him, his mouth on yours. But you grin and snake your arms around his neck. “Cass?”

“Yes, my love?”

“You really need a bath.”

He jumps up without a word, your combined wetness spilling down those thighs he loves so much, as he carries you with him to the bathroom.

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

cassian tags: @brekkershadowsinger @wandas-dream @nightscourtt @luna-1-3-5 @ruler-of-hades @chocolatecakelargeshake @asemkta @lucyysthings @a-frog-with-a-laptop @iammichellekocwin @illyriansimp @azrielsbabyg @brookeduggann @toohardtoforgetcth @gmey11 @historianscalledusfriends @basicbittywitty @koemi-kimo @sadiebluewin @angelatinasstuff @eos-princess @theunforgivingsworld @lysjeonsworld @aaronwarnerswifereal @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @str4vvberry @lxnoluvr @moron-says-what @korol-lantsov @evabalexeeva @imaginethat16 @aoibhinnslater04 @kennedy-brooke @magnoliamermaid @winchestersister55 @carrxttcake @shannonsaid @ladylunavoodoo13 @glitterforashes @misslunatic1655 @basicbittywitty @bbycowboi @mel-wcst @amieinghigh @acourtofidiots @scooobies @grunchwench @glitterypirateduck @wallacewillow0773638 @jjlevin @siriuslyslyslytherin @supernatural99 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @loglady00 @bbycowboi @tastydewdrops @waywardcasbutt @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thereadefofsmut @padfootsvixen @donnadiddadog

[heich0e]

suna's parents divorced when he was eight.

he doesn't remember a lot of the finer details as he's gotten older, mostly just that there used to be a lot of yelling, but he does remember the two piles of belongings that stacked up in the empty living room of his childhood home: one consisting of his father's and his own, and the other comprised of his mother's and his little sister's. their entire life, their entire family, packed up into cardboard and then divided down the middle.

the apartment he moved into with his father was always too quiet. it was in aichi, far enough away from where he spent the first decade of his life that he didn't have to be reminded of it every time he left the house, but since his father worked so much it still left him with plenty of time to think. to grieve. though maybe he didn't recognize it as that at the time. he played video games his father bought for him after school. ate convenience store bentos or whatever leftovers were set aside for him in the fridge for dinner. he put himself to bed at night. it wasn't a bad life, though maybe a bit lonely.

he was scouted to play for inarizaki when he was 14.

the lonely apartment turned into a lively dorm. he had new friends (his teammates) to play video games with. his convenience store bentos were replaced with hot meals from the meal hall. the loneliness of the apartment in aichi was a distant memory, but still lingered.

"i'm home."

rintarou drops his training bag in the genkan as he toes off his shoes, calling into the apartment to announce his return.

"welcome home!" you call back from further in the apartment, and the sound makes him smirk a little to himself.

you've been coming over to his place a lot lately, ever since he gave you his spare key. he's not upset about this in the slightest, but it doesn't mean he won't take every possible opportunity to tease you for it. he plans how he's going to make fun of you as he pads into his home towards the sound of your voice. he almost has it all planned out—his delivery on the very tip of his tongue—when he falters to a stop.

"how was your day?" you ask him without looking up from what you're doing.

and suddenly, anything rintarou may have wanted to say—joke or otherwise—is beyond him.

he watches as you set a plate of food down on the already full table just off his little kitchen. the food that covers the surface is still hot enough that steam curls up into the air above it, its preparation perfectly timed to his arrival home. his apartment is warm, and smells good, and there's music playing from your cellphone on the other side of the room that you must have been listening to while you cooked.

his chest feels tight.

you turn to look at him when he doesn't respond to your question.

"rin?" you ask again, a lilt of worry in your tone. "you okay?"

"what's all this?" he manages to ask, nodding towards the table where the meal you prepared is still waiting.

"oh, i've been craving my mom's recipe for the past few days, i just thought i'd make it for dinner," you say, tugging at your fingers nervously. your entire countenance is a bit different now, strained like you're worried you've done something wrong. "hope that's okay?" your words lift at the end like a question.

rintarou's never seen so much food on his table. can't remember the last time he even sat there to eat a meal—let alone a home cooked one. his face feels hot, and his eyes sting, and he just can't bring himself to look at you.

"yeah," he says, and if you notice how his voice is a bit croaky, you're nice enough not to tease him about it. "'course it's okay."

you smile, and you look relieved. "wash your hands then, it's getting cold."

you eat your dinner together and talk about your days. you take a shower while he cleans up the dishes. you fall asleep tangled up together on the couch with a movie playing in the background.

his home isn't quiet anymore. he isn't lonely.

and it's thanks to you.

[lady-of-tearshed]

Lost in translation

Cassian x Reader

Cassian Week 2024

Day 4: Lover

@cassianappreciationweek

A/N: Honestly, I think that Cassian, as a lover, is a big fan of physical touch. Massages, hugs, holding hands, cuddling, having sex… That’s exactly how I imagine this male’s love language. So I thought: What would happen if our Lord of Bloodshed's mate had a completely different love language? And here's how this little fic got written. Enjoy! 💕

Summary: Cassian is worried he's being too clingy since you don't seem to show him your love with physical touches... But maybe the two of you just got lost in translation.

Warnings: Mention of nudity, but nothing explicit. Miscommunication angst. Happy ending.

Word count: 1,236k words

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

And they lived happily ever after… The end.

You snap the book close in your hands and groan. You slide the back of the book onto the nightstand, right beside your empty mug of tea, and stretch your arms above your head. You sigh at the feeling of your numb muscles stretching out after a long time stuck in the same position. You look up at the clock to check how long exactly you’ve been reading, and the realization hits you full force.

Seven whole hours. Mother above… More like “Mother’s tits”, as your mate would so graciously say.

Speaking of him, you haven’t heard much of him in a while, which was weird, since he would always be tucked at your side at any given time of the day. He would usually burrow his face in the middle of your breasts, and start kissing them sneakily once he has enough of waiting for you to finish reading. He would become insufferable if you have the misfortune to read a relatively steamy part of your book and become all hot and bothered. Cassian would always manage to make you even more flustered or aroused when this happens. 

But the General hasn't shown up for seven whole hours. Tendrils of guilt swirls around your stomach, squeezing it uncomfortably as you come to the realization that you have failed to notice Cassian’s absence until just now. You softly tug on the golden bond that shone permanently in your chest, connecting your soul with the male of your every desire, but you receive no response, as if he had blocked you out. 

You slide your cold feets into your slippers, and pick up the mug on the nightstand, bringing it with you on your quest to find the General. The house of the wind is silent, save from the fire soothingly dancing in the hearth. Your eyes scan the living room, then the kitchen… No sign of Cassian. You walk toward the sink, washing your mug and placing it down into the drying rack, all while thinking where your mate can possibly be at this time of the night. 

Your eyes move to the front door, and you notice that there still was a thin layer of snow melting under the sole of his boots. He must’ve been training until late, which means…

Just as you start to make a connection of where your mate is most likely to be, the sound of water running from the bathroom confirms your theory. You tiptoe to the bathroom, trying to be sneaky, but Cassian’s gaze is already set on you when you walk in the bathroom. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He says, turning his back to you.

The water is pouring down on him, soaking his hair, droplets of water sliding down the waves of his hair, following the uneven black lines tattooed on his shoulders, sliding all the way down his back, finishing their course by caressing his muscled ass… “I wasn’t sleeping.” You admit, starting to undress, not minding at all that your mate can smell the shift in your scent. 

Cassian shoulder’s tense slightly as you walk closer to the foggy glass door, naked. You raise a brow, halting your hand on the doorknob of the shower, about to question him but he’s quicker to speak. “Y/N, don’t come in here just because you pity me.” All hints of arousal leave your body at his words, your brain blurry from trying to understand where Cassian's insecurity comes from.  

“Alright, then,” You say, stepping inside the shower, standing right behind the General's massive shoulders, hands on your hips. “Mind telling me where such thoughts come from?” Your finger taps on the back of his head slightly, insisting that he turns around to face you, to face what’s on his mind and open up to you. 

Cassian’s shoulders drop, his wings so low that they brush the shower tiles on the floor. “Cassie… My love…” You stroke the spot in between his wings in a comforting manner, and you feel his wards crumble, his emotions pouring through the bond. 

Self-loathing, pain, loneliness… 

His feelings make your own heart sting, and your face crumbles at how much pain your mate seems to suffer from. You lift his wing, and carefully slip underneath it to sneak between the wall and his face. He turns his face away from you, facing the wall. You can’t tell if it’s tears, or water that’s rolling down his cheeks. “I need you to be honest with me,” He sighs, as if trying to gather the strength to speak his next words. “Do you…” His eyebrows knit, and your eyes glance to his fists, clenching, unclenching. He was nervous. “Do you find me annoying?”

“No, Cass-”

“Too clingy maybe?”

You frown, and wrap your fingers around his wrist. “No… My love-”

“Then why is it everytime I touch you, you…” His eyes snap to yours, and you hold your breath at how bloodshot they look. From crying. “You…” His voice softens, and he has to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. “Do you like it when I touch you?” He asks in a whisper, his head tilting to the side. Pain was written all over his face.

“Oh, Cassian…” You smile sadly, opening your arms to offer him a hug. He swings you into his arms, both of you now standing under the warm water. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. “I love it when you touch me. What made you think otherwise?” You comfort him, kissing the side of his head lovingly. 

“It almost looks like you avoid touching me. I just… I don't know. It made me wonder if perhaps I was the one being too touchy.” He confesses, still hiding his face in the safety of your neck. 

“Hey… look at me.” You move back to cup his cheek, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “If I didn't like you touching me, I would've told you so. I promise,” You kiss the tip of his nose. “Now, if I made you feel like I was avoiding touching you, I'm sorry. It's just…” You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “I'm just… I just like to express my love differently, I guess. Like, I usually express my love with little acts of services, or words of affirmation…” 

Cassian nods slowly, and scratches the back of his head, chuckling too. “Oh…” 

There's a moment of silence where the both of you just stand naked in the shower, your hands caressing Cassian’s cheeks, the stubbles scratching your digits softly. 

Cassian’s hands wrap delicately around your wrists, and he brings one of them to his lips, pampering the soft skin of it with kisses. “I'm so sorry I didn't notice all of this… I was too focused on my own love language. And since you weren't so… Gods, I'm such an idiot…”

“You're not an idiot,” You reassure him. “You're allowed to be worried about things, Cass. I'm happy we talked about it.” 

His lips leave your wrist, and hover over your mouth, softly brushing against yours. He tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear, and whispers against your lips. “Yeah… I'm glad we talked about it too…” Then he kisses you, his lips feeling so light against yours. So was his heart, now that you've communicated.

Acotar Taglist: @lilah-asteria @mybestfriendmademe

Cassian Taglist: @ladybookstan @acotar-lover

[sleepypanda27]

Distractions

Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky is bored filling out the paperwork. Luckily, you're there to distract him.

Words: 616

Once or twice a week, Bucky worked in his office to handle the paperwork. This was one of those days. You softly knocked on Bucky's half-closed door to his office. His eyes looked up from the pile of paperwork in front of him. Honestly, you thought he had fallen asleep. 

"Hey, Buck." You smiled, shutting the door and walking to his desk.

"Hi, doll." He stretched his arms above his head, leaning back in the chair. 

"I brought you coffee." You pecked his cheek and placed the mug on the desk, leaning against the table in front of him.

"Thanks." Bucky rolled his chair closer to you, placing his head in your lap, and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm gonna take a nap." You tangled your fingers in his hair, softly massaging his head with your fingertips. "Sweetheart," He hummed in contentment. "That feels so good." He almost moaned. 

Bucky pulled you in his lap, nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You giggled as his scruff brushed over your skin. 

"I love this shirt on you." You brushed your palms over his chest, stopping at the buttons and rolling them between your fingers.

"I don't know, I think it looks better on you." His hands slid up your sides. "Especially if you're not wearing anything underneath it." He smirked, looking into your eyes with mischief sparkling in his blues. "And I've had my way with you." 

You chuckled at his statements.

"Ugh," He sighed. "I have so many things to do. I need to make a training schedule for new recruits and sort out this pile of papers, but all I want to do is you." He smiled playfully. 

"I would love that, but we're at work."

"So?" He quirked a brow.

"What if someone comes in?"

"I still don't see where's the problem." While Bucky's hands found their way under your shirt, he leaned closer to your neck, placing a soft kiss. 

"Bucky," You gasped, giggling as he blew raspberries against your neck. You laughed as you squirmed away from him.

He wrapped his vibranium arm firmly around your waist and stood up with his free hand, sweeping the papers and stationary off the table. Thankfully, the coffee mug survived, staying on the table.

"Bucky!" You giggled as he seated you on top of the table. 

"Yes, dear?" He smugly replied before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 

His stationary phone rang. He ignored it the first time. The second time it called, he pulled away to look who was calling so persistently. "Oh no, it's Tony."

"I'm not here." You whispered, catching your breath.

Bucky nodded, pressing a button on the phone console and setting it on the loudspeaker. "Yes, Tony?"

"I need Y/n." Tony's voice rang through the speaker, filling the quiet room.

"Sorry, but she's not here," Bucky answered in all seriousness, looking at you, basically undressing you with his eyes.

"Yeah, right." He chuckled. "Y/n, come to my office in five." Tony knew where to find you when you weren't in your office. Either you would be with Nat or Sam. But most frequently, he could find you with Bucky.

"Okay, Tony." You rolled your eyes, ending the call. Getting off Bucky's table and straightening your clothes, you spotted the thing you were coming for in the first place. "I'm taking this." Smiling, you took the invoice from the floor. "Tony approved buying the knives you wanted."

"How did you manage that?"

"It's like you don't know me at all. You can thank me later." You winked at him as you turned to walk away.

"Oh, darlin', already can't wait." He said as he playfully slapped your backside. 

[koenigami]

SUNDRESS SZN. <3 synopsis : it's that time of the year again ft. : nanami, gojo, shiu, choso tags : +18, smut, fem!reader, cunnillingus, nipple play, unprotected sex, dry humping, mentions of cumming in pants, sundresses?? wc : 1,5k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ NANAMI KENTO This gentleman right here is a sucker for gorgeous legs, so please pardon him if he loses some of his composure when he sees the soft skin of your thigh peak out of the little slit of your dress. 

“So? What do you think? I think it looks pretty okay.” You smile brightly at Nanami who’s been sitting on the edge of the bed and patiently waiting for you for at least an hour to get ready for your lunch date. Though as you twirl around in front of the mirror, posing and appreciating your newest piece, you notice your boyfriend’s reluctant stare in the reflection. Disapprovement. That is what you interpret his gaze as, and instantly feel yourself shrinking. 

“I-I haven’t worn one like these in a while so I thought maybe-” The smile on your coloured lips falls as you sigh, and all of a sudden you feel naked. Exposed. You avert your eyes from him when a sudden heat creeps up your cheeks, and the familiar feeling of embarrassment makes your eyes sting. “Nevermind, I should probably change. Otherwise, we’ll be late.”

Before you can even think about a plan B outfit, you’re pulled between Nanami’s thighs, your hands flying out and settling on his shoulders to steady yourself. Your body shivers the slightest when one of his hands slides through the slit of your dress, gripping your leg and perching it on the bed beside him. 

“Darling, I-” When has your heart started beating so fast? You watch as his fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, and a whimper nearly leaves your mouth at the way they keep moving higher, the thin fabric of your dress being bunched up and riding further and further up. Your breath stutters at his sudden breathy laugh, goosebumps rising along your exposed skin. “Don’t take this off, please. You look beautiful in it. So, so beautiful.” And before you can even interject, you’re silenced by the open mouthed kisses he’s leaving along the fabric covering your stomach. “Shit. I’m sorry, my love, but I don’t think we’ll be able to make it to that restaurant today.” The teasing warmth of his palm vanishes when his body slides down unto the carpeted floor, his mouth mere inches away from the place that you all of a sudden seem to need him the most right now. So when his finger hooks around your panties and pulls them to the side, and his lips latch onto your little pulsing clit- You realise that all this time Nanami’s been staring at you with nothing but sheer hunger in his eyes. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ GOJO SATORU We all know that he needs a little more sugar than the average person for his brain to function properly. Yet when he sees you all dolled up in your cute little sundress looking like a little candy… his brain does anything but function properly. 

“Sato-!” A gasp leaves your raw kissed lips when your back slams against the door of the classroom, knocking some air out of you. But there is nothing you can do when Gojo’s large body towers above you, assaulting your lips and neck as his slender hands wander along your body. 

You're still clueless about what has gotten into him so suddenly. He seemed so calm and composed earlier when you dropped by the training ground where he had been watching Megumi and Maki training. Sure he was a little handsier than usual, not able to keep his hands to himself as he kept pressing sweet kisses on your cheeks every once in a while, and whispering a few compliments into your ear about how you looked especially cute today.

His fingers play with the ribbon on your right shoulder, and you shriek when cold air suddenly hits your bosom, the top of your dress partially dropping down. “What are you- ah!” You clamp a hand over your mouth when his wet kisses turn into harsher bites, his teeth teasing the flesh that’s spilling out of your bra. “Satoru.” You hiss through gritted teeth. “We can’t do this here! What if someone sees us?” You curse and bury your hands into his hair when he leans down and pulls any fabric away that's in his way. His body seems to envelope you whole. All you can smell is him, all you hear are his breathy groans, and all you can feel is his thigh settling between your legs as his tongue starts twirling around your sensitive nipples. “Don’t care. ‘M too hard now to go out there like this.” His breath hitches when he feels your wetness spread along the fabric of his pants as you desperately grind down on him. “Oh fuck… and it’s all your fault, pretty girl.” 

Sudden voices appear somewhere behind the closed door. Was it Yuji? Nobara? You’re not sure, and to be frank, neither of you cares at this point. You’ll need more than some little lousy students to stop the strongest from enjoying his little sweetness.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ KONG SHIU He’s a simple man. Does not care what you wear, where you wear it, but- God, he feels a little disgusting when he sees you in that pretty dress, looking all innocent while all he wants to do is just keep breed you and breed you, over and over again. 

A whistle disrupts the silence in the kitchen as you put the prepared casserole into the oven, steps echoing behind you as they keep getting closer. Hands settle on either side of you, caging you between Shiu’s body and the counter when he starts pressing fleeting kisses behind your ear and further down your neck. “To what do I owe the pleasure.” His own lips stretch into a smile when he hears you giggle, the sound of it almost as pleasing as the sight in front of him. You turn and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips mere inches away from his as you bat your eyelashes at him. “You like it?”

He hums and rubs the soft material between his thumb and pointer, indulging himself a little longer as his eyes keep trailing up and down your body as if he can’t get enough of you. He exhales a long breath as he discards his jacket, hanging it over one of the barstools beside the marbled kitchen island before his hand settles on your lower back. “Come on, sweetheart. Bend over for me.” 

You oblige and inhale sharply when Shiu lifts the hem of your dress up, cold air hitting your rear while the clinking sound of his belt reverberates through the room as he unbuckles it. His tip slowly prods at your entrance, and your toes curl when he slips further inside you. “Always looking so gorgeous for me, don’t ya?” He groans when feels your walls squeeze painfully tight around him. "Shit-" He spits and a glob of his saliva drips onto his fingers before he starts rubbing lazy circles over your clit. "Shh, relax, baby. Going to fuck this pretty pussy real’ good.” 

You may or may not have had to order take out because you ignored the stench of burned food while Shiu filled you up twice.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ KAMO CHOSO Weak. Please, have a little mercy on him because he’s just so weak for you, no matter what you do, say or even wear. He doesn’t understand this feeling, this … lust over something as simple as a piece of garment?

“Cho’?” You tilt your head the slightest when you feel him squirm beneath you, yet can’t seem to get a look at his face as he buries it into your shoulder. “Baby, are you okay?”

Okay? If your definition of “okay” is that he’s not been completely hard ever since he got a look at you when you entered the bar with Yuki and some other friends, and that it did not get even worse when you perched yourself on his lap sideways, with your bare legs dangling off his thigh- And don’t even get him started on that goddamn dress. So, no. No, he is not okay.

It is only when you adjust yourself the slightest bit to have a better look at him, that you notice something poking you through the thin material of your clothes. “I’m sorry, you just look so pretty today. I really don’t know why I- please, just ignore that.” He rasps hopelessly when he feels you still all of a sudden, feeling a sense of shame when he concludes that you must have realised what is going on with him. “It’ll probably go away in a while, but you should st-stop-” Stop squirming! he wants to add but he can’t when you all of a sudden start rocking your hips the slightest bit back and forth. Not strong enough for anyone else to notice but enough for Choso to get the slightest friction that he needs. That he craves. You smile and bite your lip as you mindlessly nod at something Yuji tells you from across the table, the boy’s eyes gleaming with excitement and completely oblivious to the situation you’ve put his big brother in just now. That night, everyone has come to believe that your boyfriend can’t hold his liquor, judging by the rosy colour dusting his cheeks, and the wet patch on his trousers from a spilled drink. Though, only you and him truly know where that stain on his crotch comes from. 

[danikamariewrites]

Take It Slow

Bat boys x reader

Note: I wrote this when my latest depressive episode was keeping me in bed and I had no motivation for anything. I honestly think this brought me out of my slump. Honestly I might delete this later I just wanted to post it because I wrote it but we’ll see

Warnings: depression, angst, comfort

You hadn’t bothered to get out of bed. Couldn’t be bothered. There was nothing to do anyway. Your mates seem to be busy these days, leaving you to do the same daily activities that you’ve grown bored of.

You were always tired too. Today you were even more exhausted than usual.

You couldn’t fall back to sleep, your eyes fluttering occasionally as you tried to keep them open, watching the ticking clock above the mantle across from the bed.

The hands showed a little past one o’clock, meaning Cassian and Azriel are back from training and Rhys is either locked up in his office or out at meetings. Leaving you to your own devices again. Just like every day. Curling up in a ball in the middle of the comically large bed you snuggle into your pillow, pulling the sheets around your shoulders.

—

Azriel and Cassian had looked all over the house for you. For the first time in weeks they were free all day and wanted to spend all of their time with you.

While Cass looked in the many rooms on the main floor Azriel wandered upstairs to the bedroom you all share, following that glowing thread attached to your heart. He felt a tug, a wave of sadness, then nothing. Azriel hit an impenetrable wall that only Rhys could teach you to put up.

Lifting a scared fist he lightly wrapped on the door. Not waiting for a response Azriel gently pushed the door open, poking his head into the dark room. Slipping inside on near silent feet, Azriel moves to sit on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey love, what are you still doing in bed?” Azriel’s tone was laced with concern, his fingers brushing your hair back from your forehead.

You bury your face deeper into your pillow, letting out a small noise that’s something between a groan and a whine. Azriel pulled back a little, now worried by your reaction to his touch. His mind raced. Are you sick? Is it your cycle?

The sound of the sheets rustling as you turned to face him had Azriel looking down at you again. A small frown on his plush lips. “Az,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be mean, but can you send Cass up. I-I just… I need him.” You swallow the lump in your throat, worried that one of your mates would take offense. But Cassian is the comforting one, he always knows what to say and holds you just right.

They all know this but your lip still trembles as tears start to build in your eyes as Azriel just looks at you unmoving. Closing your eyes you let a tear slide down your cheek. Azriel places a soft kiss on your forehead, murmuring that you didn’t hurt his feelings and he’d send Cass up right away.

Leaving the bedroom Azriel knew exactly what was wrong and would do anything to help you. Reaching out to Rhys in his mind as he walked into the kitchen As informs them what’s going on.

—

As soon as the door closed you let your tears flow. Curling up into a ball again you sobbed. You hoped Azriel wasn’t hurt that you asked for Cassian.

You hoped he knew that you love him and wouldn’t hurt his feelings. Your thoughts spiraled over your mates’s feelings, adding to your never ending worries.

These days your worries ranged from if you were helping your court to wondering if you’re just a burden to your mates. Another never ending cycle you go through daily.

You felt Cassian before you saw him. His love through the bond was breaking through the wall you put up. Before you knew it Cassian was laying next to you, pulling you to his bare chest and wrapping a massive wing around you two.

Cassian’s large, calloused hand comes to rest on your stomach under your shirt. His thumb rubs small circles on your skin, pressing small kisses against your hair.

“I’ve got you sweet pea, I’m right here.” Cassian whispers as a small sob shakes your body. You turn in his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

The two of you stayed in bed all day, safe and sound in Cassian’s embrace. Waking up from a peaceful nap you find Cassian’s soft hazel eyes watching you. His fingers tracing the lines of your face.

“Hey,” he smiles at you.

“Hey.” You whisper, trying to smile back at him.

Your eyes wander to the window, noticing the setting sun casting brilliant shades of pink and orange across Velaris. Your stomach jolts and that heaviness settles in your throat again, the all too familiar feeling of guilt. Guilt for wasting your day moping in bed. Guilt for dragging Cassian into bed with you.

He knew where your mind was going and he wouldn’t let you spiral like that. Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger he forces you to look at him again. “Don’t do that, y/n. You didn’t make me do this. You are having a hard time and need help from your mates, the people who are supposed to take care of you. I stayed with you because I wanted to because you needed me.” You nod your head in understanding.

Silent tears fall down your cheeks, no longer able to hold in your feelings at Cassian’s sweet words. He pulls you to his chest again running his fingers through your hair. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks softly.

You nod again, swallowing that ever present lump in your throat. So you tell him everything. All your worries and fears. All your anxieties crowding your brain. And you felt so good after, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder and your brain wasn’t weighing down your skull.

Cassian listened without interrupting you. He helped you and kissed you, whispering reassuring words when talking got too much. When you finished Cassian looked deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry you’ve had all these thoughts weighing you down, sweet pea. We are here for you. Don’t ever worry about being a burden because you are not, understand. You could never in a million years be a burden.”

Cassian always knew how to render you speechless. Fresh tears sprung from your eyes as you nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The next time you woke up the sun was rising over Velaris, your mates holding you between them. Cassian and Rhys were still fast asleep but you felt that third pair of eyes watching you. Flipping over, you find Azriel’s bright hazel eyes staring at you softly. He rests a hand on your face, running his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

“Good morning, princess.” Azriel murmurs

“Good morning,” you whisper back.

Azriel rests his forehead against yours, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. You break the comfortable silence, “Are you mad at me? About yesterday.”

“No, y/n. I’m not mad at you. You knew what you needed and you told me.” You snuggle closer to him, finally feeling calm. Az presses a kiss to your head, whispering, “Let’s rest for a little while longer.” You hum in agreement, sleep making your eyelids heavy again.

[ohdeerfully]

Spoilers ahead for the final episode!

Imagine reader being a healer for others but is cursed to not being able to heal themselves.

Like during the final battle, their skills are heavily relied on while they also fight along side them. Afterwards they rush to find their lover Alastor to heal the wound on his abdomen. Poor thing was so worried about healing him that they forgot about patching up themselves.

hello everybody im alive........... hello hold your applause /j

i got two very similar requests so i combined them into one! hope thats alright with the two anons! hugs and kisses

Stitches

alastor x reader (fluff) TW: nothing serious, just some briefly graphic(ish) descriptions of violence/gore, reader referred to as female but doesnt influence plot

join my discord!

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It was supposed to be “no big deal” for him; that’s what he had promised you. You worried, of course, but knew better than to pester and beg for him to change his mind. Plus… of all demons to hold back Adam, Alastor seemed like the most capable. You had to trust him. He promised.

You were in the midst of slaying an Exterminator of your own, cutting it down with a sword lined in angelic steel, but you couldn’t help that your train of thought kept returning to the Radio Demon, who was currently on the roof of the Hotel maintaining a forcefield that prevented more angels from joining the battle.

You allowed your eyes to glimpse up towards said roof even though you knew it’d be impossible to see him from your position on the ground. You had looked just in time, however, to see the shield that surrounded the battleground begin to dissolve, an opening blooming around the figure of Adam. 

A sickly cold feeling of dread churned down your spine and into your stomach, but you forced yourself to stay focused. Alastor would be fine, surely. It’s not like he said it was an invincible shield. You had other things to worry about, anyway, when you realized a wasp-like swarm of Exterminators had made their way in from the dissolving forcefield, their glittering white wings and shining angelic weapons molding together in a blur.

You fought along a small group of demons from Cannibal Town, providing aid and healing when possible. It seemed to go on for hours; stab an angel, tear one away from a companion, heal, stab, save, heal… it somehow began to feel monotonous and repetitive. Your whole body stung, littered with wounds ranging in extremity, but you couldn’t stop. Not if you were going to win this thing.

That monotony was broken when the chaos halted for a brief moment—not even a second. You had seen Charlie looking up in… fear? Shock? So, you looked, and your breath hitched. It took you a moment to process.

Why was Adam flying above, looming, grinning, analyzing… Why, when Alastor was supposed to be keeping him occupied? The immediate answer that came to mind brought back that sickening feeling from earlier, but increased a hundredfold. It seemed that Charlie also had a similar idea.

You couldn’t ignore the feeling this time and, against your better judgment, took off towards the crumbling Hotel, abandoning your position as healer. They could wait, honestly. The pounding in your ears and anxiety in your body clouded the sensation of angelic spears grazing past you, filling your already burdened body with more gashes.

You were halted by a powerful beat of wings, wind pushing you backwards onto your back. You scrambled into a sitting position, leaning on your arms. All of the aching, stinging pain from the night seemed to rush in all at once because of the interruption, and you could barely keep your eyes steady on the man in front of you.

The first man, at that—standing all too high-and-mighty above you, a twisted grin curling up his mask. 

“Hey, bitch,” He said almost casually, grabbing you by the hair and lifting you up to be eye level with him. You stifled a pained cry at the sensation, though your eyes filled with tears, betraying both your fear and pain. You hated yourself for looking so weak in front of Adam, but you were almost too exhausted to mask it.

“The fuck did you do to Alastor?” You talked through a mouthful of blood. You spat some out in his face, to which the grip on your head tightened but he seemed otherwise unbothered. You did see a glint of madness in his eyes, though.

“So you’re that fine babe of his?” Adam mocked, looking up and down tastelessly. You didn’t expect much more from the ‘dickmaster’ but you couldn’t help but feel disgusted. “Satan’s daughter told me all about you when she was trying to tell me you gross fucks could be redeemed.”

He started rambling out a multitude of insults and curses. It seemed fitting, you thought, that the stuck-up first man would be too full of himself to keep his guard up and just start going off on a tangent about how cool and awesome he is versus how gross and weak your kind is.

“I mean, the fuck? You all sucked ass at being alive, so why the shit would we let you up into heaven? And, quite frankly, too fucking ugly to live up th—” He choked on the last few words he had, his eyes widening in shock and pain. He dropped you to the ground.

During his rant you had managed to use your heel to kick up a stray spear from beneath you. His tirade had given you enough time to balance the weapon between your feet, aim, and jam it forward into his stomach. The robe he wore darkened, glistening gold seeping into the fabric and from the hole you punctured into him.

“You–” He spat, hovering his shaking hands around the impaled spear. He gingerly pressed a hand against the wound, lifting his bloody palm to his face to look at the mess. He looked up, down, up again, and took a quivering step towards you. There were a million expressions in his eyes all at once; rage, fear, pain, disgust… 

“You fucking bitch,” He took another step, reached a hand out towards you. “You can’t kill me! Nobody can kill Adam! You’re just a worthless, sick, good-for-nothing sinner that couldn’t—fuck!” He stumbled and fell forward, and you jerked away as his fist nearly closed around the hem of your shirt. As much as you hated the guy and wanted him dead, you still cringed at the sight of him falling onto the spear and impaling it completely through his body.

You heard a distant cry of his name, but you didn’t hesitate to see who it was. You took off into the hotel, albeit slowed by a painful limp, and made your way up the stairs towards the radio tower.

There was an ominous feeling in the air as you ascended the ladder into the nearly demolished tower, slowly opening the hatch into the room. An intense, static-y feeling smothered your senses, hair raising and skin prickling at the sensation. You ignored the uncomfortable feeling and peered around the dark room. 

Claw marks and a trail of blood caught your attention, leading your eyes towards a corner where the demon you wanted to see most sat against. He had been wordlessly watching you with glowing red eyes since you entered.

“Al,” You said almost breathlessly as you rushed forward, ignoring the way your leg shot pain throughout your body in protest. You fell gracelessly to your knees in front of him.

“I don’t want you here,” He said rather plainly, a hiss in his voice as he spoke through his teeth and a grimace of a smile. You ignored the comment, eyes traveling over his body before settling on his palm, which was pressed against his abdomen. There was a still-growing patch of dark blood seeping through his shirt and between his fingers.

You reached your hand out towards him, flinched to a halt for a moment when his claws tightened around the fabric of his shirt, but continued. He made no move otherwise to stop you, but you could feel the tension in the air growing as the static ambience got louder.

“I can take care of myself,” He said, his other hand suddenly snatching your wrist. His grin widened, but his eyes narrowed. You frowned at him.

“Yeah, but it’d be a lot easier for me to just fix you now,” You retorted, trying to jerk your hand away from his grip. He didn’t yield. “If you stop being so damn stubborn.”

“I’ve dealt with much worse, my dear,” He continued to convince you to leave him alone, his voice smooth with that manipulatively suave voice he put on sometimes. Unluckily for him, though, you were just as stubborn as him.

“But I’m here this time to help you,” You finally managed to free your wrist from him, your sharp expression unwavering from his own, which seemed equally aggravated. Maybe he was too weak to actually stop you, or maybe he actually did want your help and just wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t stop you from lifting his bloodied hand from his wound.

You pursed your lips at the grizzly sight, but said nothing. You ignored the stinging smell of blood that flooded your nose. You hovered your hands over the wound, channeling the energy in your body that granted you the ability to rapidly heal others. A faint light flowed from your palm and into the gash across Alastor’s torso, forming glowing stitches that weaved throughout the damaged skin.

Periodically glancing up at his face as you worked, you watched for any sign that told you to stop, but it never came. He stayed silent the whole time, which was… rare, from him. You would never admit this out loud, but Alastor seemed almost… pitiful, in this silent, weakened state. The Radio Demon himself, reduced to a bloodied, passive husk of himself.

After healing so many demons during the battle outside, you had spent so much energy. You were already so weak and exhausted, but you pushed yourself to force just a bit more—

“There,” With a weak sigh, you sat back, admiring your own handiwork. Even though it was magic, it did take some mental ability to know how to use your power. “Was that so hard?” You chided him jokingly.

He gingerly drug a clawed finger down the stitches, analyzing it for himself. 

“I have to admit,” He began, looking up at you. “It would have been nice to have you in my early years as— dear?”

You barely heard what he was saying as all of your senses seemed to get foggy all at once. Your vision blurred and speckled, you ears felt muffled, and you swayed with lightheadedness. You pressed a hand to your face, trying to steady your breath.

“I’m good,” Your voice came out in a quiver. “I think I just—”

You don’t necessarily even remember fainting, but reason that you must have as you stared at the ceiling above you. You woke up ten minutes ago, and spent the time piecing together everything that happened. How much time has passed since then? A couple hours? Days? It was hard to say. Though, you thought as you looked around. The hotel looks… damn good all things considered. 

The door creaked open and your ears perked at the sound of a familiar voice humming some tune that you couldn’t recognize. Considering the atmosphere wasn’t tense, you actually welcomed the prickling, static-like sensation that Alastor’s presence brought. 

“Ah, the sleeping beauty awakes!” He announced pleasantly, setting a plate rattling with two neat little glasses of warm liquid on the bedside table. You eyed them and quirked your eyebrow.

“Seems you were ready for it,” You said, commenting on the fact that he brought two cups.

“Well, what kind of man would I be if I wasn’t au fait to my darling’s status?” He explained, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning over you. He would never admit that he brought up two cups every time he checked on you just in case. 

His overall demeanor seemed appropriately confident and indifferent, but his eyes held an uncharacteristic look of tenderness and worry as he looked over you, analyzing your condition. He sat at the edge of the bed, picking that plate up again and offering you a cup.

You sat up against the headboard and took it with a light smile, warming your hands on the smooth surface. You enjoyed the aroma of the tea, and you realized it was your favorite. How sweet.

The room was silent, save for the quiet sound of a radio that seemed to just… radiate from him… but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Now that you were sitting up, you took the chance to look down and over yourself. Bandages were wrapped tightly over your arms, chest, stomach, legs… basically everywhere. You were suddenly all too aware of the dull ache that afflicted your entire body.

When you looked up, you noticed Alastor had been looking at you rather intensely. His expression was weird and unreadable. You tightened your lips awkwardly at the strangely passionate look in his eyes, looking into random directions to try to ignore it. You tried to concentrate on taking another sip from the cup in your hand, bu, to your dismay, it was already empty. You sat it down on the plate.

“How’s my stitchwork holding up?” In an attempt to dissipate your own awkwardness, you reached towards his abdomen. He caught your hand gently, directing it away from himself. But he didn’t let go.

“No doctor in all of Hell could have done better,” He complimented. He still had a hint of that weird expression. “If only you could fix yourself up the same. Fortunately I have some experience from my time alive…” He trailed off.

You couldn’t contain yourself anymore, jumping forward and tightening your arms around his neck. The static in the air sharpened for a brief second, matching the tenseness in his body, but slowly returned to a normal frequency. After a few more seconds, you felt him slide his own arms around your waist, pressing you against himself.

“You scared the fuckin’ shit out of me,” You said, voice muffled by his coat. “I thought Adam killed you. I thought I was going to find your body buried under the rubble.”

“So you avenged me by killing Adam yourself? I appreciate it,” He remarked lightly, a slight chuckle rumbling from his chest. His voice was low, breath tickling your ear as he held you with a feather-light but somehow still firm grip. 

Alastor was quiet for another moment, and you realized the static in the air had completely dissipated. You also realized the pressure of his arms wrapped around you was getting increasingly tighter.

“You worried me as well,” He said finally. “You were out like a hibernating bear for days. You worried everyone.” You pulled your head out from the crook of his neck and met his gaze.

“Can’t a gal get her beauty rest?” You joked softly, bumping your shoulder against him playfully. He swayed for a moment at the contact, but the eye contact never broke. Wait, was he getting closer? 

Instinctually your eyes closed, and the briefest kiss was placed on your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. Before you could open your eyes, Alastor placed his hand on your head and pressed you back against his chest. He then began rubbing his hand gently on your back in a soothing motion.

Despite being in bed for apparently days, you still felt tired. You sank into him as his claws drug gentle shapes against your skin, careful to avoid bandaged spots. He hummed a quiet tune, and you noticed his microphone of a cane, which was laying against the bedside table, emitted an accompanying song.

“Maybe redemption isn’t all that,” You commented with a sigh, lazily picking at the hem of Alastor’s collar.

“Hmm?” He prompted you to continue.

“Is Hell really so bad if you’re with your favorite soul?” It felt corny to say, but you couldn't really find a better way to phrase it. Plus, you couldn't take this rare moment of tenderness for granted.

His hand paused for a moment, and he gently squeezed your arm in response. You felt him press another light kiss to the top of your head.

“I know, now,” He finally replied. “Just the feeling.”